Angel

This work is a product of the author's imagination, places, events and people are either fictitious or used fictitiously and any resemblance to real events, places, or people, living or dead is entirely coincidental. The author retains full copyright to the material, and sincerely hopes you like it!

Angel

Chapter 3

Claudius was halted in his approach, his sable brows rising in surprise-tinged amusement. What a strangely salted gift his father had bestowed upon him, he thought to himself as he regarded the Angle, staring into those violet eyes which were so potently charged with anger and...was it fear also?

"You will be killed if you set a hand against me." Claudius spoke calmly, he had naught to fear of a slave; no Roman did.

"I've naught to live for. I do not fear death." Brenn's words were courageous but his eyes betrayed his vulnerability as he stood there, his hands clenched but shaking with it.

"And yet you fear something." Claudius met the man's turbulent blue eyes and held them, his own velvet-black orbs boring into the new-twilight ones of the Angle, holding them captive, mesmerising him. It was only when Brenn felt Claudius's hand touch his cheek that he snapped back to reality, flinching away from the other man's touch.

Claudius stood back, regarding the Angle. He had made a grave move, truly, and one Claudius had never been faced with before. To make a mortal threat against one's master was a severe crime indeed and punishable by death. It was even likely that the rash slave would be made into an example, dying a horrible death to warn all other slaves against such behaviour. But Claudius knew it was fear that mainly motivated this fiery and headstrong angel, fear and desperation; he wondered how long the boy had been a slave, probably not even a year to be so poorly subjugated.

He could tame him, he need not kill the boy, such would be a waste of a fine gift from his father, but there were ways to subdue slaves; a week, a month most likely for this one or even two months in the Discipline Chamber would easily accomplish that. Indeed, ones got for the bed-chamber could be taught their place using various contraptions designed for just that purpose. One in particular - a four-legged, A-framed structure that looked a little like a horse, but was in fact a bench so they called it thus - would do adequately. His friends regularly used it for entertainment as well as discipline, but it was only for the latter purpose that Claudius would consider using it. He could strap this angel to that contraption and rape him, and then have several of the well-endowed slaves pound him to within inches of his tolerance. Then this proud, beautiful man could be returned to him, completely broken and eager to please, his will snapped under the duress of such humiliating and painful preparation. There was never a slave returned from such therapy who had a skeric of pride. Then his angel would lie pliant for him, open his arse for him, and quietly endure his love-making for him.

Claudius looked at the Angle, considering this. The young man remained where he was, his finely sculpted body rigid and prepared to fight, fear and anger warring in his glittering blue eyes, his chin raised in furious defiance. Yes, Claudius could break him easily, destroy his spirit, shatter his pride, and break those defiant blue eyes so they looked at him with bland obedience as did the rest of the slaves. And then Claudius could use him any which way he chose.

But what would it mean to do that to such a beautiful creature? It would be like taking an exquisite tapestry, rich with colour and emotion and plucking it to its rudimentary stitches, taking the heart out of the artwork and leaving only the bare structure behind. So many Romans did it on a regular basis and thinking naught as they did, but it was an abomination to ruin such beautiful creations, to destroy all spirit and will and leave behind only hollowed out husks of human beings such that they were barely considered to be even that.

Claudius finally let out an irritable sigh. "Ah, there are many willing to service my pleasure; I'll not force one who is not." He spoke in a bored voice, turning from the youth then swiped up a dagger concealed under a cloth on his dresser, and in a split second had the Angle pressed to attentiveness against the wall, the knife pricking into his throat. "But if you EVER think to threaten my life again, I will have your body dismembered while you still live and fed before your eyes to the dogs, do you understand?"

The Angle's blue eyes widened and he nodded gingerly, mindful of the knife pressed into his throat. Claudius withdrew the knife and sheathed it in annoyance.

"Do not force me to that again, Angle, I go lightly on you this time; but there are a myriad of awful deaths that could have been visited on you for merely thinking to threaten me." Claudius set down the knife a little away from him but closer to his reach than the Angle's: this would establish if the Angle was really intent on his life.

"Then why did you spare me from them?" Brenn asked, seeing the test for what it was and not taking the bait, much as he might want to.

To his surprise, Claudius flashed him a grin. "Because I knew you could not carry out your boyish threats."

"How?" Brenn asked incredulously, his fear the only thing that prevented ire from rising to hear the Roman, who was not even two years his senior, labeling his boldest actions as boyish.

"Quite aside from the fact that you had not thought so far ahead as to obtain a weapon with which to assassinate me, you were completely frozen to the spot," Claudius answered easily as Brenn flushed to have the Roman undo his heroism and make it sound foolish even to his own ears. "And be aware that this room is never empty." With that Claudius drew back the curtain and Brenn's eyes widened to see a huge Nubian, the likes of whom put the well-made Kubra to shame. Claudius handed the dagger to the Nubian. "This is Noboko," Claudius told him casually. "He watches and listens always, wherever I am. I had only to click my fingers when I was with you and he would have snapped your neck in a trice, he is amazingly fast for his size."

Brenn's face had gone white, realising what his bravado could have cost him, even though not five minutes ago he had thought he was resigned to his fate.

Claudius dropped the curtain and walked back to the dressing area, then turned to Brenn, folding his arms across his chest. "Now, Brenn, since we have the subject of your ill-conceived bravery out of the way, is it too much to ask for you to act as my personal servant, though not in that capacity which you disdain?"

Brenn flushed, the Roman did have the sharpest tongue, if he was not careful, he would be hard-pressed not to punch that smirking mouth, but he nodded. "Sorry," he muttered, coming forward.

Claudius had to register some level of surprise at the surliness of the slave after he had been so lenient with him and Brenn himself knew that he should be pleased his new master was so reasonable but be damned he was still an enemy Roman and a smug aristocratic one at that, so it would never be willing service he would extract from him.

Brenn lay at the foot of the bed, pulling threads out of the weave-work of his pallet, his brow furrowed as he yanked another thread out, enjoying hearing the ripping sound as it tore free from its neighbours. How by the gods would he serve that wanton Roman? Very well, he did not expect intimate servitude from him, Brenn thought to himself, yanking out the stuffing of his pallet and sprinkling it across the marbled floor, but he still expected a slave, and be damned, a slave Brenn was not.

Claudius was wrong in his assumption, Brenn had only been enslaved for six months, and a household slave for half of that time. Those three months in Vellius's household, of course, he had spent in a position of limbo, as an observer, and so he had been afforded the unique experience of being an idle slave. As Vellius had truthfully informed his patron, Brenn was untouched and unmarked and so he had never been subjugated, nor had he ever had to perform any service of any kind.

Though Brenn may have done nothing during that three-month period, he had learned a lot; his time in Vellius's house was an eye-opener of the most shocking kind. Human life, or more specifically the lives of slaves, meant little to Romans; slaves were a disposable commodity to be used for enjoyment and entertainment, at least among the wealthier houses.

These Romans, spurred by boredom or cruelty, would torment their slaves in the most despicable ways, pushing them to the limit of what they could endure, and then beyond, to see what would happen. What amazed Brenn the most was that Romans did not see their behaviour as cruel; it was that they placed so little value on the welfare of slaves that, if it was necessary to torment this one or that to alleviate their ennui, they would do so and think little of it. Of course there was some consternation if they went too far and the slave was maimed or died, but even then the tragedy was counted in coins.

Brenn was patently aware of what lay in the bed behind him, he had developed sick fear and hatred of Romans from what he had witnessed during those three months and he could not sleep knowing there was one at his back. He thought back to when he had threatened the Roman lordling, part of him had hoped the man would simply kill him and spare him from becoming one of those miserable wretches he had seen used at parties now that he was no longer off-limits, now that he had been made a gift to the aristocratic young son of a Senator, to be used for his pleasure and entertainment.

And yet...why had Claudius not forced him to his will as he had seen so many other Romans do? The lordling was right, Brenn had been utterly frozen to the spot when he had threatened the man, knowing that death was a distinct possibility, only the manner of it had terrified him at that stage. But the young man had not ordered his death or any kind of punishment at all, but why, Brenn wondered, what was he playing at? Was it hope, did he want Brenn to hope and believe that Claudius would not punish him, would not force him to his will, and only when he believed would Claudius cruelly rip that dream from him?

Claudius awoke to see Phinua laying down a steaming ewer of water. The boy leaned over to retrieve the drying cloth from the low couch and Claudius sucked in his breath, the boy's tunic was so short that there was nothing left to the imagination as he bent down. He jumped out of the bed and Phinua rose hastily, turning in surprise.

"Phinua, what are you wearing?" Claudius demanded.

"Do you like it Master?" Phinua looked up at him hopefully with large dark eyes.

Claudius reached for him, drawing the boy to him and slapping his bare arse that was largely uncovered by the indecent tunic which the child wore with no undergarment. "I've told you not to mess with things that you are too young to understand, now go cover yourself or I will take a rod to your arse but not in the way you think you want."

Phinua looked at him longingly then bowed before bounding out the door. Claudius turned and started when he saw striking blue eyes watching him closely from the foot of his bed.

"Why did you not take what the boy has offered to you twice now?" Brenn asked curiously.

"Twice?" Claudius laughed. "That boy has offered his arse, his mouth, his cock to me too many times to count." He shrugged out of his sleeping garment. "But he is too young to know what he wants. It is highly likely that he only persists because I refuse him. After all, I remember when I was a young boy not too long ago; it is always what is forbidden that is the most tempting."

The blonde man listened to him avidly, blinking his wide blue eyes but making no response.

"Brenn, are you going to get up and help me bathe?" Claudius asked him impatiently.

Suddenly the curious look in the youth's eyes was replaced by a scowl, which Claudius stifled his mirth to see, had he thought Brenn had been slave less than a year? More like less than a month. The tall blonde man stood after a moment, though he appeared to be at war with himself as he did so and came around to where Claudius was standing, a wary look in his new-twilight eyes.

"How do you know my name?" At his former home, he had been called nothing but 'boy'. It was somewhat of a surprise to hear his own name, Brenn thought as he lifted the wash-cloth, taking his time soaking it in the warmed water, and Claudius smiled to see this, he seemed to be delaying the inevitable.

"It is not a secret, my father gave me your name when he gave me you, I could have called you anything but I decided to let you keep your own name since I quite like it," Claudius said, his amusement piqued when he saw how Brenn stiffened to hear himself being discussed as a possession whose very identity depended on the benevolence of his master. "And that rag is well and truly doused, Brenn, you're supposed to be washing me, not it," he added, chuckling.

Brenn shut his eyes as he stood with his back to the Roman, trying to school the fury from his expression before he turned to face him.

Claudius couldn't resist. "You can turn around Brenn, no need to try to hide your scowl, you never manage to anyway."

"Do you get punched a lot?" Brenn asked in irritation as he turned, then sucked in his breath almost choking on it when he realised he had carelessly threatened his master with physical harm. Gods, why, WHY couldn't he keep his mouth shut?

To his complete surprise Claudius burst out laughing and laughed even harder when he saw Brenn's shocked expression as his blue eyes met the merry dark ones of his master.

"Frequently." Claudius finally managed to calm himself enough to answer. "But not by slaves."

Brenn slapped the wash-cloth across his master's chest and sponged the liquid down the back of his neck; it was faintly perfumed with oils. Brenn had noted in the house of his former master the way Romans enjoyed to smell sweet even as they played their putrid games.

"The boy, Phinua, you turn him away from you because he desires you?" Brenn returned to the subject of the capricious Judean after a moment. "And if he did not desire you, then would you take him." It was no question, merely a summation drawn from what Brenn had seen of Roman nature so far.

Claudius turned, looking at him sharply. "I turn the boy from me because he is just that, a boy. I do not believe in the rape of children, though few share my view."

"If the boy offers it...it is not rape is it?" Brenn asked curiously.

"If you take a child, boy or girl, then you rape them, because they are too young to know what they want; therefore they cannot agree or disagree to it," Claudius replied matter-of-factly.

Brenn looked at him in confusion, the wash-cloth stilled in his hand as he considered this. Claudius took his hand and moved it and the wash-cloth across his chest. "Before I catch cold, Brenn," his master reminded him and Brenn was shaken from his thoughts, once again his hackles were raised by the Roman's acerbic manner and he scowled as he rubbed the cloth across the man's chest and around the back of his neck.

Claudius himself was a little surprised, not at his slave's behaviour, but at the jolt he had felt when he touched Brenn's hand. It was strange; a slave was property and ought not elicit such a sensation. Such excitement was undue, he chastised himself and after shaking away the sensation, he dragged his mind back to their conversation.

"You will find that I disagree with much of Rome over many things," Claudius told Brenn, ignoring the ill-grace with which his slave tended him. "But I am a scholar so it is my job to question society and be its conscience."

Brenn did not understand much of what Claudius had said, there not being any kind of formal education in Germania, but he had heard of scholars and apparently all they did was sit on their backsides and pontificate, which meant he had been right in his original summation, Claudius was yet another useless Roman aristocrat. For some reason he needed that, he clung to the belief that Claudius was, if not so amoral, then at least as indolent as all Romans; otherwise it would be too easy to trust the man, too easy to believe he was as fun and playful as he appeared.

Brenn dried him off and lifted his soft undergarments, fingering the fine weave of the fabric before he lifted them up to slip over his master's head. Claudius stepped back as Brenn knelt to pull the garment down, keeping his eyes straight ahead while the blonde boy was on his knees before him lest his arousal be betrayed by his body. It would be difficult to maintain the facade of nonchalance around the younger man did he spoil it with his desire so soon. He very well knew that Brenn quite despised him at the moment, it was one reason why baiting the youth was so entertaining, watching how those gorgeous twilight-blue eyes flashed with anger when he was goaded, the golden cheeks flushing with ire and those dark brows furrowing in one of his frequent scowls.

Brenn had ceased frowning at the moment, however, as he carried a folded length of finely woven fabric towards Claudius who, though he had been wearing a toga for a few years, wore one that was not too ostentatious to denote his younger age, it did not comprise too much material or billow about him like those of some of the older aristocrats. He had to show Brenn how to wrap it appropriately though, the boy not having served any others in this capacity.

"What services did you perform before you were given to my father, Brenn?" Claudius asked once he was fully dressed and Brenn had lifted the towel on which he had been bathed for the morning and handed it to the slave-girl who would collect the dirty linen.

"I...none," Brenn admitted. "I was told near the beginning that I was to be a gift for another." How much he disdained the idea that he was a gift, Claudius noted. "And so I was not put to work, but I was bathed regularly and exercised daily and...kept away from the Roman activities."

Claudius laughed heartily. "'the Roman activities'" he repeated in amusement. "I'm guessing by that you mean sex, yes? I find it amusing that you find debauchery and Rome synonymous."

Brenn looked at him in confusion.

"Ah, many words you will pick up in time," Claudius replied easily. "Especially if you are around me all day." He could see that Brenn spoke fluent Latin, but likely not in any scholarly fashion.

After he had finished his morning activities and was dressed and prepared for the day, Claudius directed Brenn through the house to his study where he preferred to conduct business, and he needed to be business-like at this moment and not be distracted by the sight of the tall golden youth striding about his bed-chamber. Once inside the cluttered room, he indicated for Brenn to sit and reluctantly the boy lowered himself to one of the low seats while Claudius moved behind his desk, facing the younger man.

Last night he had decided on what would be Brenn's function, and it tickled him even now to think of it. He would have the barbarian as a personal servant. It was unheard of to have one so untrained perform such a function and would be a source of much amusement to his friends. They would expect something like this only from their most eccentric friend. Brenn was so fresh from capture, so poorly subjugated, that he could only imagine they would be taking bets on how soon Claudius would crack. It was his intention to prove them all wrong, and tolerate Brenn far longer than they ever could; though now as he looked upon Brenn, and despite how much he enjoyed doing so, he imagined it would be some challenge to make it past even a week.

It was a good thing, therefore, that his other challenge lay in getting the golden youth willingly into his bed. For that, he would endure a year of the Angle's surly service.

"Now, Brenn." Claudius sucked in his breath. "I must inform you of your roles and responsibilities in my family's household."

Brenn watched him suspiciously.

"You have had experience in your station so hopefully you are aware of what is expected of you by way of conduct: when you are in the presence of Romans, you must lower your eyes and show every sign of respect, if you do not, you will be punished, a slap, a caning, a beating, depending. However, when you are in my company, you are not required to lower your eyes; in fact I will think you are keeping secrets from me if you do."

Brenn smiled despite himself at this and Claudius almost lost his train of thought to see the beguiling grin, feeling his own lips turning up in response, but he shook himself regaining where his thoughts had trailed off.

"Now, in your dealings with Romans, you must accept their instruction in every respect, so long as it does not conflict with your duty to this family. Whether or not you listen to other slaves shall be at your discretion." This was nothing new to Brenn, and as much as he had picked up in the household in which he had spent his first three months in Rome, but it still galled him to hear it specified thusly.

Claudius noted the ill-grace with which Brenn received his instructions, but he decided not to press the matter, the boy had not argued the point after all, much as he had looked like he wanted to. It was actually a good sign, he reasoned, that though Brenn was feeling resentment, he was keeping a lid on it; it was the first step to becoming servile. Gods, did he want that? Did he want Brenn to be SERVILE? Gods no, he liked Brenn's feisty spirit and imagined it might make him quite a delicious lover. No, preserving Brenn's fiery nature was not a bad thing, Claudius decided then and there, and should be highest on his list of objectives with respect to the youth, right after seducing him. He looked down at where he had been doodling with his quill, frowning at the messy trail of ink that added to the numerous stains on his desk-top. He raised his eyes from the mottled wood, setting his quill aside, recalling to continue.

"Thirdly," he spoke as though he had not just spent the last few moments imagining how fantastic Brenn would be in the bed-chamber after he had effected his seduction, "your role in this household is that of my personal servant which means you are to assist me in bathing, dressing, shaving and applying oils, serving me at meals, being my messenger and running any errands I require. That said, I want an assistant, not a shadow, so it is likely that you may have large periods in which you are left alone, what you do during them will be most likely specified by my aunt, so I will introduce you to her later." Brenn was nodding, though Claudius wondered how much of it he was taking in, it was a lot to come to grips with after having been almost completely idle for three months. Claudius began the next section with a little embarrassment. "Lastly, you were given to me for my pleasure and so...it is probably best that you tell the other servants that we are lovers."

"But..." Brenn began to argue, his cheeks flushed.

"Quiet Brenn!" Claudius spoke sternly, irritated that the boy was arguing a point that was for his own protection: after all if Brenn did get separated from his master during a fete or somewhat, there was little doubt he would quickly catch another's eye and be commandeered for entertainment, but if the servants thought he was the master's favourite, it was more likely that Brenn would be spared from any such depravities. "If you do not accede to this, I will have to fuck you for real, so you may as well pretend."

Brenn's cheeks had stained red and he fairly exuded vexation, but finally he lowered his head, turning it to the side in distaste before nodding in embarrassment.

Claudius stood, coming around the desk and walking to the door, gesturing that Brenn should follow. He paused at the doorway, however, looking down at the golden-haired youth curiously.

"Verily Brenn, you stayed nigh three months at the house of Donatianus, there should be little which can still bring you to a blush."

Brenn met Claudius's aunt that morning, and was left in her care which he found to be rather easy going. He could not help but get the feeling that she and her nephew were engaged in some private joke, though, for most of the morning she spent chuckling after she had been apprised of the nature of Brenn's service to his master.

After hearing the word 'absurd' pass from the woman's lips several times in an amused murmur, Brenn began to put things together, and his eyes lit with hope. "Mistress, if you please, may I ask a question?" Brenn finally got up the courage to ask Aurora when he had sat long enough by the window, where she had placed him until she could think of some purpose he could adequately serve. "Is there something amiss about my serving my master?"

"Amiss?" Aurora looked up from her stitching. "Oh no, not with my nephew; it is in fact quite unsurprising."

"Shall he reassign me?" Brenn asked after a moment of failing to digest the woman's response.

"I think the answer to that very much depends on yourself, child," Aurora answered, intrigued that the slave continued to talk to her, but not so surprised. Claudius had probably talked his ear off so that he thought it was the norm to make constant conversation with the master or mistress he was attending. For herself, Aurora minded not, after all he had a pleasant enough voice and, oh, what a dream he was to look at. For certain if Claudius grew tired of him, she'd have him hold her fan and so forth so she could gaze on his golden beauty. Not that she would touch, she never did touch the slaves, but looking she was quite content to do. Thinking quietly on her stitching for a few moments, a thought suddenly occurred to her. "Do you want my nephew to reassign you?" Aurora asked, fixing Brenn with her sharp blue eyes.

"No." The word jumped out of Brenn's mouth and he stirred more mirth in his master's aunt at his agape look after he had made the surprising admission. "I mean, I don't know."

Aurora laughed aloud this time. "He grows on you, does my nephew," she commented.

Fortunately for Brenn, he was spared further mirth by the entry of a servant to carry some message to her mistress.

"Oh, no," Aurora replied. "The Angle can deliver it."

So Brenn was set to water-bearing for the rest of the day, taking water out to those working on some patch of the wall that went around the grounds of the villa. It would have been a mainly uneventful task had he not been accosted on one of his trips by three men intent on sampling the wares available from Aurius household. Pride meant Brenn was unable to lay claim to being personal servant to his master which, when he thought about it, would probably have spared him from the unwanted advances. Instead he had behaved most foolishly in trying to defend himself. Had there been one, or even two attackers, he might have been successful, but the third one got the better of him and, instead, he had only narrowly escaped the somewhat brutal lesson as to the place he now occupied in their society by the arrival of Noboko. The Nubian had, outside Brenn's knowledge, been charged with keeping an eye on him by their master.

Claudius arrived late in the evening, travel worn and weary so his first stop was the bath and it was there Noboko made his report.

"He fights well though, three men and he tries to fight them all," Noboko informed him after telling of Brenn's close encounter.

Claudius was frowning by the time Noboko had finished his observations. Damned freedmen, too often they knew not their place in society, thinking that their newly granted freedom enabled them to abuse any and every one below them, as they had once been abused. Though he had appointed Noboko to be minder to Brenn, and though the Nubian had succeeded in minding him, after a close call on only his second day there, he guessed he would have to have the youth as his shadow which was not as he had initially intended.

Once his bath was finished he returned to his chamber in a robe, his skin smelling sweet with perfumes designed to aid falling into slumber. He sat down on his bed, tired already but pushing away the sleep that clouded his mind, staring at the blue-eyed boy who sat on his pallet, picking at the frayed ends of its seams.

"Is there something that you want to say to me, Brenn?" Claudius asked, passing a hand over his face, betraying his exhaustion.

"No," Brenn answered, lying down on his pallet and pulling the covering over him.

"Are you absolutely sure about that?" Claudius gave him a warning.

"Yes," Brenn answered from beneath his covers.

Claudius sighed, getting out of his bed and walking around to the end of it, standing before Brenn's pallet with his hands on his hips. "Get up Brenn," he instructed softly.

Brenn threw back his covering and saw in the dim light of the two low-burning torches still illuminating the room that his master stood before him with eyes cold, hard and black. His own widened to see Claudius, who usually looked so merry, wearing an expression so dire. He sat up and Claudius gestured that he should stand, which he did after the slightest hesitation.

Claudius gripped the hem of his slave's tunic and Brenn stiffened. "Don't move, Brenn, do not resist this," Claudius warned and then pulled up the tunic. "Raise your arms," he instructed, "do not make me recruit assistance for this." At this further warning Brenn reluctantly raised his arms so that he was stripped of it entirely.

Brenn's cheeks flamed to be standing naked before his master at the man's behest and he looked longingly at the coverings on his pallet, wanting desperately to get under them but he could not until he was ordered to.

"I will not abide secrets between us, Brenn, thus do you lose your clothes until such time as I deem you require them once more," Claudius told him, his black eyes deeply serious. "Hopefully this will serve to remind you that you are to hide nothing from me."

Brenn said nothing and his eyes looked anywhere but at those of his master before he finally gave a tortured nod.

"Good," Claudius replied then turned from the youth, walking over to the dressing cabinet and placing the tunic there. "You may retire if you want," he said with his back to Brenn.

"I was ashamed," Brenn said, his voice almost inaudibly soft and sounding as tortured as he had looked to be stripped bare.

Claudius turned to him with a slight frown, now safe to look at Brenn since he had got under his bed-covering. "What?" he asked.

"I was ashamed, that's why I didn't tell you. It was humiliating, they wanted me for...and they would have had me if it hadn't been for your Nubian. I didn't tell you because it made me feel like less of a man." Brenn had no idea why he was confiding this to the Roman whom he hated and who had just demonstrated that more despicable aspect of his ownership by punishing him in this humiliating fashion.

"Don't be, Brenn, I understand why you might have been but you needn't be for you are one Angle, and a pretty one at that," Brenn flushed deeply at this, "highly as you might think of your fighting skill, you will likely be outmatched by several men intent on having you."

Claudius stepped away from the cabinet. For some reason, he was immensely pleased at this deeper level of honesty Brenn had unexpectedly demonstrated. Brenn looked up in surprise when he felt his tunic drop into his lap as Claudius walked past his pallet back to his bed. He turned to fix Claudius with a surprised look.

"I am pleased you were honest with me," Claudius said by way of explanation and then at Brenn's continued worried expression the Roman flashed a rueful smile. "Truth be told on my part: it would be as much torture for me to watch you strut around so gloriously naked as it would be for you, so unless you've changed your mind about bedding me, best we keep all that gorgeous body under wraps for now."

Brenn blushed furiously as he slipped on his tunic, his heart beating rapidly in his chest though he had no idea why, for he had just been given a reprieve from his punishment.

"So have you?" Claudius asked him from the bed.

"Have I what?" Brenn asked, fixing Claudius with a questioning gaze.

"Changed your mind about bedding me," Claudius said with an arched brow.

Brenn felt as though his face was on fire and he ducked his head quickly. "Nay," he said, his voice loaded with embarrassment.

Claudius flopped back on his pillows with a disappointed sound that was so overdone, Brenn had to chuckle in response to it and he lay down on his pallet, grinning. He was smiling, fancy that, and feeling merry after being in the man's company, merry so soon after almost receiving a humiliating punishment, merry even though he was a slave. It was a pity Claudius was his enemy, such a pity, because he could so easily get used to that man's merry company.

"What is that word you call me?" To Claudius's surprise, Brenn initiated the conversation during his morning walk.

"What? Angel? It means messenger." Claudius turned his amused smile on the blonde youth, at Brenn's continued frown he explained. "It comes from Judean theology, on which I am no expert but so far as I do know the Judeans believe that malakhim, or messengers, bring tidings from their God to His mortal subjects and that these messengers are uncommonly beautiful...kind of like you." Claudius hid his smile to see Brenn flush. "Perhaps I should call you Adonis instead, or maybe Apollo," he teased further, naming Brenn for the prettiest of the gods adopted in some form or other by the Romans.

"Perhaps you should call me Brenn," the youth gritted out, his cheeks flaming.

Claudius smiled, saying nothing as he looked at the path in front of him. As his slave, he could call Brenn what he liked, but he didn't care to remind the boy of this fact; he probably should, Gods, his household already looked askance at him for letting his slave take such liberties, but damned if he didn't enjoy Brenn's feistiness and find it pleasantly refreshing next to the bland obedience of most slaves.

"I was told that you fight very well." Claudius decided to change the subject, bringing up the previous day's events without ire.

"When I am in danger," Brenn answered, kicking a twig that was in his path.

"You have been taught to fight by someone, then?" Claudius pressed.

"My father taught me how to fight, with weapons and without," Brenn answered. "He was exceptionally talented at both."

"Indeed," Claudius mused, inhaling the crisp morning air. "And would you boast the same of yourself?"

"I am not near my father's skill, but I can hold my own." Brenn looked at him a challenging glint in his eyes. Claudius had to turn his gaze elsewhere.

Gods Brenn was a rare find, he thought to himself, looking up at the woody branches that jutted out of the sparsely leaved trees. He had so much fire, so much youthful spirit, when he wasn't hiding it behind surly resentment.

He turned back to Brenn, looking him up and down. "That sounds like a wager...care to test your mettle against mine?"

Brenn flashed him yet another suspicious look and Claudius sighed; he was getting mightily tired of being looked at like he was some depraved fiend ever ready to visit his perversions on someone.

"Rest assured there will be no recriminations if my slave gives me a black-eye," he told Brenn, then grimaced, "well, none that will accrue to you anyway."

Brenn grinned despite himself. He wanted to despise Claudius, especially at that careless reminder that he was the man's slave, but he had to laugh at the idea of Claudius being heckled for getting beat by a slave.

"But what would be the stakes?" Brenn asked. "For the wager."

Claudius thought for a second. "Bragging rights," he replied with an easy grin and once again Brenn had to smile, and once again he had to rue the fates which had made Claudius his master and an enemy Roman; were he not, Brenn might have been quite happy to call this man friend.

Claudius turned, facing him and stepping a couple of paces back, he threw off his cloak revealing his light tunic which he wore about the grounds for exercise purposes. Brenn loosened his stance, relaxing his muscles in preparation for the fight. Both men circled one-another, eyes locked, arms loose at their sides, hands balled into fists, Claudius flexed his fingers in and out.

"You going to throw a punch, Angle?" Claudius heckled him. "I know you've been wanting to from the start, and I've told you you've naught to fear from me, I won't hurt you...too badly."

Brenn retaliated, he was young after all, and the punch was thrown without too much conviction, Claudius caught it easily, stretching out the younger man's arm and shoving his forearm into the shoulder joint, pressing down relentlessly so as to drive the younger man to his knees. To his credit Brenn did not cry out with the pain, merely grunted as he was pushed into a kneeling position, he bided his time though, knowing that his opponent would have to release his shoulder to put him into a more secure hold and the moment he did...

Brenn reached up with both arms, his right now freed from the shoulder-lock and grabbed two fistfuls of his master's tunic, swinging him over his head as he rose to his feet. Claudius lay in the leaves, winded and gasping for air and Brenn took that opportunity to jump on his downed opponent, shoving his palms into Claudius's shoulders and pressing down, his knees pressing into the other man's thighs. Of course this hold did not keep his opponent down and as soon as Claudius kicked out Brenn jumped off and lay on the ground, pretending to be winded, Claudius rolled over, reaching out to pin the younger man but Brenn was waiting for him. As Claudius came on top of him Brenn used the man's momentum to swing him completely over the other side of him, pinning him more securely this time with a forearm to his throat, trapping the smaller man's body under his.

Claudius looked up at his slave, completely pinned under the golden man's panting body, Brenn's hard, heavy form laying entirely across his own body, weighing him down; were it not for the heavy forearm in his throat which was rapidly cutting off his air supply he knew his body would be reacting to their proximity in a way which would be most inconvenient considering the fact that he had told his angel that he did not want him.

Brenn looked down at the man he had trapped, his master and his Roman oppressor. The man was breathing deeply, the breath sounding strained in his throat from the pressure of his forearm, Brenn could feel it on his face, hot in the crisp chill of the morning, he could feel the hard length of the man's body pinned under him, laid out at his disposal given he had the upper hand. Tentatively he lifted his forearm, looking down at Claudius, noting his dark hair and eyes, his olive skin that glistened from the exertion, the beads of sweat shining on his upper lip. Brenn remained there, fascinated with those lips; they looked firm, full, who had they kissed? He wondered. Romans kissed men and women both, Brenn wondered how many of each Claudius had pressed his firm, full lips against.

Gods! What was wrong with him? Brenn jumped off the pinned man suddenly, sitting back in the dirt, his eyes wide as his breath came heavily, but it was not all due to exertion, he knew. He watched Claudius sit up, watched his master sit up, his master with his strong, lithe body that had almost bested him in their match though Brenn had the advantage of height and weight.

Claudius looked over at the wide-eyed youth; his breathing was also heavy though he was able to admit to himself that it was with wanting. The golden boy had lain right across him and he had felt every inch of the youth's hard body on his, had felt the bulge of his loins pressing against own, stirring there, indeed he had felt it and he had enjoyed it.

"What? Are you surprised, Angel?" Claudius teased the man-boy whose wide new-twilight eyes blinked rapidly in his embarrassment. "Maybe it is not just you who have earned bragging rights today then, eh?"

Brenn scowled. "I felt nothing," he lied.

Claudius moved to a sitting position, resting his elbows on his bent knees and regarding the Angle. "Yes you did." His voice was casual but his eyes were anything but as they penetrated those of his slave.

Brenn was captivated, this was not the first time that his master's eyes had done that to him and it was with difficulty that he wrenched his own gaze away.

"Doesn't mean I want you." He spoke churlishly, mussing the dirt beside him and staring down at it.

"You know, Brenn, if I did want you, there is naught you can do to stop me." Brenn looked up suddenly at the voice which was so much closer than he expected, he saw that Claudius crouched before him, his dark eyes again capturing the deep-blue ones of his slave, holding them thusly.

Brenn shook his head to free himself of the other man's penetrating gaze. "You didn't win the match," he reminded Claudius, looking at him suddenly afraid.

Claudius lifted his hand, trailing the knuckles down the smooth creamy-gold skin of the other man. Brenn stayed still, so still, he almost shook with the rigid way he held himself then, as if belatedly realising he should, his head turned, escaping the touch of the other man.

Claudius chuckled. "Ah, Brenn, did I want you that way I would have taken you that first day. But never fear, I will employ no contraption to pry your legs apart, I plan to do that all on my own."

With that he patted the youth's face as he would a wayward child. Brenn looked at him in complete shock. "You said you would not force me to do what others would do for you willingly."

Claudius smiled, standing over the still seated blonde man, his hands on his hips. "I will not FORCE you, Brenn, but that does not mean I will not seduce you."

Brenn told himself he was shocked, disgusted that the other man had been so forward with him, had advanced on him like many a lecherous Roman he had seen during his three months of waiting. And yet...why was he not rightly outraged? Why was his first thought not of punching the lascivious man? Why did he stare at him overlong for the rest of that day? During his bath Brenn had noticed for the first time things he never had before, the smooth curve of the other man's shoulders, the way his russet hair curled at the base of his neck in dark, damp tendrils in the limpid steam, the way when he closed his eyes and leaned back with a sound of enjoyment it had made Brenn think of...if that was the sound that the man made when he was making love.

He shook himself angrily, what was wrong with him? He wasn't a maid, why was he thinking about this man in THAT way? Ahh, then he recalled. He wasn't a maid, but when had he had one? Gods THAT was what was wrong with him! He had not had a woman in his life. He had never thought about it much before now for there was the ever-present threat of invaders in his village and what with fortifications, that had later failed, and just general eking out an existence, there was little time for any serious pursuit of sex, but now...all he did was lay around fetching and carrying a few things here and there, but basically his life was one step away from the complete physical and mental atrophy of the Romans, and that was the problem, he was downright bored. Well, that could be remedied. There were physical tasks to be performed about the grounds of the villa that he could do during the days when Claudius was mainly absent; he could chop wood and such to keep himself busy and his mind from thinking about that Roman in ways that were just not appropriate. He would speak to the mistress of the house on the morrow; see if some hard labour would not take down the hardness that pressed against his thigh right now.

"Brenn! Brenn!" Brenn stirred at the sound of his name, and then came awake at the feeling of a hand yanking on his shoulder. He lashed out in his early morning befuddlement, thinking he was under attack, and felt something small go flying off him. Sitting up and rubbing at his blonde locks viciously he belatedly noticed the Judean Phinua scrambling to his feet angrily and rubbing a bruised elbow.

"What ails you?" Brenn asked the boy, watching the way he favoured that elbow.

"You this morning." Phinua's voice was full of boyish indignation. "See if I wake you again. I should have just left you to sleep through the whole morn, and Master Claudius's preparations for it, and let your arse suffer his wrath for it." There was a hint of jealousy tainting these last words and Brenn got the feeling that Phinua wished very much it would be his arse on the line for his master's displeasure.

"Was it you I hit?" Brenn remembered to ask.

"Aye, and a right nasty fist you have." The boy lifted his arm to examine every inch of it for bruising, such a childish act that Brenn laughed to see it. Now he understood why Claudius did not want to bring the boy into the world of adulthood, into the world of adult knowledge and adult acts: there was yet innocence about Phinua which there was merit in preserving.

Then he remembered Phinua's words and debated if he should scramble to his feet and run to do the Roman's bidding as Phinua seemed to think he should, or perhaps he should lie in and see what Claudius would do? Brenn knew enough about the life of slaves to know that slaves sleeping longer than their masters was unheard-of, unless of course the slave was a most favoured pleasure-item, which Brenn was not, though even then such treatment was rare.

He decided not to tempt the fates this morning, though Phinua might lust and salivate at the thought of his master's rod, Brenn did not. Most certainly he did not. And so why did he keep inviting it, he wondered? After all, he'd already received one punishment at the hands of his master, and found it to be swiftly delivered and humiliating in its effect, even though Claudius had relented because of that confession that had surprised them both, but he cared not to test the man's leniency any further. Gods, he had to be more servile, he had to be more obsequious; otherwise he was inviting, as Phinua had said, his master to take out his wrath on his arse.

Claudius rolled over and saw Brenn pouring warm water into the ewer for his morning wash and watched him silently. He really was a magnificent specimen, Claudius mused as he watched the younger man move quietly around the dressing area, the morning sun glinting off his golden-hair, giving him a hallowed appearance, his broad, muscled shoulders encased in one of his two tunics, this one was white linen and it molded so enticingly to his firm shoulders, outlining the way his back sloped inwards to a narrow waist after the swell of his shoulder-blades.

Gods, new clothes! Claudius suddenly recalled. His charge had only two items to his name, this was shocking for a servant of Aurius household! Today he would purchase some new finery for his newest slave, which would also give him the pleasure of basking in the company of the gorgeous man, grudging and mistrustful though his demeanour might be most of the time.

Brenn stiffened when he heard Claudius rise from his bed, but he recalled his earlier resolve to behave himself and quickly schooled his expression to deference, looking at his feet when he turned toward his master.

"Oh no, Brenn, not when it's just us." To his horror, Brenn felt the Roman's warm fingers cupping his chin, lifting it so that Brenn looked upon Claudius, from his slightly taller height. "There'll be time enough for you to practice this newfound servility when we head to the markets today to get you some proper attire."

Brenn stared at his master, this was always the danger when he looked him in the eyes, those deep black eyes of his master sucked him in, holding him captive until he forcibly dragged himself away. How was he doing this? Brenn wondered even as his new-twilight eyes remained affixed to those of his master.

"If you don't stop devouring me with those pretty, pretty eyes of yours, Brenn, I'm going to have to do some devouring myself." Claudius warned the blonde boy who started and pulled his eyes away from those of his master, but not before Claudius saw a rather becoming blush cover the manly cheeks of his gorgeous slave.

"Surely these are too many clothes." Brenn muttered as he carried the parcels with difficulty in his arms, there were so many of them.

"Nonsense, as my chattel you represent my House, and in my class it is even unfashionable for one's slaves to be seen in the same outfit twice."

Brenn stopped, shocked, then recalled himself and continued after his master. Yes indeed, as chattel it was not for himself that the clothes were purchased but rather so that he did not shame his master's house with a slovenly appearance. It hurt, he did not know why but it hurt to hear that.

"Hurry Brenn, we want to get these parcels in our vehicle then we can fulfill our invitation to Corvinus's for lunch." In this breath Claudius spoke to him as though he was a friend who was out with him paying visit to other friends.

Aeticus Juniper Corvinus had an ostentatious villa that had belonged to his parents but now was solely for his use. He was one of the most pampered of all the lordlings that Claudius called friend, but he was good in spite of it, being far more obsessed with his art than anything else, all the walls of the house and surrounding fortifications were marked with graffiti, murals and friezes that Aeticus had in various stages of completion. Brenn wandered past them in fascination. Rome was such an eclectic mess of the very beautiful and the very, very base, he thought to himself as he passed a near-finished design of a beautiful Nubian slave girl, depicted kneeling and dipping her finger into the puddle of water. The artist seemed to have focused on two things in this art, the symmetry of the ripples in the puddle around the girl's finger, and the mess of welts and scar-tissue that marred the girl's back.

"Claudius, you come at last!" A young lordling with shaggy black hair and porcelain skin came running up to where master and slave stood beside the painting, throwing his bone-thin arms around Claudius's considerably healthier shoulders.

"Corvinus, it would seem that I am the first one here." Claudius returned his embrace tentatively, not wanting to shatter his friend's frail bones and then pulled back, smiling at his black-haired friend.

"Come, come, we have a lunch awaiting. I expect that possibly Commodus and his party will join us some time during the afternoon, though one never knows with that man." Aeticus was an artist and a very accomplished sculptor and when one saw his thin vapid form with the white-white skin it was not uncommon to expect that he would be as thin and vapid in his mannerisms also, but such was not the case. Aeticus was very efficient and business-like, it was only when he immersed himself in his work that his eyes would take on a dreamy look and he would become as ethereal as his appearance would suggest.

"Commodus, huh?" Claudius made a worried face as he looked at Brenn.

"Mmm, better hide that one then," Aeticus told him, leading them to the inner pavilion.

"What did he mean by that?" Brenn whispered to Claudius as they mounted the ivory steps to the pavilion.

"Ah, about Commodus, well, he is a man who has an eye for anything gorgeous." Claudius teased Brenn who, in spite of receiving plenty of exposure to it, still blushed furiously to be reminded of how attractive his master found him.

"Will you hide me then?" Brenn asked, looking discomfited.

"Certainly not," Claudius chuckled. "After all, it is Commodus who owes me a favour, not the other way around, so he will have to do no more than look at you, much as I do."

It turned out that Commodus did come that day and that neither Brenn nor Claudius had any reason to worry that the man would have his heart set on Brenn for he had a new toy. Claudius saw the little Angle boy first, Gods he looked like Brenn, but he guessed there were many such Germanic children taken captive as a result of the latest Germanic conquest. This little boy had hair that curled in tight ringlets, however, like Brenn's had as a child though Claudius did not know this, and the boy's eyes were lighter than Brenn's, morning-blue where Brenn's were the deeper blue of new-twilight.

It was late into the evening when Commodus had arrived with his party and Claudius was deep into his cups by then. Brenn had gone to eat in the slaves' quarters when the man had arrived amid much shouting and laughter, he had brought an entourage of his friends whom Claudius and Aeticus welcomed warmly, many of them had been guests not so long ago at Claudius's birthday. Commodus had sat down on one of the backless couches and promptly dragged the bedazzled boy on to his lap, running a proprietary hand through the boy's silken-blonde curls.

"That's a lovely toy you have there." Aeticus lay on his belly across a couch, facing Commodus and his pet with a sly smile as he swirled his wine around in his goblet.

"Mmm, indeed, I got him from one of my father's friends, seemed he had come across a stock-lot, the lucky sod." Commodus planted wet lips on the boy's ear which caused the boy to squirm uncomfortably, trying to wriggle away but it was to no avail since he was held in the man's lap by one arm. Claudius's good humour left him even in spite of his sottedness, he did not himself condone relations with children, even the willing ones like his own Phinua, but forcing attention on unwilling children he found quite sickening.

"Perhaps the boy is overtired, you should send him to bed, Commodus, it is late," Claudius suggested diplomatically.

"Nonsense, we have not even been served the evening meal!" Commodus laughed, flashing him a knowing look. "I promise not to touch him in your presence until after that, Claud." As if to demonstrate his resolve, he pushed the boy into the arms of one of their friends, who promptly enclosed the child in a lascivious embrace.

Suddenly an anguished sound could be heard from across the room and all gathered on the couches turned in its direction. Claudius's eyes widened when he saw the possessor of the angst. Brenn stood, rooted to the spot, staring at the party gathered on the couches, but it wasn't his master with whose eyes his were locked, it was the blonde-haired boy and as Claudius turned between the two blonde Angles, it clicked very quickly; the same hair and eyes, the boy's just being a more childishly light version of the man's, who were these to each other? Brothers? Cousins?

Without thinking Brenn marched towards the gathered party even as the boy made a sound of protest, trying to rise from the arms of his current possessor. Claudius foresaw the events unfolding as if he was watching them occur presently and he jumped up to prevent the unpleasant scene he knew would play out. Discreetly he signaled to one of the burlier slaves who stood by the doors, guarding them.

"Brenn," he whispered softly, urgently. The man didn't even hear him, pushing ahead until Claudius was compelled to bodily stop him from advancing on the seated man and the prize in his lap.

"No!" Brenn yelled, pulling against the thick arms of the burly-man who had come to aid restraining him, struggling so violently that a second large guard had to be recruited to aid in restraining him. "No!" he cried louder as he was dragged from the room, away from the little boy who had begun wailing loudly, his cries only rising when his possessor tried to strike him to silence.

"Let me back, I must protect him!" Brenn screamed as he was dragged through the villa, past the alarmed slaves some of them clutching their chests to think of the destruction this misbehaving slave was going to bring down on them all did he continue his resistance. They did not care overly for him, they cared only that his master's wrath did not spill over on to them.

Once inside the room and the door barricaded by their attendants, Claudius swung Brenn around to face him. The man's eyes were wild and his expression tortured as he wrenched himself away and tried in vain to force open the barricaded door.

"Brenn, stop that!" Claudius started to lose his temper, his voice rising.

Brenn turned to him, his eyes desperate and glistening with fruitless tears. He sank to the floor, his back against the door; his head leaning back as he tried to swallow the tears back into his throat.

"Brenn what ails you?" Claudius came to stand before him, looking down at his distraught angel. "Who is the boy to you?"

"My brother!" Brenn cried, his voice breaking. "My only living brother...I MUST go back to him, I must save him from those lechers!" Brenn struggled back up but Claudius caught his arms, stilling him and staring into his frightened blue eyes.

"How?" he asked. "Will you turn your hand against a Roman in a house full of Romans and slaves of Romans, none of whom will lift a hand to help you and all of whom are bound to resist you?"

Brenn's breathing was deep and ragged; he swiped tears from the corners of his eyes. "I cannot leave him in those men's hands. He is my only brother!"

Claudius turned from the man who had got to his feet and now stood leaning against the barricaded door as if vainly hoping it would burst open from the pressure of his weight and indeed he must have felt heavy at that moment, Claudius could understand the man's desperation.

"Perhaps it will not be so bad for him." He tried to placate Brenn. "Commodus is not a wicked man, he does not delight in torture, only in the pleasures of the flesh, he will not harm your brother does the boy remain well-behaved."

Brenn launched himself away from the door, coming to grip Claudius's upper arms, his new-twilight eyes pinning those of his master. "I will kill him ere he touches my brother."

"And then what?" Claudius demanded. "You will be killed, and horribly, mind, so that you are an example to all other slaves, quite likely your brother will be killed also, so that you and all others see that your actions were in vain." He did not need to go on; just the mere mention that his actions could bring his brother's life into danger had terrified the Angle, causing his golden skin to go ashen.

Claudius held his eyes, even though he felt terribly for Brenn's plight. Suddenly there came about a change in Brenn's expression, the dejection was replaced with something else.

"If...if you could save my brother...?" Brenn began falteringly.

Claudius frowned, wondering at this new path that Brenn was going down.

"Can you?" the man repeated, his grip on his master's upper arms tightening.

"I...could," Claudius reluctantly admitted. It was yet possible, though it would not be without its difficulties.

Brenn looked down, maintaining his grip however, then slowly lifted his golden head, his new-twilight eyes pinning the velvet-black ones of his master,

"I would give you aught...that you wanted of me, if you could." Brenn's expression was dire and Claudius sucked in his breath at the depth of that promise. Then before he knew it he felt hot hard lips pressed against his own, kissing them with a solid finality. Claudius's expression registered his shock when Brenn pulled back from the promissory kiss.

"Aught, if you will save him. I will give you whatsoever of myself that you desire, for him." His voice had gone hoarse with emotion.

Claudius blinked at him in surprise. "I will deal with it." he said grimly, and then lifted his arms, pushing out of Brenn's grip on his shoulders and walking toward the door. His lips were set in a firm line that barely broke as he ordered the guard at the door to open it and admit his passage.