A/N: This story is SLASH, MALE/MALE, so if that's not your cup of tea, please don't read! Otherwise, you have been warned, and I hope you enjoy. :-)

What I Miss

A huge victory for Spartacus earlier that day meant another rare chance for celebration; wine and whores were plentiful, and the drunken roars of guards and gladiators both filled the halls and reverberated through the night. Men could be seen laughing together in small groups or coupled off with a woman or two, enjoying pleasures of a more sensual nature.

Varro spotted his most trusted friend sitting against a far wall. He made his way towards him with a smile and a fresh cup of wine.

The champion tried to wave the offering away. "One more drop and I fear I will be incapacitated for days to come."

The blond man laughed. "I would never let that happen, dear friend." He thrust the cup into the other's hand. "Enjoy this night, Spartacus. Times like these are too far and few between."

With a sigh the warrior accepted. "You are right, as always." Varro sat down beside the man as Spartacus took a swig of the sweet liquid.

Varro noticed a particularly enthusiastic coupling in a corner not far from where they were sitting. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Spartacus follow his gaze.

"Something on your mind, brother?"

The taller warrior tore his eyes away from the animalistic humping and looked to the ground in front of him. "I'm merely reminded of what I no longer have."

"Sex? Surely you can request any wh—"

Varro waved his hand in agitation, cutting the sentence short. "Not like that," he explained. "For as long as I've lived in this House, I have never had the desire to degrade myself to the standards of some wild animal, feeling only with my cock, angrily demanding pleasure from a whore who only opened her thighs from a command by a superior."

Spartacus sighed. "I share your sentiment, believe me."

Varro downed the rest of his wine at once, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I know you do. That is why my words come so freely."

The two men did not speak for some time, each lost in private thought. The blond man was only vaguely aware of how close they were sitting, the bare skin of their arms lightly touching.

Finally Spartacus' voice came distant, almost a whisper. "What do you miss?"

Varro considered. "Soft lips on mine. Face lingering on neck, breathing in the sweet scent." He glanced sideways at his friend and found the warrior's eyes watching him.

He noticed, probably for the first time, that they were blue.

He cleared his throat before continuing. "Warm body against mine, savoring every caress, every whisper of love in the ear."

Spartacus nodded absentmindedly, almost to himself. "Making love." He finished his own wine. "Love." Varo watched his friend's eyes roam around the chaotic room. "Of which only a parody exists in this House." The champion closed his eyes and rubbed the creases on his forehead with the fingers of one hand.

Whether it was this talk or wine that clouded Varro's judgment, he did not know, but before he knew it his hand was gently prying away the fingers against the warrior's face. Spartacus widened his eyes but for the moment did not seem to resist, even as Varro clutched the man's hand in his own and slowly brought it to his lips. He placed the lightest of kisses on the palm, risked a miniscule linger, and let go.

Tense seconds passed, the blond gladiator's gaze fixed at his feet, embarrassed.

He didn't look up when he heard Spartacus say his name, instead taking a moment to gather his thoughts into some form of apology.

Yet suddenly, to his surprise, he felt warm fingers at his chin, gently forcing his face towards the champion.

"Varro," Spartacus repeated.

The warrior could not begin to guess what thoughts brewed behind his friend's eyes as Spartacus held his gaze, fingers now moving from chin to cheek.

"It's alright," his friend promised.

The whispered words made Varro's heart skip a beat. He stared incredulously into bright blue eyes and wondered how anything at all was alright; by the gods, what was happening…

Just as he was about to speak, Spartacus kissed him, quick yet gentle, surprisingly soft lips meeting his own for the briefest of moments.

His mind long gone, Varro remained helplessly frozen, not realizing that his eyes had fluttered shut as the champion's other hand moved to tangle in his hair.

"Is this what you miss?" Spartacus murmured, meeting his lips once more. The kiss lingered this time, and Varro's lips began to part of their own accord. He moaned in disapproval when Spartacus pulled back, yet the action allowed him to momentarily regain his senses.

Despite having initiated this whole thing, Varro's mind became skittish. "I'm not—"

"I know you're not," the champion cut him off. "And neither am I."

The blond man glanced about the room. "But—"

"No one will give notice." The other man sighed, exasperated. "Do you want to show me what you have been longing for since entering this House or not?"

Varro took a ragged breath. "That is my desire."

"Then act upon it." Spartacus' lips formed a slight smile. "This offer shall not be extended indefinitely."

Despite himself, Varro grinned. "As you command."

He leaned in close to his friend, strong arms gingerly wrapping around the other's waste. "This is what I miss." He brought his nose to the champion's hair, neck, collarbone, shoulder, breathing in the scent there, savoring it. His hands slowly roamed around the broad back they encircled, delighting in the feel of smooth, bare skin.

He felt Spartacus lean into him, body warming in anticipation, yet exhibiting patience and restraint.

"I miss soothing caresses," Varro purred in the other man's ear, bringing his hands from bare back to navel. "Smooth skin…" His hands traveled upwards, grazing taut nipples. The champion gasped against his neck. "A warm, scented body responding to my touch…"

His palms now lay to rest on either side of the shorter man's face. Spartacus' eyes were closed, wet lips parted, breath barely audible. Varro took a moment to admire the exquisite bone structure between his hands, and then he kissed the strangely sweet lips before him.

Mouths locked together in a honeyed yet fervent embrace. Lips parted to allow entry, which each man took advantage of, soft tongues engaging in a slow dance for dominance.

"Spartacus," Varro gasped against the other man's mouth, his kisses becoming stronger, more willful, as desire built in his groin. "My body…"

"Let it happen," Spartacus breathed hotly, matching the blond warrior's building passion with his own.

"By the gods," Varro moaned, feeling a hand slide past the flimsy cloth covering his lower region. Long fingers wrapped around the hotness growing there, and his head fell back as he whimpered toward the ceiling. He felt Spartacus take immediate advantage of his exposed neck, planting hot kisses beyond count.

There in the open, two men forgot about the people around them, forgot about the House, forgot about their women…

There the two friends made love to each other. The actions were familiar, reminders of days long past, yet the experience was fresh and breathtaking.

Later when they lay together, amid ragged pillows against a wall, Spartacus whispered his real name into Varro's ear. The taller man held the champion close to his chest, savoring this precious moment, and wondering if it would be lost forever with the rise of the sun.

END

A/N: Thanks for reading! I know that was short, but here's to hoping it wasn't too corny. ;-)