Title: The Fruit of Love

Author: Keir

Rating: M for swearing and dat sex

The Gist of Things: Hatori is a proud and powerful man of the Senate of Rome. Kyou and Momiji are his dutiful slaves who live to serve and please him.

A/N: Forgive me. I just dgaf about titles any more, hurrrr. This is written for sakiOlivia, who requested HatorixKyouxMomiji perhaps involving fruit. :D I hope she likes this because I was so bad at editing it, haha. (When am I not slow? ;_;)

The gate closed with a soft clang as he passed into the broad front courtyard. The sun beat down unrelentingly as his sandals tread over the worn cobbles. What household workers occupied the square tending the grounds paused in their work to respectfully incline their heads in deferment until he passed. His toga whispered softly about his ankles.

Within the house it was cooler, providing shade from the bright sun. It was not yet the peak of the season and already it was scorching hot. A bead of sweat slowly trailed down his temple. Word in the marketplaces was that crops had begun dying, withering under a rainless drought, and the options on how to deal with such a conundrum were fast becoming a debate on the Senate floor.

Such duties were not to be thought about beneath his own roof, though. Trailing through the opulent receiving rooms, he made note of their immaculate state and it pleased him. Passing through a doorway, he briefly subjected himself to the heat again, crossing the inner courtyard beneath a sheltering walkway. Even the trailing flowering vines on he trellises, so well-tended here, seemed limp from the heat. Once he passed through another doorway on the other side, he walked up the stairs and strode into his personal sitting room. A man stood there, setting out a tray of delicacies on a low table. The whisper of Hatori's toga quieted as he came to a stop. He had thought for sure that he had been quiet enough yet the other man looked up.

"You're almost on time today." The other man fussed with the position of the food before straightening. "I sent Hiro ahead to tell me when you would be home. If he had lied to me again as he did yesterday, I would have given him stripes."

Hatori took a moment to study the other man, who always seemed to be perpetually frowning. "He is just a boy. You can't blame him much for not having the patience to wait for a session to end."

The slave scoffed, lip lifting as if his owner had said something truly offensive. "Some master you are. Come, eat. And don't tell me you're not hungry or I'll never bother to have any food prepared for you at all."

As usual, Kyou was direct. Many would have struck the slave for such impetuous words, but that had never been something Hatori was willing to do. Kyou was more to him than just the head of his household slaves, their bond deeper than that of owner and property.

It was many years ago that their paths had crossed. When Hatori had been serving in the legion for the glory of Rome, he had happened across Kyou, who had been a spitfire young boy then. His regiment had just claimed victory over a small Caledonian village and the sun had finally been on the rise, casting a white pall on the world. As he had crossed through the village he found a few soldiers ringing a boy with fiery hair, taunting him for sport. Hatori had watched as they jabbed at soft flesh with their spears, but their opponent never backed down, willing to fight rather than be taken alive. Some said his orange hair was the sign of someone demon-born, others that it meant luck, but Hatori knew it was a reflection of the fire in his soul. He had put a stop to the baiting and claimed the boy for his own, and Kyou had been his ever since.

He had never struck the slave other than in the heat of the night, his bare palm coming into contact with tight buttocks, but that was a different matter of punishment entirely.

Hatori took a seat on the multitude of soft pillows strewn across the floor and began to nibble at the different foods laid out: goat cheese, flat bread, figs, small sausages, and boiled eggs. Kyou had prepared too much, as usual. Even if he had been one to require large meals, Hatori didn't think he could find that much of an appetite in such heat. He watched his slave as the other man wandered about the room tidying things. Kyou moved easily, self-assured, and though he was rather blunt, Hatori found him to have a particular grace.

Kyou had been an excellent choice for a body slave; he was young and therefore easily trainable, and he had grown up around the ways of war in a land besieged by it. Best of all Kyou was not like other young men as he never complained of harsh conditions. Hatori could recall countless hours of the boy walking beside his horse, loaded down with equipment yet never tiring as he followed the legion. He had learned quickly all of the raiment Hatori garbed himself with and what to expect him to wear for each occasion. He always helped his master dress quickly and efficiently. The greatest problems his slave possessed were his quick temper and his inability to stay silent when he had an opinion.

Kyou had always been strong. It had been easy to forget how young and fragile the boy was when he was normally so diligent, and Hatori admitted he was not without fault. The worst had happened on a night not more than a month after he had acquired the slave. The legion had been drinking quite heavily after news that they would be headed out of enemy territory and back to a more civilized city. Hatori had sent Kyou out for more water, having decided against joining in the festivities, and had grown worried when the boy seemed to take too long. He had gone out from his tent to search for the errant slave amongst the camp.

The boy hadn't gotten far. Kyou had been ringed by a group of drunk soldiers, and they had managed to tear the boy's tunic and loincloth off, joking about the little demon between his legs. One of the soldiers had his erect cock out; it was quite obvious what they intended to do. Kyou was a slave and therefore possessed no rights to his body, though the men would have to pay Hatori restitution for any damage incurred to his property. He remembered briefly feeling guilty for the angry thoughts he had conjured up of Kyou attempting to escape.

He had been about to step in when the group's laughter had died. The slave had produced a small paring knife, the one allowed him by Hatori for everyday tasks, and held it at the man above him, blade pressed to the side of his exposed cock.

Hatori had been mesmerized by the look on Kyou's face; he had seen its like once before. At that time he had been leading a hunting party which had come across a mountain lion. They had cornered the beast and Hatori had been ready to deal a killing blow when he heard the cry of its cubs nearby. The lioness had stared at him, never backing down as her face had curled into a rictus of a snarl. Her look had said that even if Hatori pierced her heart she would still try to rip his throat out. Kyou looked nothing so much as like that lioness.

Much as he had called the hunting party off, he had stepped in to intervene; the soldiers had not dared disobey an officer. As Kyou had stood, he nicked his assailant with his blade, drawing a thin line of blood. The soldier had demanded restitution for the damage and Hatori had refused, telling the man that his cock was worth about as much as his slave's torn clothes and that they were even. Water forgotten, he had led Kyou back to the tent.

They never spoke of it, but Hatori remembered clearly how he had held the weeping boy against him through that night. At that time, his feelings had begun to evolve.

When Kyou drifted near, it broke Hatori's reflection. He could smell the spices of the kitchen and the salt of sweat on his skin. Hatori grabbed the slave and pulled him close, bringing him to kneel in front of his master. He dipped a finger in soft goat cheese and brought it to ripe lips. Without hesitation Kyou opened his mouth and took the digit in. Hatori felt the warmth of a tongue swirl over his flesh, cleaning it thoroughly. The slave brought a hand up to cover his master's as he let the saliva-coated finger come free; his other hand lifted to run across the delicate skin around Hatori's left eye.

Kyou had been with him for two years when he lost most of the sight in that eye. A tribesman had blown some sort of powder into his face and there had been no way to wash it out on the battlefield so he had fought on. Kyou had tried to treat it to the best of his ability, but nothing could heal the irreparable damage. Though the boy had never said anything, Hatori knew he had been distraught by the incident. Shortly after, during his recovery, he had received word that he was to be honourably discharged for his wounds; he would be returning to Rome for the first time in four years.

He had sat his slave down and explained the situation. He had offered Kyou his freedom for his years of good service, expecting him to flee back to the hills where he had been born, but the slave had refused, stating that he was an orphan and his clan was gone besides. Furthermore, he felt indebted to Hatori for saving his life.

The first night on the ship bearing them to España was the first time he took his slave, who willingly submitted. Their grunts had filled the fine cabin he had been allotted as he marked Kyou with his seed multiple times. He had not had sex since his wife Kana had died on the childbirth bed many years ago. He had never felt the need or attraction until then, but his need for the slave had overwhelmed him.

Exotic crimson eyes watched him now, waiting for him to make the first move. He lifted a hand, entangling it in unruly orange hair. Kyou gave an almost inaudible sigh, leaning forward in anticipation.

"Master, a letter has co—" The little slave paused just within the door, cheeks going pink as he sensed that he had interrupted something. "I'm sorry, master."

"It's alright, Momiji," Hatori said. Kyou's perpetual frown was back in place and the older man felt regret as the slave rocked back to his feet and stalked across the room to busy himself with something. "What were you saying?"

"A letter for you, master." The little slave danced over to him, quick on his feet, and handed over a tightly-wrapped piece of parchment. Hatori unrolled it and perused its contents with a quick eye.

"I'll write you a response to take back later. Sometimes it is good to make someone wait."

"Yes, master."

Hatori looked up at the diminutive slave, who simply smiled back at him. Momiji was a new acquisition to his household. The man who he usually went to for such purchases had been saving the slave to show Hatori in particular. Momiji was from Gault, with the striking blond hair of the region. He was fifteen, two years older than Kyou had been when he came to his master, and lucky that Hatori had bought him. Another man had also been interested in purchasing the blonde, wishing to have the boy castrated to preserve his sweet, high voice. Momiji did indeed have a beautiful singing voice and Hatori had him entertain guests on the rare occasions he hosted a dinner party. More regularly the boy was employed as a messenger; he could not read like Kyou and so his ignorance was ideal for carrying missives.

Sometimes he also warmed his master's bed at night.

Hatori had been on the lookout for another slave he could use in such a way and he found Momiji's looks to not be objectionable in the least. Kyou had begun to complain about how voracious his master's "appetite" had grown of late and how frequently he was left sore, so Hatori had decided to help alleviate the problem.

He watched a bead of sweat lingering on the boy's collarbone, a sign of how hot it was outside. "Sit, Momiji. Take some refreshment."

"Really, master?" At the man's nod the blonde sat with his legs tucked under him and reached for a fig.

Hatori watched his other slave out of the corner of his eye. Kyou was leaning against the wall, arms crossed as he stared out across the veranda. His master wondered what he was thinking. His intentions to acquire a new slave had never been hidden and he had openly asked his current lover if that was a problem only to have Kyou shrug and say he would accept whatever his master wished. That was Kyou: always stubborn with his feelings.

"Kyou," he called and the slave turned his head to stare at him. "Please prepare me some fruit and a bowl of cream."

The slave's frown deepened. "You hate sweet things." Despite the assertion he uncrossed his arms and left for the kitchens to see what they had.

Hatori waited until he was gone before beckoning the blond boy closer and pulling him into his lap. His cheeks had a light pink glow but he seemed to have no objections. Hatori reached for a fig and set it to equally pink lips, watching as the slave nibbled at it as if he were a rabbit. When the boy was done Hatori pressed his fingers against his lips. Momiji kissed them sweetly before licking them. Hatori moved to entangle his fingers in soft blond hair, pulling the slave close for a kiss. Lips opened easily for his questing tongue and Hatori spent several minutes exploring the sweet, warm mouth, the little slave moaning excitedly against him. One hand traveled up the smooth skin of an arm until it came into contact with cloth. Nimble fingers pushed it aside until the material of Momiji's tunic was pooled around his hips. "Master..." The breathy sigh against his lips smelled like figs.

"I have your fruit."

Hatori looked over to where the growled words originated from. Kyou was outright scowling now. His master watched as he stalked across the room, hands holding two clay bowls. "Set them on the floor." He noted the way Kyou's nostrils flared but the slave did as he was told. Hatori shifted, gathering Momiji in his arms and lifting him up. He lay the boy out on the table on his back and worked the tunic off slim hips and legs, noting the way Kyou averted his eyes.

"Do I have your leave?" the older slave ground out.

"No," Hatori denied him. Kyou's jaw jutted out, a sure sign that he was clenching his teeth. Hatori untied the boy's loincloth next, baring smooth flesh to the air. He picked up the first bowl, the one filled with fruit, and held it in his lap as he considered the small figure laid out before him. First he picked up a couple tangerine slices. His hand hovered above the boy's chest as he squeezed the fruit, dribbling the sticky juice across pink nipples. Momiji bit his lip but made no sign of protest. Hatori left a piece on each nub and moved to the sliced strawberries, taking several and sliding them across the hairless torso, spreading pink juice before arranging them in a line which stopped at the belly button.

Hatori noted the penis stirring to life between Momiji's legs; the boy was young and responsive. He began laying a few blueberries in the hollow of the slave's throat, squeezing one to let the juice dribble and collect there. The scent of the fruit hung heavy in the air now, the heat intensifying its pungency. Hatori grabbed a cherry and plunged his thumb into it, holding it over the boy's navel so it would collect the juice. He dropped the mutilated cherry into the bowl and picked up another, repeating the puncturing process with his thumb and scooping out the pit. Momiji was fully erect now and Hatori took his petite penis in hand and fit the cherry over the top of its head.

Hatori set the first bowl aside and grabbed the second. Starting at the boy's throat, he tipped the dish and let the sweet cream trickle out, pouring it in a line down the middle of Momiji's body and then letting out a generous flow over the slave's cock. Amber eyes studied Kyou as the sweet cream began to move in runnels down Momiji's sides. The older slave was showing interest now mixed with his grumpiness.

"Kyou." His lover looked over at him, face still conveying his petulance. "I want you to eat the fruit."

Kyou scowled and turned his face away. "No, thank you. I'm not hungry," he bit out. His jaw clenched even harder when a rumble from his stomach betrayed him. Kyou always ate after he fed his master, the habit of regimen, and Hatori had counted on it.

"I insist," Hatori said softly. Though the words were polite, his tone made it a command. He waited in anticipation for Kyou's reaction. The slave could still refuse him, get up and walk away, and Hatori would let him. No other could claim such liberties in his household as Kyou did.

Finally the younger man relented with a muttered word in his native tongue, fingers reaching for a slice of strawberry. "No. Use only this." Hatori tapped his lips with a finger. Kyou looked affronted and lifted his lip in distaste, and his master knew he would refuse now.

Kyou had set a hand to his knee, preparing to rise, when a soft voice stopped him. "Kyou, I don't mind if you want to." Momiji's wide brown eyes stared at the older slave. "I like Kyou and wouldn't mind at all."

Hatori's lips quirked at the look of consternation on his lover's face. Kyou was gruff with the blonde, but never unfair, and Momiji was a cheerful, forgiving creature. Crimson eyes glanced at Hatori before the older slave gave a huff and acquiesced. A callused, tanned hand tilted the boy's head back and Kyou's face lowered to the hollow of his throat. A deft tongue managed to roll a blueberry onto it, but another went tumbling down the boy's neck, leaving a trail of purple juice along the way. Quick fingers snatched it before it could fall to the floor and pressed it into Momiji's mouth. Kyou bit down on his own and let sweet and tart mingle on his tongue. He went back for the last few, but this time he bit down indelicately. His teeth closed on pale skin, nipping hard enough to leave a mark before he pulled back with the berries in his mouth. He crushed them between his teeth before returning to lap up some of the cream, the honeyed taste mixing with some of the boy's sweat.

Hatori watched on silently, hungry now, though for a reason that had nothing to do with food.

Kyou moved down to the tangerines next, tongue prodding at the fruit, wiggling it against the nipple it perched on. Momiji made a gratifying little noise at the teasing. Kyou wriggled his tongue until it made its way through the flesh of the fruit to the flesh of the boy, the tight nub hard against him as he slicked it with saliva. His tongue flicked back and forth over the nipple before finally curling, taking the tangerine slice into his mouth.

After swallowing he lapped his way across smooth chest, tongue running through cream and tangerine juices. Foregoing any sweet treatment this time, he bit down on the fruit, teeth catching the nipple beneath. Momiji cried out and Kyou tugged roughly on the little nub before sucking on it; the action caused his mouth to clamp down on the tangerine, its juices mixing with his saliva, leaking from his mouth onto Momiji's skin. The little nipple glistened when Kyou pulled back to swallow his mouthful. A line of juice had dribbled from the slave's lips down his chin and Hatori desperately wanted to lick it clean.

Kyou shifted on his knees and headed for the strawberries. His tongue pinned the first slice down and began pushing it over the slippery skin through the sweet cream. Whether it tickled or felt good, Momiji shuddered. Kyou's lips closed on the strawberry, sucking it in before moving to the next slice. His tongue touched down on flesh, circling the slice and making a trail through the cream. Momiji moaned, torso arching toward the feeling and a leg hitching upward; a strawberry was displaced, tumbling down to the table.

Hatori was on the verge of correcting the boy but was surprised to hear Kyou do it first. A tanned hand pressed the errant thigh back down. "Don't move," he growled.

It surprised Hatori to see Kyou take such initiative. For the many years the man had bedded his slave, Kyou had always remained the bottom. Hatori had often wondered if Kyou had more masculine urges, but the one time he had offered to procure a woman for him, his lover had scowled and walked out of the room without a word.

Kyou ducked his head and took another slice between his teeth then leaned up, bringing it to Momiji's lips, which parted in anticipation. Kyou released the strawberry into the mouth below his but the boy leaned up, looking for a kiss. Kyou denied him and headed back down to consume the last slice, rolling it on his tongue before swallowing. He glanced up at Hatori, eyes blazing, before turning back to the creamy pale stomach beneath him.

Momiji's tiny navel was filled with cherry juice and sweet cream swirled together, the surface of it quivering as his belly rose and fell. Kyou's face hovered above it, a thumb stroking against the boy's thigh as their eyes met and held. Kyou brought his lips to the tiny dip and sucked as much of the liquid as he could into his mouth before heading back up again.

He could feel Momiji quiver beneath his hand. Kyou brought the other to the boy's jaw, coaxing his lips to open. When he was satisfied, he held the other slave steady, mouth just above Momiji's. Kyou parted his lips and let the juice mixed with his saliva trickle down into Momiji's open mouth. The boy tried to squirm beneath him, but he held him until his own mouthful was gone, the last of it dribbling down his chin. Only then did he give Momiji what he wanted.

Kyou's lips met the boy's, tongue plunging inside, tasting cherry juice and sweet cream and Momiji. The little slave met him with enthusiasm, tongue rubbing and pushing the juice between them. Kyou dominated the kiss, pushing back hard, tongue roughly exploring where it pleased. When he pulled back he pushed the boy's jaw closed and the boy obeyed by swallowing.

Kyou had been about to return below but small hands on his shoulders stopped him. The other slave leaned up, tiny pink tongue sticking out, and lapped from the underside of Kyou's jaw up to the corner of his mouth. Crimson eyes widened as the action was repeated, Momiji licking clean the mixture of various juices and sweet cream from his skin. The boy's hips rolled upward as he did so, signaling his excitement. As a last act, he leaned up farther and lapped up a stray spot of cream from the tip of Kyou's nose before laying back down.

Hatori was so hard that it hurt. Undoubtedly he owned the two sexiest slaves in all of Rome. He hadn't even dreamed that Kyou would willingly kiss Momiji; his lover was hard to judge and he was unsure if he found the boy attractive.

Also, he had never seen Momiji be so forward. Perhaps it was that they were both slaves that found him so easily lapping at Kyou's face. With Hatori as his master, he asked permission for everything or was simply silent and let Hatori do as he pleased. The man was aching now and had to hold himself back from joining in as he was curious as to what they would do with one another.

Abruptly Kyou rocked back on his heels and stood, crossing the room and taking a jar down from a shelf. With sure steps he returned to kneel between Momiji's legs, settling in between his knees on the floor. The boy gasped as the other slave grabbed him by the tops of his thighs and pulled him across the table until his rump was right at the edge. Kyou placed the thin legs over his shoulders for support then lowered his head once more.

First he ran his tongue over the single remaining fruit, tongue sliding across taut skin before working the boy's erection into his mouth. Momiji moaned sweetly as Kyou's tongue ran over the ridge peeking out just beneath the edge of the cherry. His tongue circled back to the top, prodding at the fruit, pushing it down, juices slowly squeezing out, some escaping past his lips to trickle down the pale cock. He chased after it, mouth easily taking in more flesh. He tasted the mixture of cherry juice and sweet cream again, though this time the taste of the honeyed cream was far more overpowering.

On his way back up he popped the cherry off the tip. His tongue delved into the hole and was met with the saltiness of the boy's precum collected inside. When he had tasted enough he turned and spat the hollowed-out fruit into his master's lap, smiling knowingly at the lump beneath his toga. Hatori frowned back at him and the slave arched his back, rump thrust into the air to show that he was still submissive to his owner. Hatori had never seen Kyou so playful and it did wonders to make him ache even more.

Kyou returned his attention to between Momiji's legs. The boy was small, less than the average size, and therefore was easy to swallow whole. Momiji writhed beneath him as his tongue sought to find every last bit of cream and juice until finally there was only the taste of flesh.

The boy bucked as slick fingers prodded between his cheeks and Kyou had to use the other hand to pin his hips down. He had removed the lid to the jar sitting on the floor and wet his fingers with lubricant, a mixture of plant oils and water that Hatori frequently bought and stashed about the house for their trysts. His fingers arrowed straight for that tight pink hole, rubbing in a few circles before shoving their way in.

Momiji arched beneath him, stuffing more cock down his throat. His fingers pumped slowly in their confines. The boy was definitely no longer a virgin—he was sure Hatori had seen to that multiple times—yet he still felt tighter than Kyou himself when he self-pleasured. His tongue worked the length in his mouth with the ease of practice and he slapped the boy's hands away, preventing them from entangling in his hair. Momiji produced a constant stream of effeminate noise and Kyou wondered how he hadn't gone hoarse yet.

The secrets to Momiji's pleasure were easily revealed. The boy was responsive and playing with the head made his heels dig into Kyou's back. The older slave smirked as he mauled the spongy tip, tongue merciless; he rather liked being able to drive the blonde wild. The boy thrashed all too soon and Kyou removed his mouth, denying him his release.

"Kyou!" Momiji protested. The older slave ignored this and slathered his cock with lubricant even as he pulled his fingers free, then set the jar aside. He pulled Momiji's legs from his shoulders and set them around his waist. Kyou paused and took a moment to survey the boy laid out beneath him. Momiji's hands rested palm-up next to his shoulders and he stared back at Kyou. His blond hair was tousled, eyes hooded and lips parted. Painted across his body were various fruit juices, purple and pink and red, and the cream had dried white. He looked like some sort of sacrifice to a fertility god. "Please, Kyou, be in me."

Kyou blushed at the softly-spoken request. When he and Hatori were together they barely said a word; such sentiments were foreign to him and he wondered how the boy could bear to speak them. He growled at his own discomfiture, fingers digging into pale thighs as he aimed his erection; it delved between round cheeks to bump against puckered flesh.

"Ohhh...!" The little slave moaned and arched as Kyou forced his way inside. His breath caught as he managed to get the head of his cock through; the body around him was clamping tight, so very tight. He slid his way in slowly, senses feeling heightened. "Ahh...ahhhhn, Kyouuuu..." Hearing his name was like a jolt down his spine that went to his hips and made them push as deep as they could go.

It wasn't exactly like he thought it would be. The tightest feeling was around Momiji's entrance, and though the rest of him was cradled, it wasn't nearly as restricting. Though he knew he should wait, his instincts made him waste no time in beginning to thrust. His lovemaking was as blunt as his fighting style, focused on one thing alone. His hips worked back and forth, nostrils flaring as his breathing began to pick up. The boy beneath him spread his legs farther to accommodate the movement as Kyou found a rhythm. The little blonde looked so good as his whole body was jounced that Kyou could shelve his jealousy just a little bit.

He drew the line when hands reached out to touch him, pushing them away. "Kyou," a deep voice admonished him.

Kyou bared his teeth and growled at the command, but was obedient, letting go of the thin wrists. Momiji could barely reach him and his fingertips ran down his new lover's toned belly. Kyou shivered, cock jumping at the feeling. Hatori's hands were firm and decisive whereas Momiji's were tentative and exploratory. Kyou shoved in harder but that didn't seem to dissuade the boy's hands as they wandered. He drew the line at having his nipples touched and leaned farther over the prone body beneath him; his hands moved small ones to his shoulders. "Leave them there," he growled.

He didn't give Momiji time to reply as he resumed thrusting. The feeling was overwhelming, so different from hands or mouth. He plowed into Momiji, sure that it had to hurt at least a little bit, but the boy just kept moaning his name, hands trying to pull him closer rather than push him away. Kyou doubled his efforts with the sharp slap of flesh on flesh, hipbones slamming into a pert rump.

No wonder Hatori liked to do this so often; his cock felt wonderful, squeezed and pressed on. Momiji was beautiful below him, his hole feeling as if it were grasping at Kyou's length, trying not to let it get away. Kyou panted from the unfamiliar exertion, sweat beginning to give his body a light sheen in the heat.

"More... More, Kyou!"

The older slave snarled at the younger's pleas. He didn't know how much more he could give; already his climax was approaching. His rhythm faltered and his hips rutted hard enough for Momiji to be lifted up. Still the boy cried out for more. Kyou gave a strained grunt as his orgasm coiled up low in his belly, ready to be released.

Hatori knew the signs well: the jaw going slack, powerful chest flexing, the tilt of the head. He had many years to become familiar with his lover. "Kyou," he said, voice a low command, "not inside."

Kyou quickly extricated himself from tight heat, replacing it with his own hand. His arm pumped frantically, thighs tensing as his testicles tightened. He looked down at his own flushed erection hovering above the boy's pale one as he throttled himself toward pleasure.

"Please, Kyou, give it to me!"

He lost it at those words, cock pulsating as he ejaculated. He moved in the rhythm that he liked when he masturbated—stroke, stroke, pulse, stroke, stroke, pulse—hand pausing at every shot. Kyou grunted as his seed splashed out to decorate Momiji's belly, clear fluid shining against his skin. Hatori wanted no one to lay claim to them but himself, and their seed was his alone as well; Kyou didn't mind as it was his prerogative as their master.

Kyou exhaled sharply at the end of his climax, chest heaving with laboured breath. The boy stared up at him, eyes pleading, and Kyou reached out to give him mercy.

"No," Hatori said, and the hand stopped immediately. "Momiji, come here." The little slave sat up and slid off the table on shaky legs, Kyou's juicy addition sliding down from chest to belly. "Turn around." Momiji shifted on his knees until his back faced his master and he was staring at Kyou. Hatori's broad hands grasped pert, pale butt cheeks, slightly blushing from their contact with Kyou's pelvis, and spread them. He admired the stretched pink hole, still glistening with lubricant, but not enough. With the ease of familiarity his fingers delved into the jar and he coated his erection with lubricant, pulling back the foreskin from the head.

Seeing the two beautiful young men he owned giving and seeking pleasure with each other had truly been a gorgeous sight. He wanted to possess them both as soon as possible, to quickly reassert his dominance.

Hatori pulled Momiji backward by the hips until his body was hovering over the man's lap, directing the boy to right on top of his engorged penis. It slid home swiftly and with ease, the slave's body arching as he gasped. Broad, callused hands ran over pale skin, so soft and smooth.

Amber eyes met crimson as he caressed the male on his lap. Kyou watched them, satisfied cock limp between his legs. Hatori wished he knew what his lover was thinking behind that closed-off face with lips down-turned. Hatori picked up the forgotten bowl of fruit and tilted it just enough to send what juice had collected pouring over Momiji's hardness, making the boy squirm. "Clean him up, Kyou."

His lover tensed, scowling. They stared at each other in a battle of wills; Kyou was able to refuse but Hatori would find some delectable way to punish him if he did. Eventually Kyou looked away in submission and bowed down. Hatori lifted Momiji's legs from the underside of his thighs and spread them wide, exposing him. Kyou was bent low before them, easily watched over the boy's shoulder.

Momiji's crotch radiated the sweet smell of fruit. His cock was painted pink by the juices and they had soaked his pubic region. Kyou began by licking from base to tip, making broad swipes with his tongue. The poor boy quivered, no doubt aching for release by now, but he would have to wait a little longer.

Kyou worked the head into his mouth with his tongue and took the length in deep. Fingers tangled in his hair as Momiji began moaning his name again, and Kyou obliged their tugs and pushes, letting his mouth be guided. The boy's cock was lively, twitching as Momiji tensed now and again. Kyou pressed his tongue against the underside, pushing the head hard against the roof of his mouth as it moved back and forth, driving Momiji wild. Quickly he felt the head swell and, sensing the oncoming orgasm, pulled back.

Momiji cried out, and Kyou was surprised at the desperate strength of the tugging at his hair. Kyou delved lower instead of giving in, tongue swirling over inner thighs and around the base of the erection, sweet juice overpowering his tongue. Momiji was not hairless like a younger boy, but what he did possess was fine and sparse. Kyou found a pair of small, tight testicles as he traveled lower, easily fitting both in his mouth. Momiji's voice carried his pleas for release as the older slave rolled his bollocks in his mouth, tongue lashing and prodding vigorously. When he let them go they came from his mouth with a wet pop.

He would have gone to finish off Momiji when something distracted him. Thumbing the boy's testicles out of the way, he took note that the juices had flowed even farther down.

"Kyou, have you finished?"

The slave smirked. "Not yet, master."

Hatori perked up at the use of his title. Kyou only used it when he had to in public or when he was angry about something. He wondered what the slave was up to when he felt a little tickle at the base of his cock which soon became an insistent press. Hot breath wafted over his skin and he knew.

Kyou was using his tongue down there, licking at where he and Momiji's bodies connected. The boy's hole twitched and Hatori thrust up. No doubt the touch of wet tongue around his anus felt just as good to Momiji as it did on his cock. A small hand lifted to entangle in his hair just as its brother was entwined in Kyou's.

Kyou grew bolder, tongue wriggling hard against the stretched hole. Momiji made short, sweet noises and the older slave wanted to hear more. He tilted his chin and began thrusting his tongue, trying to find a way between puckered and smooth flesh. Momiji's muscles spasmed and Kyou attacked harder, finally rewarded by his effort as he managed to insert himself. His tongue was trapped inside the boy's heat beside their master's cock and as he forced himself deeper Momiji began squealing and spouting gibberish in his guttural native tongue.

Kyou thought he felt a vein along his master's flesh and pressed hard against it, wanting to please him as well. Hatori's hips bucked and Kyou took it as a good sign. Saliva pooled in his mouth and dribbled from the corner of his lips down his chin but he didn't mind it as he pleasured the two. He tongue fucked the boy's hole, nose filled with the mingling scents of fruit and musk. Only when his jaw began to ache to the point of pain did he pull back.

After a brief rest his tongue went back to work, only this time it trailed from the base of his master's penis down to the testicles. Kyou had always thought of them as the perfect example of masculinity and virility. Hatori's heavy balls hung low; Kyou could think of many a night he enjoyed watching his master walk naked around his room, large sac swaying gently.

He buried his face against them, nuzzling the delicate skin. A broad hand joined Momiji's on the slave's head and Kyou kissed the flesh a few times before taking a testicle in his mouth; he could only fit one at a time. His tongue rolled the ball in its sac, gently teasing it before his mouth moved on to work the other one. The smell that was all his master's own delighted him, and he ran his tongue in a few broad swipes over the contours of the sac before regretfully leaving off. Amber eyes stared down at him, eagle sharp, as Kyou wiped away saliva from his chin the back of his hand. "Shouldn't you be fucking someone?" he taunted. Without waiting for a reply he took Momiji's drooling cock back into his mouth.

Hatori's fingers tightened in orange hair. Any other slave would be taken to task over such flippant words, but Kyou knew how to get away with it. His lover was right; the boy had been kept waiting too long and the ache of his own erection had only grown worse. He brought both hands beneath Momiji's thighs again, lifting them until they touched pale chest, and began thrusting. The small, slim figure bounced easily on his lap.

Momiji's cock slid in and out of Kyou's mouth as the boy was fucked. The head of his penis had become more flushed, no doubt from the teasing it was given, the corona swollen and prominent. Kyou curled his lips inward, trying to keep his teeth from scraping with the unpredictable motion. Momiji moaned his name over and over, making him feel like a god being prayed to. Each time the cock in his mouth rose, his tongue was there, waiting to rub roughly over the head.

It did not take long to excite the boy to climax. Momiji jerked, torso leaning forward as he cried out, fingers yanking at orange hair. Kyou blocked the back of his throat in preparation as Momiji's flesh swelled. Cum shot from the slit, seed splashing against Kyou's tongue and filling his mouth.

Hatori tensed, fingers digging into pale flesh. There was no mistaking his young slave's orgasm, especially with his muscles shifting around the length inside him. Kyou's mouth was on the boy's cock and Hatori felt his hackles rise. Kyou knew his rule that their seed was his and now he was breaking it. He growled a warning in his chest, watching as Kyou rose up. The slave scowled at him and leaned in. Hatori was intent on biting him to show his displeasure and was surprised as warm, musky fluid flowed into his mouth.

Kyou wiggled his tongue, pushing Momiji's ejaculate from his mouth into his master's. Hatori swallowed what he was given before voraciously scrubbing his lover's mouth clean with his tongue. When he allowed Kyou to pull away, he had a haughty look; Hatori made note of it and promised himself that he would punish the slave later, but for now he had something else to attend to.

Momiji whimpered as he began thrusting again, no doubt somewhat from pain. He was new to sex, after all, and Kyou and himself were pushing the boy. No matter, Hatori thought, because he wouldn't be taking that long.

It was tight and hot and wet where his cock intruded, no doubt made all the more slippery by Kyou's deviant tongue. Hatori leaned back, bracing himself, and thrust harder. Momiji's body was jarred by the impact and he moaned high and sweet. Hatori raced toward his climax, strong body tirelessly working himself in and out of the pink hole Kyou had delved into before him.

The thought of one slave rutting into the other set him off. His hips rose so hard that he momentarily thought he might unseat Momiji, who bounced like a ragdoll. With a grunt he ground upward and reached his release. He was fairly certain that if his cock weren't buried deep that he would be able to shoot the length of the boy's body, his orgasm was so strong. His hips continued to grind as he shot his load into Momiji, filling his rectum with his seed, his cock eager to plant it there. He groaned when a hand he couldn't see fondled his testicles; Kyou knew just what he liked. His cock gave a last twitch and then was spent.

Kyou gave the sac in his hand one last loving caress before releasing it and gaining his feet. He crossed the room and picked up the bowl next to the cistern, filled it from the water there, then returned to kneel on the cushions. He soaked a small cloth and, after cleaning his own manhood, dipped it again and moved to cleaning the boy, who was sticky with sweat and juice and semen. Momiji's skin shivered at the cool touch as the filth was washed from him. The blonde would still require a bath but something was better than nothing.

Kyou observed the state of the room with a scowl as he worked. "You've ruined the pillows and our clothing," he admonished his master. "Now I'll have to get them all replaced!" He dipped the cloth and wrung it out. "Would my master like for me to cleanse him as well?"
"That won't be necessary." Hatori guided Momiji off his lap, the boy taking the hint and moving to the side. Once he was clear, Hatori rocked up onto his knees. Kyou stared up at him, still scowling, but the man sensed some weakness in him. Their eyes were locked in a battle of wills for a moment before the force of Hatori's commanding presence made the slave submit. Once he had won, he pressed a hand to a tanned shoulder and shoved the slave onto his back.

The sudden movement overturned the bowls beside them, their contents spilling as they rolled across the floor. "You idiot!" Kyou shouted as cream and fruit and dirty water splashed and mingled. "You're making a mess!"

A broad hand grabbed the fire-tongued slave firmly by the jaw and crimson eyes widened. "Be silent." Hatori leaned down and crushed their lips together hard enough to bruise then bit his lover's lower lip, making Kyou whimper. "Punishment for your insolent tongue." Hatori straightened to his full height, exuding dominance over his lover. He pushed tan thighs apart then dragged the other man closer.

Kyou shivered as he fell under the sway of the dominant man, everything he was bare for his master to see. "I should see to the pillows. Maybe some of them can be saved..."

"I will buy a thousand new pillows if you will just shut up about them."

Kyou's fingers clenched. He hated feeling vulnerable. His master was erect, the very tip just peeking out of the foreskin. He hated how badly he wanted it. A hand roughly rubbed from his thigh to his hip, up his stomach and to his chest, where the fingers pulled at a nipple. Kyou shifted, legs rubbing over his master's sides. His head tilted back and he began to pant as a thumb rolled over the nub.

Hatori left off his teasing and reached for the clay jar, glad that it too hadn't spilled. His cock received another layer of lubricant and he worked his foreskin back, fully exposing the head. He looked to Kyou, who spread his legs wide in answer; the slave's cock had gone stiff again as well.

No time was wasted as he aimed for the familiar rosy hole, Kyou upturning his hips to offer himself. Hatori held the base of his erection and teased the puckered flesh with the head; the ring of muscle flexed invitingly against him, or perhaps it was greedily trying to pull him in.

He obliged the thought and pushed his way inside. Kyou tensed, fingers curling against the floor as he tried to brace himself, breath coming in short gasps. Hatori watched the head of his cock disappear to be quickly followed by the rest until the whole of it had been swallowed by the other man's body.

He didn't wait long to begin thrusting; they had coupled countless times over the years and there was no need to treat his lover with delicacy. Hatori sheathed himself again and again, studying his slave's face. Kyou's mouth had fallen open, his brow drawn down over hooded eyes as their gazes met in yet another battle of wills. Hatori wanted to hear him, for Kyou to lose himself and moan in ecstasy as he so rarely did. He lifted slim hips and gave a few searching thrusts until he hit that spot. Kyou's eyelids fluttered and Hatori detected a hint of a hitch in his breathing, but he knew the slave wouldn't give up that easily.

He thrust again, hitting his mark, and this time Kyou clamped his mouth shut with a grunt, eyes blazing defiance. Hatori wouldn't give up that easily, though, and his hips hitched back and forth in minute movements against the sensitive area. Crimson eyes went wide and Kyou's nostrils flared with short, quick breaths. Hands scrabbled at the floor as if they could find something to hold onto against the feeling and Hatori saw the slave's member twitch in the peripheral of his vision. Kyou stared at him as if for reprieve, but Hatori showed no mercy.

The slave turned his face away, admitting defeat as his eyes shut, a ragged moan clawing its way from his throat. Hatori rubbed his thumbs in circles at Kyou's waist, acknowledging how hard it was to give up control, and it seemed to soothe the slave a bit. Hatori shifted on his knees and resumed thrusting at a steady pace, ready to build his pleasure for the second time that day.

Momiji lay on the cushion, body spread out and muscles lax. He nibbled at a thumb as he watched the two men. His master may have been older, but he certainly kept himself in shape. Momiji knew firsthand the strength of that body. The lines of muscle rippled beneath his skin as he fornicated.

Kyou was good-looking too. Momiji had never dreamed that he could make such sensual noises, though. The older man was abrasive and loud; Momiji had been terrified of him at first, especially when he was told that Kyou would be in charge of him. The other slaves had spoken of Romans as cruel beings who would eagerly punish a slave, and because of his looks they had warned him that he would be taken advantage of as the people of the city were wanton and lustful.

Momiji was glad that they had been wrong. Well, maybe not about the lustful part. He smiled to himself. Hatori was a firm but kind master, both in and out of the bedroom. His touch could now set Momiji's heart to racing. His master had also been the one to tell him not to fear Kyou, to watch and listen.

He had, too, mostly because he was curious about the bond between master and slave. The others said Kyou had been with Hatori longer than anyone, that he had been captured in wartime, and that despite it he was fiercely loyal to Hatori. Over time Momiji came to realize that Kyou, while imposing and blunt, was also somehow sweet and protective. If Momiji messed up, Kyou might yell at him, but he also took time to teach him how to do it right.

The blonde bit harder at his thumb as Kyou arched and made a noise halfway between a snarl and a moan. Hatori's hands cradled Kyou by his hips, holding them up so he had better access; tan legs were splayed around his body, feet bouncing with every thrust. Momiji's body stirred at the sight.

More and more he had wanted to become close to Kyou, someone who shared his station and whom he admired, and to finally have relations with him filled Momiji with happiness. His master and Kyou were both straightforward and forceful when it came to sex. The thought of Kyou's body working between his legs, driving into him, sent a thrill of pleasure through him.

He rolled onto his belly then got on hands and knees and began to crawl to the other man. Hatori turned to look at him, hips suddenly stopping. Momiji licked his lips, suddenly nervous under that stare. "Master, may I...may I please Kyou?"

Hatori was silent for a moment. The slave beneath him stared incredulously at the little blonde and his master's lips quirked in the barest of smiles. "Use your mouth. It's only fair that you return the favour."

Momiji nodded and tentatively scooted closer, hesitantly leaning over. Crimson eyes were pinning him on the spot, making him nervous. He didn't know if he could go through with it for a moment but then a strong hand was on the back of his head, gently but firmly pushing him down until his lips were just above Kyou's length, which lay erect on his belly. Momiji detected the light scent of salt.

His tongue insinuated itself between head and stomach, lifting the cock so his lips could get hold of it. The tip slid into his mouth and his tongue went to work lapping wherever it could, especially over the foreskin hooding it. Hatori was far more interested in other things in the bedroom and this was perhaps only Momiji's third time practicing fellatio, but he so desperately wanted to please the other slave.

Kyou's nails scraped across the floor and his shoulders lifted upward as he cried out. The ministrations to his neglected cock felt wonderful, and that hot tongue was everywhere. Little noises escaped him with every panted breath. His hips bucked, body instinctively searching for more.

Momiji tensed in surprise; he hadn't expected something like that, not that it was bad. Now he had more flesh to roam. His tongue danced down the soft skin, slicking it with saliva, and Kyou seemed to appreciate it. Momiji shifted on his knees to get a better angle. He tried to take in as much as possible until his mouth was brimming with cock and his jaw ached, yet still there was more. Forcing himself to try to fit it all, he gagged and had to pull back to catch his breath. He looked to the other slave and said, "I'm sorry, Kyou. I can't get all of it in."

Kyou's heart raced. Did that little brat know what those words would do to him? Those big brown eyes stared at him so innocently, angelic pink lips glistening with saliva. "You don't have to put all of it in!" he snapped, nerves frazzled that he was letting the boy affect him so. Hatori thrust, admonishing him for his tone and he grit his teeth. "Just do what you can."

The little blonde nodded and, much to Kyou's relief, turned back to the task at hand. Kyou let out a shivering moan as his length found heat again and that tongue picked up its incessant wiggling. His hips arched upward, Hatori's length sliding out an inch; the man grunted, frowning, but Kyou didn't care. It had been so long since he had felt a warm mouth on him and his mind was going hazy. He stared up at the ceiling, limbs randomly twitching as Momiji's mouth worked on him. The tongue swirled around and around the head while a hand pumped at the base.

When his climax approached his legs wriggled, as if he could hold out a little longer, but his body had other plans. He gasped hard, squeezing his eyes shut.

Hatori put a hand under Momiji's chin and pushed him away, his other hand taking the over and pumping hard. He watched unwaveringly as Kyou's brow drew down and his head tilted back to expose his throat. His beautiful lover moaned as he ejaculated, glistening seed shooting out between his master's fingers to coat his belly.

"Kyou." Hatori made the name a command and Kyou obeyed by looking only at him. The man lifted his hand to his mouth and licked it clean under the crimson stare before placing it back on a bony hip. His fingers tightened, digging into the slave's flesh before he began to thrust again. He was rough, perhaps much too rough, but Kyou was pliant, eyes glazed with lust and desire.

Then those ripe lips fell open and words like a flowing stream, like music passed Kyou's lips as the slave began speaking in his native tongue. Hatori had not heard him speak so in years, not since they had left Caledonia. His hips were slamming home forcefully now, cock plowing into Kyou's ass, and it only made the slave's words flow faster. Hatori grunted with every powerful thrust, gaining speed as his peak approached.

"Master," Momiji said softly, almost breathlessly, lips parted.

"Master...!" Kyou echoed, voice raw.

His hips jolted in surprise at the way Kyou used his title. It was not unfamiliar for Momiji to use it so, but for Kyou...

Hatori gave a feral, guttural growl, fingers leaving bruises as he ejaculated. There was no way he could get any deeper than he already was. He unloaded for the second time that day, renewing the bond between himself and Kyou by planting his seed within his slave, giving what he could of himself.

When he had completed, he slumped forward, exhausted, coming to rest on top of Kyou's body. He lay that way for a few moments, trying to catch his breath.

The slave wriggled restlessly beneath him. "You're heavy."

Hatori ignored the comment as he breathed in the scent of their sweat and release. "I didn't know you could still speak that way."

"Neither did I," Kyou said softly. "I thought I had forgot..."


Hatori turned his head, amber eyes staring up at his younger slave. "Yes, Momiji?"

"Shall I deliver that letter now, master?"

"That can wait," Hatori rumbled. He rose languidly, body completely relaxed. "For now we will bathe."

"Together, master? That would be wonderful!"

The man tipped the blonde's chin up. "Of course, Momiji." The slave smiled beatifically.

Kyou rose without a word, frown back in place. "And have you forgotten the mess you've made that I must clean up after?"

Hatori was undeterred. "The mess can wait."

"And everything that you've ruined?"

"Will be replaced tomorrow."

"With the silk from Bassenius, not Florent," Kyou argued. "It's higher quality."

"Of course. If you scrub my back in the baths."

Momiji bit his thumb to try to keep himself from smiling too broadly as he watched the other men verbally sparring. They were both wonderful in such different ways. He was glad to be in such a place.

Kyou's nostrils flared as he huffed. "Fine, you old pervert. And twenty more pillows besides!" Hatori inclined his head to the demand.

Momiji jumped to his feet, clapping his hands together excitedly. "The baths! We'll have so much fun together, I just know it! I'll help you wash your hair, Kyou!"

The older slave scowled and shrugged, blushing and looking away to try to hide how the little blonde was affecting him. "If that's what you want, brat."

Hatori allowed himself a small smile as he watched the boy bounce and frolic around Kyou, tugging at his hand to lead him away. Truly, he was blessed.