Warnings: Angst, public sex.
Author's Note: Another fic, because I'm stuck on the couch with a nasty case of lumbago. Set during “Separate Paths” (3x08). Title blatantly stolen, with apologies to Mr. Hemingway.
***
When Agron conveyed his decision to join with Crixus and leave Nasir behind, every trace of the discord that had weighed on their relationship in recent weeks disappeared as if it had never been, wiped away by the tears glistening in Agron’s eyes and the stricken look on Nasir’s face.
Nasir could feel his heart breaking, but he could muster no anger, not when Agron clung to him like a man drowning, his embrace so tight it hurt. Yet Nasir did not heed the discomfort, even welcomed it as a pale shade of the pain taking up residence inside his very soul. He held the German in his arms, face buried against his neck, breathing in the familiar scent in large gulps between sobs that kept escaping his lips despite all efforts to the contrary. They stood like this for what felt like forever, an island of quiet grief in the sea of celebration surrounding them. Neither one was fool enough to believe they would set eyes on each other again in this world.
If he had believed it to be of any use, Nasir would have raged and railed against Agron’s misguided sense of honour, would have tried to beat sense into the thick German skull, but as it was he did not want to waste a single moment of time they yet had together. Finally he tore himself away and put on his best smile, aware that it was watery and uncertain. He cradled Agron’s head in both hands, at a height for a change because of the step he was standing on, and said with forced levity: “If this is how it must be, I would make the most of this night. I would be one with you once more before dawn tears us apart.”
Agron leaned close and rested forehead against forehead, his smile no more convincing than Nasir’s: “Only once? You lack ambition - I say we can manage more than that!”
In spite of himself a small laugh escaped Nasir, and he pressed a lingering kiss to Agron’s lips, storing up the sensation so it might last him the rest of his life. He pushed away the thought of how few hours they had left and focused on the moment. Seemingly in agreement, Agron deepened the kiss, and slowly bittersweet tenderness was replaced with something fiercer, the fire between them, never far from the surface, roaring to life. Nasir allowed himself to be swept away, passion banishing sad thoughts from his mind for the time being.
Mirroring the single-mindedness with which his tongue licked deep into Nasir’s mouth, Agron pushed the Syrian against the wall behind them, and Nasir complied eagerly, their bodies slotting together, mouth to mouth, chest to chest, cock to cock. Both of them were hardening quickly, hips beginning to slide against one another while they kept their mouths fused together, as if they wanted to share even their breath.
There was desperation underpinning it all, lending lust a flavour of urgency, and Nasir took Agron’s lower lip between his teeth and bit down, swallowing the hiss of pain it elicited along with the coppery tang of blood. Agron reciprocated by tearing his mouth away in order to leave angry marks along Nasir’s neck, making him shudder and gasp. Even when fucking each other senseless, their love-making usually tended towards the playful and gentle, but there was hardly a trace of that now, sword-calloused fingers tearing at clothes, letting them fall unheeded to the floor as they returned to the exchange of increasingly clumsy kisses. Nasir’s fingers dug into Agron’s ass, bared for all to see, urging him to thrust upwards and against his own hard flesh, ignoring the pain of his unprotected back scraping along the wall.
Suddenly Agron stopped moving, and Nasir could hear himself mewl in protest, until a quick, incongruously gentle kiss to his forehead calmed his racing heart somewhat, allowing mind and eyes to focus on the reason for the interruption. Agron was still crowding him against the wall, but he had turned his head in order to look at Saxa, who had appeared at their side unnoticed by either party. Nasir’s breath caught at the wildness etched into Agron’s features, his grin more a baring of teeth as he accepted the bottle Saxa was offering him, with a dirty laugh and some words in German that Nasir needed no translation for.
“Gratitude,” he managed to gasp, and the sound was enough to make Agron’s head whip back around to him. The intensity in those light eyes made him shiver, and if Saxa offered reply neither Nasir nor Agron paid heed to it, their attentions once more fixed solely on each other. With a low growl Agron re-captured Nasir’s mouth for another deep kiss, before resting his head against the Syrian’s heaving shoulder as they caught their breaths while Agron fumbled with the bottle. Impatient, Nasir took the oil from his lover, opened it with his teeth and spit out the cork, before coating Agron’s hand and cock in the liquid and dropping it to the floor, instantly forgotten. He slung one leg around Agron’s hip, opening himself to the touch of slippery fingers, clumsy at first but soon sliding into his body with decisive force.
Nasir’s head fell back against the wall with a dull thud, the pain counterpoint to the burn of Agron stretching him, the sensation welcome as it made the haze of passion recede somewhat. He wanted to last until Agron was fucking him, wanted to feel the German spill deep into his body, and Agron seemed to feel the same, foregoing much of his usual thorough preparations in favour of hefting Nasir up and sliding home without hesitation. As the blunt head of Agron’s cock breached him, Nasir’s focus narrowed to the point where their bodies joined, and he grasped at Agron’s broad shoulders, angling himself so every thrust of narrow hips hit him in just the right spot.
The muscles under Nasir’s hands were taut with effort, but Agron did not appear to notice, glancing down along their shuddering bodies before wresting his gaze up to rest on Nasir’s face with single-minded intent. When their eyes locked, Nasir felt himself caught, spell-bound by the look of near-worship on Agron’s face, and it made something deep inside of him twist and break open, leaving him with similarly naked emotion plainly written on his features.
Although they were both approaching their peaks, their movements slowed until they were merely rocking back and forth, unbearable tenderness stretching between them. Nasir’s throat closed up, and with what was almost a sob he caught Agron’s half-open mouth with his own, hungry and deep, needing to break the moment or risk breaking himself.
His eyes falling shut the German’s whole body shuddered and tensed, then Agron resumed fucking Nasir in earnest. Welcoming the force with which he was being taken, the Syrian held on for dear life while Agron’s movements became increasingly erratic, his thrusts more shallow and quick as he lost control and finally came, pouring himself deep into Nasir.
They remained stock still for a time, like flies trapped in amber, but all too soon Agron’s softening cock slipped from Nasir’s body and the Syrian regained his footing, although his legs trembled and he had to clutch Agron's shoulders for balance. Hands that were used to deal out death slid impossibly gently over Nasir’s cheeks, which were wet with tears that had escaped unnoticed, and the look in Agron’s eyes was one Nasir would never forget.
With a sudden shake of his head Agron dropped to his knees and swallowed Nasir’s leaking cock, which had been forgotten for a moment, his hands roaming over every bit of skin they could reach. Even as he was quickly coaxed towards completion Nasir kept his gaze fixed on the man in front of him, wanting to memorise every line of his lover's face and body. Then a finger slid back into his still-slick opening, and Nasir became unable to focus on anything but the cresting waves of pleasure racking his body. He spilled into Agron’s mouth, and despite his usual dislike of the taste, the German swallowed willingly, even eagerly, before gently releasing Nasir’s cock from its warm sheath.
Closing his eyes, Agron remained on his knees for a while longer, arms wrapped around Nasir’s slim hips, his head resting against the well-muscled stomach, while the Syrian’s fingers combed through his hair with infinite tenderness. Finally it became impossible to ignore their surroundings, and although Nasir could not bring himself to care overmuch that they had provided a spectacle, he helped Agron back to his feet. Someone in the background made a rude comment about switched positions, but for once the German did not seem to notice or care.
Instead Nasir found himself being pulled into another kiss, tasting himself on Agron’s tongue. When they broke apart, Nasir began looking around for their so unceremoniously shed clothes, always more conscious of nudity than the gladiator, but paused when he met Agron’s eyes. They exchanged wry smiles, and Nasir had to suppress the thought that there would be no more moments like this, when their minds spoke without words. He forced himself to grin: “Well, that was once. Maybe for the second round we retreat somewhere without quite so many spectators?”
The amusement on Agron’s face was almost genuine, only a trace of sadness lingering at the back of those impossibly green eyes: “As you wish, little man. Tonight we shall do whatever you want.”
Nasir’s heart clenched painfully and, to distract them both, he threw a bundle of clothes at his naked lover with more force than necessary: “What did I tell you about calling me by that name?” He paused to wrap at least his undergarment around himself, then smirked up at the German, who was watching him intently, as if memorising every movement. “Also, do we not always do what I want, my big, strong gladiator?”
“There you have the right of it. I am yours to command, now as always.” A real, genuine laugh rumbled through Agron’s chest, but Nasir had to turn his head and blink away sudden tears. Anger and grief welled up in him unbidden, because Agron’s teasing statement had proven itself so completely a falsehood. There was but one thing Nasir truly wanted - and it was the one thing Agron had taken away.
Swallowing hard, Nasir put on a mask he had thought left in a Roman villa, many leagues and months away, and smiled lightly at Agron, even as his insides twisted in pain: “In that case go find those you want to bid farewell to, because the rest of the night I claim for myself.”
If Agron could see through the smile to the anguish beneath, he chose not to show it, kissing Nasir with a promise of more to follow. Nasir shivered, suddenly exhausted and cold to the bone. Agron wanted him to live, so live he would - but looking after his lover’s tall form disappearing into the crowd, Nasir knew that a part of himself was dead already.
***
End Note: I swear, the next fic I finish will NOT be Agron and Nasir in public against a wall... I'm starting to feel like a stuck record. 🙂
