Author's Note: This show is horribly violent, but I couldn't help but adore Varro. Set during "Blood and Sand", after the Pit and before the fight with Theokoles. Warning: adultery.
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Spartacus had never been a man with many friends, not even before he’d become Spartacus. The men he had run with as a youth, fighting, gambling and chasing women, had not been the kind he’d cared to be around once he’d met Sura. He had need of no other then, until it had all been torn away by Glaber. It had come as a great surprise then to find himself keeping company with curly-haired Varro, who somehow managed to reach Spartacus even as he thought himself lost.
The bonds between him and the ever-cheerful Roman were forged not only in the blood, sweat and tears shed on the sands of the training ground but in the love for their wives, setting them apart from the other men in the ludus. Without Varro’s good sense Spartacus felt sure he would not have survived those first weeks of madness. Once he regained his place on the sands, Spartacus knew he could trust Varro with his life, their friendship was cemented.
He was not quite sure how he himself had deserved Varro’s unswerving loyalty, but for all that his friend seemed an open book, there was much to him that lay hidden, out of sight, and his reasons were his own. Yet there was no doubt that he cared for Spartacus, and they spent many a quiet hour talking about love and life - and death, the ever-present companion of a gladiator. Still, nothing had prepared Spartacus for the moment one night in the bath, everyone else asleep in their cells, when Varro’s hand suddenly moved to cover Spartacus’ cock.
He was half-hard from talk and thought of Sura, not an uncommon occurrence but usually ignored, and the unexpected warmth of another’s flesh made him surge upwards before his mind could catch up with his body. He stared at Varro in shock, but his friend only smiled and said: “Neither one of us wants other women, but there is no shame in our bodies’ needs. Let me help you with yours, friend, even if it is only to allow me to touch the only person I give a shit about in this hole, giving pleasure instead of pain for a change.”
Still he waited, his hand resting on Spartacus’ stirring flesh, his clear eyes meeting Spartacus’ confused gaze calmly. Finally Spartacus nodded and managed a smile: “It is not uncommon in Thrace for sword-brothers to lie together, although it has been years since I last had occasion to do so. I must admit, the thought appeals - but only if you allow me the same privilege.”
At this Varro smirked and grabbed Spartacus’ head with his free hand, pulling him into a rough kiss, barely more than a hard press of lips and a promise. “I’d be all kinds of a fool if I rejected your offer, Spartacus.” His dirty grin turned soft for a moment, and he added: “Somehow I don’t think either of our wives would begrudge us this comfort.”
Spartacus laughed, desire now running free through his veins, and tangled his hands in Varro’s curls, pushing the other man to the floor with the weight of his body. “No, indeed. Sura has always been devoid of jealousy, she knows nothing can lead my heart astray.”
Then he ground his hips down and kissed Varro again, mutual hunger igniting between them, and no more words were spoken. The only noise were grunts of pleasure and the scraping sound of their bodies moving together in a rough, satisfying rhythm on the flagstones of the bath. It was another kind of battle, one in which there was no loser, as they rolled over and over, pushing and pulling, swallowing each other’s gasps with hungry kisses.
All too soon Spartacus let out one last, drawn-out groan and spilled over Varro’s hand. Their movements ceased for a moment while he rested his head against Varro’s shoulder, lips forming a smile against his friend’s skin. Then he levered himself off Varro’s body until he lay on his side, and, scooping up some of his own seed, wrapped his own fingers, sword-calloused and certain, around Varro’s hard cock, already weeping with the approach of climax. Varro’s head fell backwards and he came apart under Spartacus’ skilled ministrations and quiet, watchful eyes, warmth spreading through Spartacus’ satisfied body at the rough beauty of the sight before him.
Afterwards, Spartacus leaned over for one more kiss, which was contentedly and lazily returned, before lying back against the warm stone, his right arm touching Varro’s left, their uneven breaths filling the air until they turned their heads almost simultaneously and looked at each other. The two men started chuckling, neither one sure who had started it but unable to stop themselves from laughing out loud, both feeling simultaneously elated and slightly disbelieving over what had just happened.
“Fuck, I have sand in places where there should be none,” Spartacus finally managed to get out, his fist against Varro’s shoulder more a caress than anything else. “Your idea was good but possibly lacking somewhat in execution, my friend, as we now require another bath and there are already too few hours until we need to be awake to train again.”
Varro pushed himself to his feet and offered Spartacus a hand. “Well, if you’d rather have slept…” With a mischievous grin he pulled too hard, and Spartacus landed in the water with a splash and a surprised curse. “Next time we’ll know better,” he added, still grinning, and jumped in after his friend.
Spartacus, unexpectedly pleased by this casual promise of another encounter, could do nothing but sputter and laugh in agreement: “And next time, we might make a better showing of it, not like two green boys who’d never had a woman.”
“Who you’re calling green?” Varro mock-scowled, pushing Spartacus underwater, and for a while they wrestled just like the boys Spartacus had called them, their hearts for once light and comforted by one another’s company.
Later, back in their cell and trying to get some rest before another hard day at the ludus began, Spartacus felt his friend’s familiar warmth against his back and could not suppress a smile. He had never had many friends, and certainly none like Varro. And, unlike the companions of his youth, Spartacus was fairly certain that Sura would approve of this one.
***
End Note: I did actually do some internet research to find out whether a Thracian would have had any problems with sex between men. Not proof in the least, but apparently there's a quite popular myth about Orpheus bringing homosexuality (or more specifically, pederasty) to Thrace - with so much success that the Thracian women ended up killing him. 🙂 More historically speaking, it seems not too far-fetched to assume that it was common (or at least not taboo), considering that the region the Greeks called Thrace bordered on Macedon, home of Alexander the Great, where it was certainly practiced.
