Spartacus (The White Stone Version), Sabinus/Castus and others
Castus finds him, at the ship’s stern (and why don’t they call it the back of the ship anyway, Sabinus thinks) as the night finally starts to cool. “Your thoughts seem heavy tonight,” he says, leaning his shoulder against Sabinus’ arm. “Might I help you lighten them?”
Sabinus looks at the familiar face beside him. His eyes gleam in the darkness, his skin still glistening from the exertions of the day, a purple wine stain on his full lips. Earlier they were smiling; now they hold such concern that Sabinus shakes his head. “I would not burden you with them.”
Castus is silent for a few minutes. At last he says, “Belesa told me you struggled today. The sails are not an easy task.” “They are not,” Sabinus agrees.
“Tomorrow will be better.”
“How do you know?” Sabinus wants it to be true, but he needs Castus to convince him.
“Because you are a Roman who found his place among slaves, and stood beside them with honour. If you can manage that, then you can accomplish anything. Also,” he adds, his smile widening, “because we have a berth below where I will teach you to move with the waves.”
Castus leads Sabinus below deck where he has claimed a small enclave, secreted away behind a purple drape. The space is not large--Sabinus can recline but his feet touch the wall--but it is their own. He pulls Castus close, pushing the vest from his shoulders and grasping the warm skin beneath. Castus sheds his clothes, pausing for just a moment to grab a vial of oil from his pocket. He straddles Sabinus, gazing down at him with such need that Sabinus catches his breath. Castus lowers himself as Sabinus surges forward, and they both move with the rolling waves.