Work Text:
When Esca first sees the Seal Prince, he is watching as Esca rolls down a hill with Marcus. The Seal People are tall long lines of painted skin wrapped in fur and leather and bone, expressions of stone.
Esca is straddling Marcus when they freeze mid-fight. The Roman’s hands still in his, and for a moment when he’s pulling away to stand up, maybe, Marcus’ fingers try to catch his.
Esca sucks in deep breaths, counting those behind him, and looks to the Seal Prince.
The prince’s eyes as he inspects Marcus turn from hard with disgust to curious. Esca watches Marcus staring down his nose at the prince as they accept Esca’s lie, glaring with his head forced back for the scar to be confirmed. Esca does not focus on the Seal Prince touching Marcus, on the painted fingers around the Roman’s throat, on how Marcus’ dark eyelashes flutter against cheek,
Esca tells himself, this is what we have to do.
Esca watches the Seal Prince, but does not focus on the way he is looking Marcus up and down, a second quick inspection that is more than a little interested and impressed. Esca tells himself, impressed with Esca and his Roman slave, impressed with Marcus’ coincidental quiet demeanor and the appearance of subjection.
The prince says, “My father would like to see such a slave,” and they’re on their way. Esca does not focus on Marcus calling his name.
They travel for a time; two days he walks with the Seal Prince and does not focus on Marcus stumbling and being dragged by the horses. They meet the chieftain, and after when the Seal People are pulling Marcus away, Esca has to force himself to remain stoic through Marcus’ desperate, “Esca! What’s happening?”
Esca hunts with the Seal People, carries his bow and runs alongside the prince. He eats and drinks with them, relishes in conversation and story and song. He enjoys it, but something in Esca’s chest wavers when he sees Marcus across the camp miserable and staring back at him.
Like now, warm and content in the main hut as the tribe interacts around him, Esca’s mood changes when Marcus slips through the flap of the entrance. Next to him, the prince sits up.
Esca follows the prince’s line of sight, and he too is watching as Marcus moves to crouch in a corner of the hut. There are shadows on Marcus’ face, and Esca blames the heady drink for the way they dance and distract.
“Your Roman,” the prince says, voice smooth and low and private, “is pleasing to look upon.”
Esca gives a polite smile. “Though, his attitude can be lacking.”
“I suspect he shows more care in his work when there are fewer to see.” The Seal Prince cants his head to the side and lifts his chin. Esca does not look away. “He is still a Roman, after all.”
The Seal Prince turns his curious gaze to Esca, dark eyes heated by mead and reflecting the light in the fire. Esca does not respond, cannot help but look towards Marcus and think, my Roman.
“Esca,” the prince whispers. He leans in when Esca returns attention. “It would be an honor if you would share the night and your slave with me.”
Esca feels an icy shock run through him, but stays his expression and says, “Yes, of course.”
“Come, friend,” the Seal Prince says, a pleased smile on his face. “I will have your Roman brought.”
The prince gets up and slips away. As Esca follows he catches Marcus’ eye and hopes he conveys a (firm) please.
In the Seal Prince’s hut, Esca decides if this was another time and he was traveling this place before his family died, before he was captured, before the arena and Marcus and the Eagle and the sick cruel fate Esca is coming to realize—then, yes, maybe, it would be an honor. They are sons of chieftains, they are warriors.
The prince is sliding palms along Esca’s flanks under his tunic and pushing the fabric up his arms and over his head. The prince presses his filled cock to Esca’s and huffs hot breath against his neck.
“There is more of you than one gets to see at first,” the prince says, and Esca can feel the outline of his smile.
Esca digs fingertips sharply into the prince’s shoulders and pushes him flat. Though Esca’s body is responding, he is losing pleasure as he thinks, no. There is no honor in this for Marcus. If they succeed in acquiring the Eagle, the Roman will still have this night to remember.
There is noise from outside and the prince licks his lips as he stares up at Esca. Esca pulls away just in time for the flap to part and someone push Marcus inside. The flap is closed with guard at their post.
Marcus lands on his hands and knees, awkwardly catching himself with a wince. He straightens immediately when he sees Esca, but falters when he glances to the prince.
Esca feels sick at the confusion and anger on Marcus’ face as it melts into fear. Marcus’ hands clench fists at his sides and he tentatively says, “Esca?”
The Seal Prince takes audible breath. “Your Roman is very pleasing to look upon. Let me see the rest of him.”
Esca stands to approach Marcus. Every step makes Esca’s stomach worse and when he’s in front of Marcus, he has to close his eyes and swallow.
Marcus looks worried, maybe for both of them. But he is more than hesitant, shying away from Esca returning to the requested task.
“Marcus,” Esca says. In Latin, “I need to you to compromise, we must do,” Esca pauses. “We must do what we need to. Please follow my lead. I will not let you be hurt.”
Marcus doesn’t respond either way, but when Esca reaches to take him by the collar of his tunic, Marcus’ eyes widen with something other than his fear and his lips part. Marcus lets Esca pull him towards the assortment of bedding skins.
The Seal Prince is reclining on his elbows. He smiles and says, “Your slave is still stubborn.”
Esca guides Marcus to kneel between him and the prince. He frees Marcus of his tunic, brushing against skin. “He is a little partial and spoiled when it comes to his master.”
The prince laughs and Marcus asks, nervous and wary, “What is being said?”
Esca shakes his head at Marcus and slips an arm around his waist from behind. In Latin to Marcus’ ear, Esca whispers, “Focus on me, or think of Rome, think of anything else but him.”
The Seal Prince shifts, rising up to get closer to Marcus. He pets an appreciative hand down Marcus’ bare chest. “Esca, my friend, he is your property. What would you have? His mouth or ass, hm?”
Esca’s stomach flips, but not entirely out of guilt. Marcus turns around in the circle of Esca’s arm, away from the prince. The Roman is searching his face desperately for any confirmation.
No, Esca thinks. He doesn’t want the Seal Prince to touch Marcus at all, to have any of Marcus. Marcus is his as much as he is Marcus’, and they will survive, they will find the Eagle.
But because this is his fate of suffering and irony, he must continue.
The Seal Prince makes a inquiring noise, hovering by Marcus’ back. “Did your slave make the decision for us?”
Esca looks at Marcus’ face and says in Latin to him, “Please, let me,” and switches back to the prince with, “I will have his mouth, my friend.”
“Esca?” Marcus whispers.
Esca tightens his grip around Marcus and pulls the Roman down on top of him. He settles Marcus between his legs, rubbing hands along his back and arms to his shoulders and neck. Esca cups Marcus’ face and kisses him.
Marcus moans into his mouth, a surprised but needy sound as he clings to Esca. Esca pushes up against him, bending his legs at the knee and locking onto him when Marcus startles at the Seal Prince’s first touch.
Esca rolls his hips against Marcus’, stealing each question and protest with another kiss. The prince has removed his pants and reaches Marcus’ before Esca can, their fingers meeting over the lacing of Marcus’ pants. Marcus shudders against Esca.
Now they are naked except Esca, but he doesn’t care as long as Marcus remains focused on him. The Roman’s eyes are closed and he’s gasping against Esca’s lips.
Marcus’ hands are trembling, but determined as they palm at Esca through the coverings. Esca bats them away and whispers, “Let me, Marcus.”
The prince is stroking himself with one hand and the back of Marcus’ thighs with the other. Esca leans up and braces Marcus’ torso across his lap, murmuring another please and sweeping a hand through the Roman’s hair.
The Seal Prince looks at Esca with a smirk curling his lips. Esca slips two fingers into his mouth and wets them as thoroughly as he can. The prince laughs as Esca reaches to trace one digit across the cleft of Marcus’ ass.
The Roman stills, chest heaving against Esca’s legs and sex. When Esca pushes inside, just one finger, Marcus hisses.
Marcus is tight and hot around him, hole unyielding until Esca works at the tender muscle. His saliva does little, but Esca fits the second finger inside and spreads them deep. He’s dragging them out to thrust in again when Marcus whimpers, “Esca!”
“Take the Roman,” Esca tells the Seal Prince.
Esca holds Marcus open, can feel the flutter of muscle and skin. There is a blunt pressure against Esca’s fingers and he slowly withdraws as the prince pushes slowly inside.
Marcus chokes on a scream to hold it back and Esca falls back to collect him in his arms. Pain and pleasure are in conflict on his face, and Esca seeks a kiss. Marcus opens up to him, lips parting and surprising Esca with a touch of tongue.
Esca echoes Marcus’ moans when he finally rocks against him. They kiss, and Esca is reaching down to find Marcus heavy and leaking between them.
“Oh, please,” Marcus whispers. “Touch me.”
“I’ve got you,” Esca says in Latin. “Let me.”
The Seal Prince’s thrusts are pushing Marcus against Esca, and the two of them clutch at each and find their own way. Esca is pumping Marcus’ cock, letting the Roman fuck into his grip.
Marcus gasps for air against Esca’s cheek. “Esca, I can’t...”
And then Marcus is crying out, twisting; Esca remembers the Seal Prince when he lets out a long groan in response. Marcus is coming over his fingers, sex pulsing in his grip.
“Yes,” Esca tells Marcus. He repeats, “I’ve got you.”