1. Legion


    Date: 9/15/2015, Categories: Historical, Author: Lupus, Rating: , Source: LushStories

    43 AD. Britannia. While gazing at the flickering lantern beside him, Legate Vespasian shuddered, though not from the cold. He glanced down to watch the slender, pale fingers of another’s hand trail down his scarred, olive skin and slither beneath the silk sheets that draped across him. The tender fingers encircled his now-limp shaft and gently stroked another shudder from his weary body. Rolling over, into a bundle of red hair, he stared into his companion’s green, enchanting eyes. Undeterred, her fingers still strummed across his length, enticing quivers from his slumbering manhood. ‘How did I get here?’ He wondered to himself. *** The hill-top inferno was visible for miles around; a glowing beacon through the abyss of night. The sounds of screams; crackling fire and the breaking of groaning timbers were unmistakable from the opposite hill, a mile or so away. This is where Vespasian sat astride his steed, his calloused hands soothing the horse’s long mane. The surrounding woodlands were almost alive with the echoes, which rang through the otherwise eerie silence. His horse whinnied, turning and trotting on the spot, its nose held high. Vespasian stroked the stallion’s long neck and whispered a soothing song in its ear, unable to tear his eyes away from the blazing fort. His horse had seen him through many years of conquest; no doubt it was tuned into his own unease by now, Vespasian thought. The thunder of approaching hooves forced the Legate and his assembled party from ...
    their reverie. The clearing suddenly rippled with the drawing of swords and shuffling hooves as all turned, alert to the stranger. From the trees sprang a lithe young horse, carrying an even younger looking messenger boy. Garbed in Roman light armour, emblazoned with the Capricorn of Vespasian’s Second Legion, he rode directly towards Vespasian himself. “Sir, the tribunes report the fort is ours! It is taken, sir!” The party remained silent until the Legate let out a chuckle. At once, the assembled group broke out in sympathetic, sycophantic titters. “Yes, I can see that, boy.” The Legate turned and stared at the blazing beacon, almost sure he could feel the heat of the flames against his face. “At least, what’s left of the place. Give it another hour or so and I fear our latest possession will be nothing but ash.” The group chuckled in time with their leader, awaiting his orders like an excited pack of dogs. “Let us approach the town, shall we? We should see this great fortress of resistance, before it’s completely destroyed.” Vespasian whipped the reins of his loyal stallion and charged down the hill. Behind him, the hillside erupted with the sound of beating hooves and neighing mares as his entourage gave panicked chase. The evening air was cool against his flushed cheeks, compared to the warmth of Rome’s climate, but Vespasian knew that the weather was on his side. Crashing through the undergrowth, he could smell the spring flowers smashed aside by his galloping steed and ...
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