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OOM Going home.
Sep. 28th, 2015 11:06 amSinric danced as long as and as prettily as the energy drink would allow him, trying to laugh and smile with a joy he didn’t feel. Feeling himself tire, he fell artfully across the cushions at Constantine’s feet.
The Emperor, in deep conversation with the one of the ambassador’s clerks, reached down to pull Sinric up into his lap, resting boy’s golden head against his shoulder. The clerk, an educated man far more interesting than the ambassador himself seemed to ignore the little eunuch, continuing to argue the point of theology they had been debating. Few people dared to argue such things with Constantine whose stance on iconoclasm was well known and at odds with the princes of the church.
Sinric could see flaws in the man’s arguments but didn’t speak up, just rested in his lover’s arms, being fed little bites of fruit from the Emperor’s fingers. The days of sadness and the evening of keeping the mask up had exhausted him.
“I fear my lord, we are boring your-” The man cut himself off, unsure how to refer to the boy.
Constantine chuckled and stroked Sinric’s long hair. “Are we boring you, my lovely boy? You’re not usually one to keep silent in a conversation like this. My Aureus is well read and well spoken. Most of my Birds are.” It was a brag and an affectionate one.
“Forgive me, my lord.” Sinric yawned. “The Frankish wine was rather stronger than I expected.” It didn’t hurt to stroke the Frankish ego a little.
Constantine kissed the top of his head. “Sweet boy. Luka is all but asleep already too.” He nodded across the room where the youngest of the Birds was dozing in a corner with the Princess Anthousa. “Take him to his bed then wait for me in my chambers.” He smiled indulgently. “You need not stay awake. I will come, by and by.” He bent to capture Sinric is a slow, deep kiss.
Castor fell in at Sinric’s side as Sinric lifted Luka and carried him to the golden cage. “You seem off kilter. Is anything wrong?” He bent to take the sleeping boy from Sinric’s arms. “I’ve never seen you become so quiet and tired so fast.”
“The wine was strong.” Sinric explained, attempting to shrug off the guard’s observations. “And the last draft was too bitter.”
“And yet, you’re not drunk now.” Castor’s too sharp comment comes back.
Sinric shook his head and turned back Luka’s cote, taking the boy from Castor. “No, now I am ill. I hope our lord is in no great hurry to have me. I think I may need to empty my stomach before I will be of any use to him.”
Castor gave him a long piecing look. “Shall I have the physician come to you?”
“I’m fine.” He promised, stripping the boy’s clothes and helping him into his night clothes. With Luka comfortably tucked in, Sinric took the time to change himself, shedding the collar of stars for a flowing robe of yellow silk.
Castor fell in at his side again, acting as Sinric’s shadow. “Aureus, you can confide in me, you know?” He said gently, his hand on the youth’s shoulder as they entered the Emperor’s chambers. “You can trust me.”
Sinric turned to look up at him, forcing a smile. “I know. And I want to, very much. There is much I long to tell someone, someone who will not think me mad.” He lowered his eyes. “But now is not time. I hope you will forgive me.”
Castor cupped Sinric’s shoulders lightly. “When you’re ready, Aureus. I will listen.” He turned to leave but Sinric stopped him, a hand on his arm.
“Sinric.” He whispered softly. “Aureus is my court name, the name my lord chooses to give me. The name I was bought with was Sinric. That’s my real name.”
Castor stilled, looking down at the delicate youth. “Sinric.” He whispered softly. “I’m very glad to know you.” He gently touched Sinric’s cheek and turned to guard the door.
Sinric was swift in cleansing himself, making good use of Emperor’s hot bath and the little tube of toothpaste he had stashed in the sleeve of his robe. He dried his hair and stretches out on the bed, meaning to stay awake till his emperor returned.
But many days of sadness and worry weighted heavy and he slipped into a deep sleep.
He woke only slightly as the bed beside him dipped and Constantine pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “My lord?” It came out as a soft moan, his eyes still closed. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know it was his beloved emperor. Since the night he had returned to the palace, still bearing the marks Leo left on him, Sinric had rarely slept anywhere in the palace but in his Emperor’s bed, in his Emperor’s arms. Everything about Constantine – his scent, his skin, his touch was as familiar to him as his own heartbeat.
It don’t trouble him as Constantine slid in behind him, the wiry hair of his chest brushing against Sinric’s shoulder, his broad, strong hands moving over Sinric’s hip. On instinct, Sinric rolled onto his stomach a little, opening himself to his emperor as Constantine entered him.
It felt like being complete, like being made whole. He reached back to pull Constantine’s arm around him, losing himself in the feeling of home.
Six months more. He had six more months of this, of being with his first and eternal lover. And he didn’t want to waste a second of it.
The Emperor, in deep conversation with the one of the ambassador’s clerks, reached down to pull Sinric up into his lap, resting boy’s golden head against his shoulder. The clerk, an educated man far more interesting than the ambassador himself seemed to ignore the little eunuch, continuing to argue the point of theology they had been debating. Few people dared to argue such things with Constantine whose stance on iconoclasm was well known and at odds with the princes of the church.
Sinric could see flaws in the man’s arguments but didn’t speak up, just rested in his lover’s arms, being fed little bites of fruit from the Emperor’s fingers. The days of sadness and the evening of keeping the mask up had exhausted him.
“I fear my lord, we are boring your-” The man cut himself off, unsure how to refer to the boy.
Constantine chuckled and stroked Sinric’s long hair. “Are we boring you, my lovely boy? You’re not usually one to keep silent in a conversation like this. My Aureus is well read and well spoken. Most of my Birds are.” It was a brag and an affectionate one.
“Forgive me, my lord.” Sinric yawned. “The Frankish wine was rather stronger than I expected.” It didn’t hurt to stroke the Frankish ego a little.
Constantine kissed the top of his head. “Sweet boy. Luka is all but asleep already too.” He nodded across the room where the youngest of the Birds was dozing in a corner with the Princess Anthousa. “Take him to his bed then wait for me in my chambers.” He smiled indulgently. “You need not stay awake. I will come, by and by.” He bent to capture Sinric is a slow, deep kiss.
Castor fell in at Sinric’s side as Sinric lifted Luka and carried him to the golden cage. “You seem off kilter. Is anything wrong?” He bent to take the sleeping boy from Sinric’s arms. “I’ve never seen you become so quiet and tired so fast.”
“The wine was strong.” Sinric explained, attempting to shrug off the guard’s observations. “And the last draft was too bitter.”
“And yet, you’re not drunk now.” Castor’s too sharp comment comes back.
Sinric shook his head and turned back Luka’s cote, taking the boy from Castor. “No, now I am ill. I hope our lord is in no great hurry to have me. I think I may need to empty my stomach before I will be of any use to him.”
Castor gave him a long piecing look. “Shall I have the physician come to you?”
“I’m fine.” He promised, stripping the boy’s clothes and helping him into his night clothes. With Luka comfortably tucked in, Sinric took the time to change himself, shedding the collar of stars for a flowing robe of yellow silk.
Castor fell in at his side again, acting as Sinric’s shadow. “Aureus, you can confide in me, you know?” He said gently, his hand on the youth’s shoulder as they entered the Emperor’s chambers. “You can trust me.”
Sinric turned to look up at him, forcing a smile. “I know. And I want to, very much. There is much I long to tell someone, someone who will not think me mad.” He lowered his eyes. “But now is not time. I hope you will forgive me.”
Castor cupped Sinric’s shoulders lightly. “When you’re ready, Aureus. I will listen.” He turned to leave but Sinric stopped him, a hand on his arm.
“Sinric.” He whispered softly. “Aureus is my court name, the name my lord chooses to give me. The name I was bought with was Sinric. That’s my real name.”
Castor stilled, looking down at the delicate youth. “Sinric.” He whispered softly. “I’m very glad to know you.” He gently touched Sinric’s cheek and turned to guard the door.
Sinric was swift in cleansing himself, making good use of Emperor’s hot bath and the little tube of toothpaste he had stashed in the sleeve of his robe. He dried his hair and stretches out on the bed, meaning to stay awake till his emperor returned.
But many days of sadness and worry weighted heavy and he slipped into a deep sleep.
He woke only slightly as the bed beside him dipped and Constantine pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “My lord?” It came out as a soft moan, his eyes still closed. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know it was his beloved emperor. Since the night he had returned to the palace, still bearing the marks Leo left on him, Sinric had rarely slept anywhere in the palace but in his Emperor’s bed, in his Emperor’s arms. Everything about Constantine – his scent, his skin, his touch was as familiar to him as his own heartbeat.
It don’t trouble him as Constantine slid in behind him, the wiry hair of his chest brushing against Sinric’s shoulder, his broad, strong hands moving over Sinric’s hip. On instinct, Sinric rolled onto his stomach a little, opening himself to his emperor as Constantine entered him.
It felt like being complete, like being made whole. He reached back to pull Constantine’s arm around him, losing himself in the feeling of home.
Six months more. He had six more months of this, of being with his first and eternal lover. And he didn’t want to waste a second of it.
