Gladiator: Maximus/Commodus
Title:  Decipere
Author:  Nicole S.
Rating:  NC-17 for graphic sexual situations.

Archive :  Den of Sin, CKOS, and wherever Gladiator fic is held

Send feedback to nicxf@softhome.net

webpage: http://members.tripod.com/Nic-S

Spoilers: the movie

Disclaimer: Dreamworks, Universal and a bunch of other companies and people own these
characters, I'm just playing with them for a while.  Don't even bother to sue, I owe my soul to
student loans.

Summary:  Commodus reflects on the incidents that led to his and Maximus' animosity toward each
other.

Warning - graphic depictions of both m/f and m/m sex here.  Although this story is most
certainly slash, if this isn't your bag move on.  Commodus is a twisted bastard in the movie,
and I've carried that attitude to this story. 

Comments:  Don't leave home without a beta!  Awesome Beta by the lovely Jennifer.  In case
you're not familiar with it, the double slashes // mean thought.  For those on
MaximumGladiators - here's the smut you ordered (it's a little late, however).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Decipere  by Nicole S.
(6/2000)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day was gloomy and dark, the sky rife with heavy grey clouds.  Snow would certainly fall
before night fell.  The cold wind cut through the Praetorian Guard's cloaks and armour, yet
none complained, as this was their duty.  With ears alert and eyes scanning the woods, they
were ready to protect the procession of coaches filled with royalty, senators and other
dignitaries.  The wind suddenly gusted a bitter cold, causing the guards, archers and scouts to
lean a little closer to their horses to keep warm.

The caravan they protected was led by an armoured royal coach, slowly trundling along the
cobbled road, swaying like a fat lazy armadillo, leading the others through Germania to Marcus
Aurelius, who had sent for them all.  Inside the royal vessel, oblivious to the guard's
discomfort sat Commodus and Lucilla, replete in luxury of furs and silk lined cloaks to keep
them warm.  The cold of Germania was so intense, however, that it even penetrated their
splendid coach, and the furs were piled thick on top each other.

Commodus sighed with boredom; this trip was taking too long.  He didn't want to be here in
Germania, from what he had seen it was an ugly, cold place filled with heathens and black mud
and forests as far as the eyes could see.  He missed the sun and warmth of Rome desperately.
He also missed his usual routine, his activities, his lovers, and nights alone with Lucilla
playing games of wit and talking until the early morning.  In this coach, it was like being
held prisoner in a cell. 

With little to do, the only activity to keep him amused was to watch his sister sleep, which
she somehow managed to do frequently during this awful journey.  As long as Commodus could
remember, he had done this.  He often watched her when the night terrors overcame him and would
not let him rest.  He'd steal into her rooms and just look at her for hours and hours, feeling
secure among the dark shadows because she was there.  She was the only person who could make
him feel safe.  Sometimes Lucius would be with her, giving Commodus the added bonus of
observing the young boy as well.  He had his mother's looks, and slept just as sound.
Sometimes it was if he was still in her womb, their breaths coming at the same time.

The wagon lurched, waking Lucilla for an instant.  Her hazel eyes opened slightly, but closed
again quickly.  She moaned quietly and a frown crossed her face, but then with a sigh, she
relented to the slumber that claimed her again.  Her face snuggled into her furs, Commodus
marveled at the soft fringe of eyelashes resting on her cheek that quivered with every breath.
He envied the way she could sleep in this shaking, swaying coach; he could not.

Restlessness suddenly overcoming him, Commodus stretched then stood.  They had been on the road
nearly two weeks and were almost at their destination in Germania.  They had almost reached
their father, who had sent for the people in their party, as word was he was dying.  Commodus
was certain the real reason he and Lucilla were being summoned was to pass the crown on to him.
It had to be for that very reason, as his father hadn't been home in years, and wouldn't
suddenly become sentimental.

Marcus Aurelius was a great leader; Commodus would never dispute that fact.  But as a father,
there was much strain between the two men.  His father preferred to travel with his army and
fight battles far and away, which suited Commodus just the same.  He never argued that his
father was away from home so often, as without the Emperor's presence and disapproving eye, he
could do what he pleased.

The wagon jolted again, making him shift his stance as it moved down the roman road, the
clamping of horse's hooves on the cobblestones a soothing staccato to his ears.  He looked at
Lucilla; she stirred but settled down again quickly.  Through the tiny window in the coach, he
could see the trees of the Black Forest, their thick trunks rising high into the sky, blotting
out the mostly obscured, distant sun.  He shivered, and pulled his furs around him more
tightly.

He cursed this cold land of barbarians that his father insisted on fighting for.  It was
freezing, and muddy, and couldn't possibly yield anything of value.  Yet, it was for the good
of Rome.  The good of Rome with all her splendour and power.  Power he would certainly wield in
a matter of days.  A sly smile crossed his face as he thought of what beheld him.  The power of
the people, the power of the army; no one would challenge Rome, lest he send his troops to cut
them down.  Yes, he would have that, but wars didn't excite him as much as other things.

Twice a day, Commodus sparred with his Guards, honed his swordsmanship, and practiced until his
moves were perfection.  Any Praetorian Guard, any soldier, any gladiator would be an even match
for him.  Commodus joined in mock battles while the soldiers trained, and on many occasions he
was the last man standing.  He trained twice as hard and gave twice the effort, and was
confident that if ever challenged, he could beat any of them.

He stretched again, groaning as he did, his muscles were stiff from being inside the coach for
so long.  He longed to escape the confines of the vessel and hone his sword skills, and wished
the caravan would stop, even for a little while so he could practice.

The result of this training was a well-muscled body, hard yet smooth, like the marble statue
gods that adorned his living quarters.  He even equated himself with a roman god, and once he
was emperor, the people would worship him as if he was one.

He wanted excitement; he wanted to prove his worthiness as a swordsman and fighter in front of
everyone.  He wanted the games.  His father had banned the games, saying it was a waste, that
it was not benefiting the people.  Commodus thought his father spent too much time writing his
thoughts into books that no one would read.  He knew what people wanted, and that was a
spectacle.  He'd argued with his father that the games were needed, that the people demanded
them, but his pleas fell on deaf ears.  Commodus longed for the sounds and sights that would
assail his senses, the clang of swords, the roars of the beasts and the red flashes of blood as
they pumped from a bodies of the slain animals and people in the ring...

He smiled at the trees outside the window.  Yes, the sound a man made as the last gasp of
breath left his body as he collapsed to the ground; that was what brought the crowds to the
games.

When the games had been on, he'd attended them every day, and when his father had banned them,
he sought them out in the far-flung Roman provinces.  The small band of praetorians stationed
at the outreaches had little influence, and the games went on.  While the outer provinces had
spectacles on a small scale, they were indeed still amazing.

Beasts ripped apart Christians, beasts fought beasts, and men fought men.  It was all Commodus
could do not to jump over the wall and fight.  He longed for it.  He could almost feel the
excited sweat cover his body, taste the grit and dust in his mouth, smell the other man's fear
and the blood spilled by others.  He had told this to Lucilla who had forbade him to even think
about fighting.  She had gotten incredibly upset, and vowed never to travel with him again if
he did.  He'd almost ignored her and went anyway, but his love for his sister outweighed his
desire to be champion in the ring, so he settled for sparring with his praetorian guards
instead.  It was a poor substitute, but the longing made him train harder.

When he became Emperor, he'd have the biggest spectacle ever.  He'd hold the games longer, have
more beasts, and stage more elaborate battles than anyone before him.  And then he'd get into
the ring and win.

// I will give them a spectacle.  I will give them the biggest and best games they have ever
seen.//

Soon would come the time when the entire coliseum would shout his name in adoration.  The
people would chant 'Commodus', the Senators would respect him and his laws, and the army would
obey him.  It would be a whole new Rome.  Everyone would love and be loyal to Commodus.

// Commodus the loved.//

He already had most of the senators on his side, and with their influence, they would surely
sway those who weren't.  The people would follow, and then he would dissolve the senate and
rule Rome himself.  The army was loyal to Rome and Rome's leader, and they would be loyal to
him.

// Even Maximus.//

Maximus.  The name slithered through Commodus' head like a worm through the soft flesh of an
apple.  Once that name had evoked longing and passion, but now it just left a bitter taste in
his mouth.  Commodus' posture stiffened, and he braced himself against the wall of the coach.
The darkness outside the small window matched the darkness that coursed through him with the
thought of that name.

That name was the reason he'd been having vexing thoughts ever since his father had sent for
him and his sister.  Commodus had an unsettled feeling in his stomach, something he never
usually had, which disturbed him even more.

He knew Maximus was always at his father's side, receiving praise that should have been
destined for him, and when they arrived at the front, he would have no choice but to see
Maximus.  And Maximus would have no choice but to see Commodus.  

Commodus licked his lips and pressed them together.  He told himself he was not nervous, that
he did not care what Maximus thought of him.  He had spent too much time grooming himself for
the throne to be concerned about the General and their past incident.  He was heir to the
empire, and this trip was surely an excuse for his father to crown him Emperor.  He had nothing
to worry about.  Maximus was first and foremost loyal to Rome and her leader, no matter who
held the position.

It had been a decade since he'd seen him, yet Commodus could still picture the 20 year old
Spaniard's sparkling blue eyes, his short-cropped dark hair, his muscular body and large, beefy
frame.  Maximus had always been a fighter, he had a fighter's body, and what a body it was...

Commodus stopped that memory; he couldn't have such thoughts with Lucilla beside him out here
on the road.  At home, he could send for a young man or woman to relieve him of the pressure,
but here, he just had Lucilla, and he promised himself he could not do that.  Not now.

He looked at her still sleeping, her pink lips parted slightly, her cheeks with a bare hint of
flush from the cold air.  Her chest rose and fell with her breaths, the furs and cloak
swaddling her tightly, keeping her warm.

Although the furs were luxurious, Commodus didn't like cold weather, he preferred his sister
wrapped in silk, showing her fine body adorned with jewels.

He loved Lucilla more than anything in the world; more than Rome; when she had gotten married,
he had been miserable for weeks on end.  He had been in such a terrible mood that he had
frightened the servants terribly.  They refused to be alone in his quarters with him, and no
matter how meticulous they had performed their duties, Commodus had always found some fault.
He shrugged at the memory; most of them had lived.

He'd tried to stop the marriage at the outset, he'd tried to keep her for himself, but he could
not convince his father there was a more suitable man for Lucilla in Rome.

"She must marry, Commodus," his father had said.  "We cannot stop her from growing up."  Then
his father had looked him straight in the eye and said, "We must have an heir."  He remembered
the look on his father's face, the challenging glare that said, "you haven't given the throne
one yet."

But now Lucilla's husband was dead, the result of an unfortunate accident, and he had her back.
Commodus had been there to console his sister, holding her, comforting her, stroking her hair.
Now they were alone.  This is how it was supposed to be.  They'd rule Rome together.

Yes, keeping Lucilla for himself was remarkably easy.  He'd even taken her away from Maximus.
He nearly groaned aloud at the name invading his thoughts and annoying him like a mosquito in a
tent. 

He felt troubled when he thought of seeing Maximus, and he didn't like feeling troubled.
Surely all had been forgotten in the decade since they'd seen each other.  Surely Maximus'
devotion to and from Marcus Aurelius outweighed the small confrontation that had happened years
ago.  Yet, the last vision the prince had of Maximus was the Spaniard's face snarling into his
own.

// Maybe ten years wasn't that long after all.//

As much as Commodus didn't want to admit it, he may have Lucilla, but Maximus still sat at his
father's right hand and was the hero son he could never be.

// But I am his son by blood and Maximus is only a substitution.//

He turned to pace the small coach, but found he could not, so he turned back to the window.
His breath came in great clouds from his nostrils, his lips tightened so you could hardly see
them.  He tried to stop the memories from that time ten years ago, memories that he thought he
had pushed out of his mind and forgotten forever, but today they all came flooding back, and he
had no choice but to deal with them. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Marcus Aurelius had beckoned them to Spain, saying how much he missed his children, and telling
them they could not live without seeing its beauty.  He also wanted them to meet his new young
officer that had the prospect of becoming a great leader of the northern army.

For a week, Commodus and Lucilla sailed across the Mediterranean to Spain.  Commodus thought
the trip was a waste of time, he had better things to do than sit around, meet people he surely
wasn't interested in, and get fat.  Who cared about the northern army or the officers that
commanded them?  The point was that these people were loyal to Rome and fought for her without
hesitation.  As long as they did their job, what did Commodus care to meet them?  As for his
father, his absence from home was not entirely noticed, but more a pleasant void.

While his father was away on his campaigns, Commodus had grown into a young man, his body
filling out into broad shoulders tapering to a muscular abdomen and strong legs.  He wondered
if his father would recognize him at all.  He kept his body trim and fit, causing not only
young women, but young men to give him a second glance.  Commodus always had a high opinion of
himself, and the stares of women and men who simply wanted to touch him gave his ego cause to
inflate even more.  By the time his father beckoned him to this land, he was more
self-confident and full of himself than ever.

Upon arrival in Spain, they were quickly whisked away to their father's encampment.  During the
short ride, Commodus had already formed many opinions of Spain, none of them favourable.  He
made a decision to pout as much as possible, so his father would send him home as soon as he
could.  Commodus knew how much pouting annoyed his father.

Lucilla noticed the look on her brother's face, and his mood, and told him to behave himself.
This place was indeed beautiful, and something good would come of their visit, as if she could
sense such things.  She held his hand and told him she had a feeling they'd enjoy their stay.

"I doubt that very much," he huffed.  Lucilla was in love with everything since her marriage.
The only real consolation Commodus gained from this trip was that her husband could not join
them.  He had Lucilla all to himself for a few weeks.

"Little brother, you are far too cynical for someone so young."  She kissed his cheek as their
litter stopped.

"Eighteen is hardly young," Commodus said as he helped her to the ground.

"You are younger than I," she smiled back.

They departed the covered transport at the Emperor's tent, and walked inside the grand
enclosure.  Ornate tapestries covered the walls of the tent depicting battles won and
territories conquered.  Plush rugs lined the interior to make it soft for the Emperor's tender
feet.  Statues of gods and the Emperor himself loomed over the people in the room.  Comfortable
furnishings were scattered about for those who were allowed to sit.  Commodus noticed his
father's desk in the corner, stacked high with scrolls and writing equipment.

They walked the short distance to the throne where their father was seated, the crowd silencing
as they crossed the floor.

"Emperor", Commodus said as he got down on one knee and kissed Marcus Aurelius' hand.

"Commodus, my son," the old man said.  "Look at you," He exclaimed, pulling him to his feet and
giving him a hug.  "I've been away far too long, my young son has grown into a strong man!"

Commodus beamed; maybe he would hold off on pouting if his father kept praising and paying
attention to him.

His father smiled at him, then looked down at Lucilla who bowed before him, "Caesar", she said
before he beckoned her to rise.

"Aaaaah, Lucilla, my lovely daughter, you grow more beautiful every day.  It's a shame your
husband could not join us."

"His business requires him to stay in Rome."

Marcus just held Lucilla's hand for a long minute and smiled at her with a tender expression.  

Commodus smiled weakly; he could feel the pouting inside him start to break through. Her beauty
was known far and wide throughout Rome, and it did nothing but make him feel inferior.
Although he was proud of his sister, he still felt jealous of her.  Outwardly, he was keenly
aware of his own good looks, but deep down he had little self-confidence.  His father's
adoration of Lucilla didn't do anything to boost his ego.  

Their father turned them around and they were introduced to the officers in the room, a bunch
of gruff men, used to hard living and bad weather.  None of them impressed Commodus in the
least.  He studied the lines in their faces and his father's face.  This life took its toll.
He could not live this life; he didn't want his face to be full of lines as deep as crevasses
in the side of a mountain.  He wanted to be as smooth as marble.

Just then, a man of about twenty burst through the flap in the tent.  He immediately dropped to
one knee before the Emperor.

"Caesar, forgive my tardiness."

Commodus nearly sneered at the man on the floor, how dare he be late to a meeting as important
as this.  If his father had not been present, he would have chastised this young soldier and
have him sent to the far reaches of the north to live out his career.

He was about to whisper to Lucilla about the obvious infraction, when Marcus went over to the
young man and put his hand on his shoulder.  He massaged it slightly, then tipped the man's
head up to meet his own.

"It's fine, Maximus.  Quintus told me you may be late."  The old man smiled down at the officer
then beckoned him to stand.  "You had trouble with your horse?"

"Thank you, sire," Maximus said and smiled at the Emperor.  "Her leg was cut while on exercise
today, but she will heal quickly."

Looking upon the scene, Commodus was suddenly struck by many emotions, and he didn't know if he
could stand to experience them all at once.  First, he was struck by this young officer's
beauty.  His straight nose and sparkling eyes with his dark hair and complexion struck a nerve
in Commodus that settled in his groin.  Second, he was slightly annoyed, yet intrigued by this
man's obvious devotion to his father.  Third, he was feeling uneasy how his father's arm was
still around his shoulder, as if he was a long lost friend.

They were introduced to the young officer, who didn't give Commodus more than a glance, but
whose voice faltered when he met Lucilla.  Commodus was used to this reaction, and dismissed
it, she was married now, and this young man didn't stand a chance.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

For a week, brother and sister met with local dignitaries and their father's officers, while
feasting on delicacies of the area.  Commodus observed with annoyance as his Father kept this
Maximus close to his side and conferred with him often.  His father joked and laughed with this
young man, and treated him as his son, even though his own son was beside him.  Anger and
jealousy welled up inside Commodus, but he was polite for Lucilla's sake, and smiled as he
drank the wine down to dull his pain.

Day after day of meetings, feasts and stories of war only bored Commodus.  This Maximus wasn't
a very good storyteller, and didn't hold his interest in the least bit.  He distracted himself
with thoughts of gagging and restraining the large man until he bent to his will, which only
amused him slightly.  He could do this at home and be as equally bored.

At night, his restlessness and terror of the night kept him pacing his quarters, every lamp he
could find lit and burning bright.  He hoped that Lucilla would visit him; she used to come to
him often when she was at home, knowing Commodus could not sleep.  She would sit and hold his
hand, and they would talk until she would grow weary then go back to her own rooms.  He had
asked her to stay, asked her to do it just once, but she always refused. 

After five nights of sitting alone, Commodus, fueled by much wine, ventured out into the night
to his Sister's tent.  The Praetorian guards tried to distract him with idle chitchat, but he
strode past them, much to their dismay.  He didn't understand what their worry was, it was well
known that he visited his sister at night in Rome, why would now be any different?

He entered her tent and stopped.  He didn't want to wake her.  He wanted to watch her sleep.
Quietly, he stole to the curtain separating the living quarters from the bedchamber, reaching
out to pull it aside, when he heard a moan.

Commodus stopped his arm in motion.  He heard another moan then the rhythmic sound of skin
slapping against skin.  He pulled the curtain back and stopped a gasp in his throat as he
beheld the scene before him.

Maximus was making love to his sister.  HIS sister!  A married woman no less.  A slave would be
forgiven, but with a free man, it was adultery and not tolerated.  Dumbstruck, Commodus watched
them, the jealousy building up inside him at the sight of this man touching Lucilla.  Wasn't
being his father's surrogate son enough?  Now he had to make love to Lucilla as if she were his
wife?  She belonged to Commodus, couldn't everyone see that?  Why couldn't they just leave them
alone?

His eyes narrowed and a bitter bile moved into his mouth.  He told himself he should storm into
the bedchamber, he should challenge Maximus to a fight to the death for tarnishing his sister's
honour... but he found he could not move, he was mesmerized by the scene.

Instead of a fight, he opted to watch Maximus and Lucilla move as one, their bodies a sweaty
animal in the middle of the bed.  He could hear his sister's moans, now louder combined with
Maximus' grunts.  Jealousy left Commodus and was replaced by desire.  This Maximus was
certainly beautiful, and he could see why his sister would be taken with him.  Commodus' cock
hardened and started to throb as he watched them; watched Maximus.  He reached inside his tunic
and grabbed hold of himself, squeezing himself, feeling himself tense and get harder.  He bit
back a moan as he started to stroke along his shaft, his experienced fingers knowing which
spots to press and rub to give himself ultimate pleasure.

A gasp left Maximus as he buried his head between Lucilla's breasts, making Commodus bite his
lip harder.  He could taste the tang of blood in his mouth and licked the wound to wean more
from it.

Maximus' round buttocks clenched with every thrust, his smooth skin glistening in the light
from the lamps scattered throughout the tent.  A gentle breeze moved the curtains draped around
the bed, and dried the sweat on the back of Commodus' neck.  The sight of the officer's naked
body did things to him that no one else could.  He desired him; he wanted him, nearly yearned
for him.  He never physically wanted anyone before, and it was exciting.  He could just stand
here and stare at him for hours, stroking himself, bringing himself to pleasure again and
again.

A moan from Lucilla broke his trance, and he marveled at the strength of Maximus' muscles as he
reared up to drive faster and harder.  The muscles in his strong back and legs flexed with
every move, sending Commodus' cock throbbing so that it would explode at any moment.

Commodus' breath hitched in the back of his throat and he spilled his seed into his hand, lips
pursed to shut out the moan that rose in his throat.  He barely registered Maximus' grunt and
groan as he came, whispering Lucilla's name.

He stood there for a few moments, his sweaty forehead against a tent pole.  He watched as
Maximus and his sister recovered from their tryst and he slunk back to his own tent, aching to
be nestled between them, safe in their arms, kissing them gently.

All night he thought of the Spaniard and his perfect body.  He was a fighter that was for sure.
Maximus would be a match for Commodus in a battle, and would be even more of a match in bed.
He thought of he and Maximus together, mouths and tongues licking and kissing wherever they
could reach, hands and fingers caressing and fondling each other to screaming delights.

He hated Maximus; he hated that he had become a son to Marcus Aurelius.  He hated the way his
sister obviously adored him.  He hated how he was destined to be a great leader of men.  Yet,
Commodus was destined to rule Rome, and one day Maximus would kneel down and kiss his ring.

He hated Maximus, yet he wanted and now certainly craved him as some men craved wine.  He
needed the young officer in his bed; he had to have him.

Commodus lay back in his bed, his naked body still tingling from the thoughts running through
his mind.  How would he get Maximus to make love to him when he clearly only wanted Lucilla?

He reached down to casually stroke himself, his mind working quickly to think of a plan, and
then it came to him, clear and concise, yes the perfect plan.  No one would deny Commodus, not
Maximus, nor his sister.  He was the crown prince of Rome, and they would satisfy him without
question.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

For a week, Commodus stole into his sister's bedchamber to watch her and Maximus make love.
How he'd crave to be lying between them, their warm bodies flanking his, suckling one then
another.  After he'd have his fill of them, he'd slink back to his own tent and call for a
young man and woman to come to his rooms and fulfil his fantasy as best they could.  Sometimes,
he'd have them all night and stay in bed most of the day, the sunshine filtering through the
billowing curtains to warm his naked body.

The praetorian guards were paid well for their secrecy.

Lucilla obviously thought no one knew about her and Maximus' tryst except her loyal servants.
Every morning, Commodus would ask her how she slept, and she would smile a little smile and say
she slept as well as she could under the circumstances of being away from home.  Commodus would
give her a knowing smile, but she was too lost in her own world to notice.

Armed with his knowledge of their infidelity, Commodus now caught the glances shared between
them at the feasts and gatherings she was allowed to attend that he had earlier dismissed as
pure curiosity.  He knew what they were thinking.  He'd seen their naked bodies pressed against
each other, covered in beads of sweat, moving in tandem until they exploded like a shimmering
star.

"I know," he whispered to himself as he looked at them one evening flanking his father. "I
know, dear sister," he whispered again.

Seated beside them, Commodus had no choice but to hear the praise his father directed at
Maximus, making the hair on the back of his neck rise in annoyance.  Again and again Marcus
Aurelius stated how Maximus was becoming a great leader, and would become a General one day,
and would no doubt save Rome from her enemies for a long time to come.  The old man gazed
approvingly at Maximus, a proud smile on his face, the smile Commodus never received.  Barely
twenty, Maximus was young for an officer, but the adoration Cesar felt favoured him well.

Yes, Maximus was certainly his father's favourite; Commodus was mostly ignored, even though he
sat right beside them.  Commodus didn't think Maximus was so special, he thought he could step
into Maximus' shoes at any time.  He would lead Rome, certainly he could lead an army.  One day
his father would realize that.

All this tension led to more intense training with his guards and anyone else who would
challenge him.  More than a few times, he'd sent a sparring partner to the surgeon.  But no
matter how hard he trained, his desires remained unfulfilled.  His father's love was as elusive
as the games Commodus begged to fight in.

He hated Maximus as much as he desired the man.  He thought of slicing open the young officer's
abdomen with his sword, then watch as the large, muscular frame hit the ground in a cloud of
dust before he died.  He also started to think of that large, muscular frame towering over him
as he drove into him, letting out the grunts and groans he made with Lucilla.

The young men and women that were procured for Commodus' bedchamber did not satisfy him
anymore.  No matter how hard he fought with his guards, or how much he fucked with the whores,
there was only one thing that would satisfy him.  He had to get Maximus for himself, to gain
the upper hand and show him whom was boss.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next night, Commodus stole into his sister's chamber as he had done before, watching her
and Maximus make love.  He waited until Maximus left the tent before he came out from his
hiding place.  Lucilla was drifting off to sleep, a slight smile on her face.  A single sheet
covered her naked body.

Commodus moved closer, quietly and gently sitting on the bed beside her.  He stretched out
beside his sister, sniffing Maximus' scent on the pillow.  He turned his head and pressed his
face to the fabric, smelling Maximus' musk and sweat as the unmistakable aroma of sex enveloped
him.  His cock stiffened and he let out a little moan as it rubbed against his tunic.

Lucilla also moaned in her sleep, snuggling back against the body in her bed that she no doubt
thought was Maximus.  Commodus turned to his side and gathered her into his arms, pressing his
body into hers, before kissing her hair.

"I see Spain has been good to you, sister," he whispered into her ear.

A startled cry left Lucilla's lips, and she tried to move away, but Commodus' strong arms held
fast.

"It is a shame your husband cannot see you now, satisfied and warm with passion," he cooed
before climbing on top of her and pinning her hands above her head.

"Commodus..." she whispered desperately, struggling to get free.  Suddenly she stopped, gasped,
then lay very still.  She could no doubt feel the hardness at her brother's groin pressing into
the thin sheet that separated them.

After a moment, she gave one last attempt to twist free, but Commodus had a tight grip.  Fear
showed on her face and she refused to meet his eyes.

"Yes, it is a shame he can't see you and the officer Maximus together," he sneered, moving in
closer.  "You two are quite the picture," he spat.

Lucilla turned her head in disgust as tears formed in her eyes.

"He does live up to his name, does he not?"

Lucilla gasped again and began to cry.  Commodus laughed into her ear, then pulled back and
shifted so one hand held her thin wrists, while the other wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"Now, dear sister, why are you crying?  I thought you enjoyed the officer?"

"What do you want?" she finally whimpered.

He licked the tears from his fingers.

"It's more of a question of what your husband would want."

He shifted again, his still hard cock pressing down to her abdomen.  It would be easy to take
advantage of this situation, but that would likely jeopardize his plan.  He would have to wait
for that prize until he knew she had no choice but to give it to him.

Lucilla finally looked up at him, her lashes spiked with bitter tears.  "What are you going to
do?"

Commodus smiled again, the jealousy, hatred and arousal welling up inside.  "I'm not going to
do anything.  You are."

She looked away.

"You are going to give me your young officer tomorrow night.  You are going to bring him here
then turn him over to me.  You're not the only one who should be satisfied on this journey."

"How am I to do such a thing?" she whimpered, fighting to keep her voice calm.

"That is a question, only you can answer, Lucilla."

"I won't," she said defiantly, tears filling her eyes again.  "I cannot."

He shifted again, digging his hard cock into her abdomen again.  "You can, and you will.  You
will do this, or I will tell your husband.  As a woman, you know the price for adultery is
harsher than for a man.  Royal family or not."

A cry of horror left her mouth then she began to sob.  "Please, Commodus, no," she choked.
"You ask too much of me."

He leaned in to nuzzle her cheek under his then kissed it gently.  "Yes," was his reply as
finally released her from his death grip.

He climbed off of her and watched as she curled herself into a ball, her knees up to her chest,
hugging the bedclothes around her.  He left her sobbing and shivering to herself, intent on
finding a whore who could satisfy his overwhelming urge.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The following day a feast was held, as the army was to march northeast to Germania tomorrow,
giving cause for celebration.  Throughout the long meal, Commodus watched his sister sit by
their father's side, coolly smiling and visiting those who bid good wishes upon him.  The
politeness bestowed upon Lucilla was a result of her position and business like manner, as well
as the adoration of her father.  Any other woman would have been ignored.

Maximus arrived late, after helping his troops get organized.  Marcus Aurelius had a twinkle in
his eye as he remarked what a great leader he was and how he always put his men before him,
causing Commodus to turn away and roll his eyes.  After much eating and drinking, and what
seemed like a torturous eternity, Maximus finally bade everyone goodnight and left, causing
Lucilla and Commodus to do so soon after.

Commodus didn't even go back to his own tent, instead escorting his sister back to her
quarters, where, to her full knowledge, he took his position behind the curtain.

He noticed that Maximus had had too much wine that evening, as he drunkenly kissed Lucilla on
the cheek before sloppily moving his way down to her neck.  He fumbled slightly with her tunic,
but she pulled away and went over to her dressing table where she procured a small bottle.  She
held it out to Maximus.

"Drink this."

"What is it?"

"It is an aphrodisiac."

Maximus looked at her intently.  "Lucilla, I do not need help becoming aroused when I am with
you."

She smiled and strode ahead to her lover.  "It is to heighten the feeling."  She rubbed up
against him.  "I wish to make this final evening of ours memorable."

Commodus silently commended his sister's performance; she was certainly entertaining.  As if he
heard her, she shot a glare in the direction of where Commodus was hiding while Maximus drank
the contents of the small bottle.  Her expression changed back to tenderness as she faced her
lover again.  She kissed him gently, her tongue running over his lips as if to catch the potion
that clung there.

Maximus closed his eyes and tilted his head back as Lucilla started kissing his neck.  After a
moment, she moved back up and captured his lips again before kissing each of his eyelids.
Then, with a large, silent sigh that only Commodus could see, she started to undress him.

Commodus watched in fascination as she stripped Maximus of his armour, footwear and tunic, soon
leaving him naked in the flickering lamp light.  He could see the elixir given to Maximus work
quickly, so that he was weaving as he tried to kiss Lucilla.

"Lie down, Maximus," she said softly.

He took her advice and stretched out on the bed in a semi-lucid haze.  "'Cilla," he murmured
before he closed his eyes and drifted off.

Commodus stepped forward into the chamber and to the side of the bed, a wicked smile on his
face.  "You have done well, sister."  He ran his fingers up Maximus' strong thigh.

"I have done as you asked," she whispered.  "Now I will take my leave."  She turned to exit the
room, but Commodus grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

"I think not," he said as he shoved her into a chair.

She looked at him with hate filled eyes, "I cannot watch you do this."

"You can and you will."  Quickly, she was bound to the chair with the golden rope used to hold
her tunic together.  "Pretty as a goddess," he whispered and kissed her as she tried to move
away.

He stepped back, noticing the misery on his sister's face, before he turned and looked at his
prize on the bed.

Maximus was sprawled on his back, breathing heavily from the drug.  Commodus ran his hand up
the unconscious man's thigh again, where he caressed the smooth skin covering the taut muscle.
Maximus moaned as Commodus lingered where leg met body, kneading the sensitive skin before
moving up to run his hands across his taut abdomen, the muscles clearly defined.

Kneeling on the bed, Commodus continued to caress Maximus' body up to his neck where he ran his
fingers lightly over his flushed cheeks and swollen lips.  He inserted two fingers into the
pink mouth, where they were sucked on lazily before being withdrawn.

Quickly, Commodus disrobed, not noticing his sister's head down and her eyes shut tightly
against the scene.  Her hands moved slightly in their bonds, as if to move up and cover her
ears.

He moved back to the bed where he continued his ministrations over the young officer's body,
watching in fascination as Maximus grew more and more aroused, yet did not wake from his half
slumber.  Commodus massaged Maximus' upper thigh one more time before grasping the thick member
jutting up from the dark patch of curls at his groin.  It was hot and dark red, as if angry.

Commodus' need was also prevalent, his dusky cock already hard and twitching, nearly begging
for attention.

Finished with his hands, Commodus began to use his mouth on the young officer, kissing and
licking the hardened nipples on his expansive chest, giving him cause to moan out loud.
"Lucilla," Maximus whispered, his speech still slurred.  Lucilla moaned to herself in the chair
then began to sob.

Paying her no attention, Commodus licked and nipped his way down Maximus' muscular body.  His
hands moved across the arms and chest as his mouth moved lower and lower reaching his final
destination.  A bead of essence glistened at the tip of the hardness waiting for him, which was
licked off with gusto.  Commodus swallowed, savouring the flavour for a moment before
descending upon it again.

Maximus whimpered Lucilla's name again, causing Commodus to stiffen slightly.  He looked up and
noticed Maximus' eyes were bare slits showing a tiny sliver of blue surrounding black.  Nearly
smirking to himself, he continued to suck, his fingers kneading the heavy sac below.  Ignoring
the nearly painful throbbing at his groin, Commodus kept teasing and taunting Maximus; he
wanted to have some more fun with the man.

Finally, he pulled off with a swirl of his tongue across the head, leaving the young officer
moaning and whimpering below him.  Gently, Maximus' legs were spread, the tonic taking all his
inhibitions away.  Commodus put a finger in his mouth and wet it before gently probing the
crack of Maximus' ass. 

Lucilla sucked in her breath, "Commodus, please stop.  Do not do this to him."

His finger passed through the tight ring of muscle, grinning when the man moaned and bucked his
hips.

"Dear sister, I have only just begun."

Lucilla did not answer.

Commodus delighted in Maximus' reaction to his fingers.  His cock was an even darker shade of
red and leaking, his foreskin pulled back to reveal the soft, velvety head.  The officer was
brought to the brink many times, Commodus watching him writhe and moan on the bed.  The drug
was starting to wear off, however, and Commodus knew that this was his moment to set his final
act in motion.

He removed his finger from Maximus and unceremoniously wiped it on the bedsheet, then moved up
and kissed the man on the mouth, his tongue probing inside for a moment.  He pulled away and
looked down at the aroused man, stroking his face, grinning when his hand was nuzzled with a
stubbly cheek.

Commodus pulled back to kneel on the bed then spit liberally on his hands.  He coated Maximus'
cock as best he could with his saliva and the free flowing precome from the slit.  He heard
Lucilla whimper as he climbed on top of her lover. 

// I know she can't help but to watch.//

>From his nightly observations, he knew that this was the position most favoured by the two.

Slowly, he slid down, filling himself with the throbbing hardness.  He had been like this
before, but it had been some time, and it took a few minutes to adjust.  Once he had fully
sheathed Maximus, he stopped.  Maximus was indeed coming out of the haze induced by the drug
and his hands wandered back to caress Commodus' ass then moved up to his chest.  Commodus took
the hands, undoubtedly looking for breasts, in his own and used them to leverage himself up and
down on the stiff cock.

He rocked back and forth as he slid up and down, his own cock smearing Maximus' belly hair with
his sticky essence.  He closed his eyes, leaned back and moaned.  He wanted the officer to come
first, so he increased his pace, slamming Maximus' cock deeper into him.  Sweat rolled down
Commodus' body, mingling with the droplets covering the other man.

Maximus' chest heaved and his cheeks were flushed.  Commodus let one hand go and reached around
to fondle the officer's balls.  It wouldn't be long now.  He moved his hand back, but Maximus
was caressing his chest with his now free hand.  Suddenly, his eyes opened and he looked up, a
confused look on his face.  He didn't have time to react, however, as his orgasm took hold.  He
bucked his hips and gave a shout as he spent his seed inside Commodus.

Commodus leaned forward and pinned Maximus' arms over his head and thrust faster.  His position
allowed his cock to rub along Maximus' abdomen, causing him to moan with every stroke.  He
kissed Maximus hard, stifling a cry from the man beneath him as realization took over.

Pain shot through Commodus' mouth as his lip was bit.  He looked into angry blue eyes as he
tasted blood in his mouth, laughing as he came, coating Maximus' belly with his fluid.

Suddenly, Commodus was being lifted off of his reluctant partner with a sticky pop and thrown
backwards onto the floor.  His body tingling from orgasm, he hardly felt the pain as his body
knocked against the heavy dressing table.  It took him a few minutes to realize Maximus was
screaming with rage at the two siblings.

"What is happening?" the Spaniard roared.

Commodus rose to his feet to meet the mostly sober, furious Maximus.

"What are you playing at?" he spat at Commodus, who took this anger as mission accomplished.

Commodus just stood there and smirked at the angry officer as come oozed down the backs and
insides of his thighs.

Maximus raised his fist to strike, but he must have thought of the consequences of hitting the
crown prince, because he quickly lowered his hand.  Instead, he reached for the sheet and wiped
off his cock.  He then ignored Commodus and turned to Lucilla who didn't meet his gaze.

"This was just a game to you."

"No," she whispered.

He lowered his head and started to get dressed.  "It was all a big game."

"Maximus," she said, raising her head, her eyes still full of tears.  "I had no choice."  She
struggled in her bonds to reiterate the point.

"There's always a choice."  He stopped and looked at her, his expression of hurt and sorrow.
He then turned to Commodus, his expression now of hate.  "I'm not going to waste my breath."
He breathed through his nose and brushed past him, bumping his shoulder as he did.

Smirking to himself, Commodus took the same sheet and wiped himself clean before tossing it
aside.  Still naked, he went to Lucilla and untied her.  She stood before him, rubbing her
wrists, her eyes shooting daggers into him.

"You bastard!" she cried.  "You bastard!"  She started pummeling him with her fists, but her
weak blows barely made Commodus flinch.  She soon just stopped and stood there, shoulders
slumping forward, a look of despair on her face.

"He deserved it all," Commodus said to her.  He started to get dressed then stopped and gave a
short laugh.  "However, he didn't deserve me."

She turned away from him with disgust.  "You may leave."

Commodus finished putting on his clothes and left his sister's chamber, a sly smile on his
face.  He had gotten Maximus away from his sister, which was all that mattered right now.
Soon, he would work on that menace of a husband.  He would never have told of her infidelity,
he did not want her exiled or killed, he only wanted her by his side.

When Commodus woke the next day, he found the troops mobilized and ready to march to the north
for battle.  The officer Maximus and had gone ahead with the lead party.  Lucilla was also
gone.  She had left for Rome in the middle of the night, not waiting for the ship to be
readied, instead opting to travel over land, leaving Commodus all alone.

His father had asked him to join them in battle so he could see first hand what a soldier and
leader Maximus was.  Commodus declined, saying that he should catch up to Lucilla, and he did
not like her party to travel alone.  With disdain and disappointment in his voice, Marcus
Aurelius had let him go home.

He and Lucilla were estranged for many years, she even refused to accept him into her house.
When Lucius was born, she sent back his gifts, and did not allow him to see his Nephew.
Commodus spent those many years alone, save for slaves, Praetorian Guards and palace staff.

Loneliness manifested his madness, and his revengeful thoughts toward his enemies.  It was
years until the unfortunate accident claimed Lucilla's husband, giving her nowhere to go but
home.  Commodus welcomed her and Lucius with open arms; just happy she was his again.  Maximus,
however was still a burden in his hand.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Royal coach hit a bump in the road, jarring Commodus from his thoughts.  Lucilla finally
woke, stretching and smiling at her brother.  Commodus sat and took her hand and kissed it.
They would rule Rome together, king and queen of their own domain.  All he had to do was
dissolve the senate and the love of Rome would be entirely his.

He laid down, his head on his sister's chest.  Yes, very soon they would rule Rome; even
Maximus Decimus Meridas would bow down to him.  They'd bow and be loyal and if they weren't,
they'd face his wrath.  He snuggled into his sister's embrace, confident in his impending
position and power, and finally slept.

The End