This is a work of fiction based on a character created in the Universal / Dreamworks film, “Gladiator.” There is no intent to infringe on copyright or profit in any way from the character.  The story is strictly for entertainment purposes as a work of fantasy fan fiction.  Do not copy, print or publish any part of this story without the written permission of the author.

A Last Goodbye…

by:  Pamela

©12/2005

He caught the scent of her before he saw her, and he stood the moment she entered, bringing with her the sweet, familiar fragrance of jasmine. Lit only by the fire that flickered in the torches outside the cell, shadows of flames darting across the walls, they moved close to each other. Her face, always beautiful, was troubled and full of sadness, her eyes dark and desperate. She seemed so fragile, more vulnerable than he had ever seen her, except, perhaps, in those long ago days when they were young and in love and she gave herself to him completely, heart and mind, body and soul. She had been everything to him then, and he to her. She was his intellectual match and his spiritual other half. They talked and laughed and dreamed, and there was between them a powerful and unquenchable physical passion he tried for years afterward to forget. But he was a soldier on the rise, a man of honor and principle and, above all, duty. As his military prowess and reputation grew, so did his enormous responsibilities, and the endless years of campaigning and separation took their toll. They were too much apart for their love to prosper and mature, to grow into something around which one builds a life. She grew lonely and weary of waiting. Eventually, her father found a match for her. Their lives went on, separate and distant. By all accounts her husband was a good man, a devoted father who died young and left her a widow too soon. He remembered now the pain of learning she had married, the more because they had never really said goodbye. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her, and, for a moment, the years fell away.

“You still smell of jasmine….”

Her eyes dropped for an instant and her breath caught in her throat. Then, she lifted her head and her eyes met his. “When we were young, I wore it because you loved it…later, to keep you with me…now it is part of me…keeper of my memories….”

He swallowed thickly, fighting the sudden desire that rose, unbidden and unexpected, from somewhere deep inside him.

“Why have you come? It’s dangerous.”

“My brother has had Gracchus arrested. We daren’t wait any longer. You must leave tonight. Proximo will come at midnight and take you to the gate. Your servant Cicero will be waiting there with horses.”

He nodded, his eyes searching his face. “You have done all this ?”

“Yes.”

He shook his head and remembered the strength and courage she carried inside her, the strength and courage of her father. “You risk too much.”

“I have…” Her voice cracked and words caught in her throat. “I have much to pay for….”

He shook his head again, wanting to reassure her, to comfort her. “You have nothing to pay for. You love your son. You’re strong for him.”

Her lower lip trembled and tears welled in her eyes as she saw forgiveness in his. “I am tired of being strong. My brother hates all the world…and you most of all.”

“Because your father chose me.”

She shook her head, a wistful smile whispering across her face. “No…because my father loved you…and because…I…loved you….”

He fought the urge to take her in his arms. It was wrong to think of such things. Instead, he took her hand and brought it to his lips, letting them linger against her skin longer than he should have. “A long time ago….”

“Was I very different then?”

He smiled at her, for the first time in many years. He shook his head, his eyes darkening as they moved over her face. Gently, he drew his index finger along the line of her jaw, coming to rest near her mouth. “You laughed more.”

She shuddered at his touch and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were filled with longing. “I have felt alone all my life…except with you….”

A thick, silent tension hung in the air between them. He took a step back from her, seeing his undoing in her eyes, She knew it as well as he. She tried to break the spell, tried to fight the hold he’d had on her for as long as she could remember. She took a deep breath, willing it away. “I must go….”

“Yes….”

She dropped her eyes and turned away, but the need for one last glimpse of his face was too much for her to bear. She looked up at him. “Maximus…,” she whispered, her voice low and husky, thick with longing. He leaned toward her, drowning in the scent of jasmine. She came into his arms as a spent, lonely traveler comes home, her body molding instinctively to his. Her mouth opened for his kiss and they were lost.

He lifted her off her feet as if she were no more than a shadow and her veil fell away from her face, drifting to the floor like gossamer wings. He carried her to the rough, makeshift bed in the corner of the cell and eased her gently against the coarse woolen blanket. “This is no place for the daughter of an Emperor….” The words were filled with shame and regret. Leaning over her and closing his eyes, he bowed his head.

She reached up and took his head in her hands. “Look at me,” she whispered. He opened his eyes and stared down at her. “I have loved you for as long as I can remember. I never stopped loving you. Not when you left me and weeks became months, months became years. Not when I married, not when you married. Not when I thought you were dead. Not when you became my brother’s sworn enemy. Only the gods know what tomorrow will bring. Can we not find comfort in each other tonight, Maximus? If the worst comes, I would spend these last hours in your arms….” Her body trembled with anticipation, longing for his touch, the touch she remembered every night of her life. “I cannot live another night without you.” He said nothing, but his eyes were dark with desire and he nodded his head. She took a deep shuddering breath and drew him to her, closing her eyes in gratitude when he didn’t resist.

After a long moment, he eased himself away from her and gently pulled her to a sitting position. He reached up and, one by one, removed the golden pins that held her hair. It fell around her face and tumbled across her shoulders, a thick cascade of soft, dark curls. He let the silky strands play slowly through his fingers, bringing them to his lips and inhaling their scent. “This is how I remember you…,” he whispered.

He lowered her onto her back, and slowly, gently he began to touch her, his yes never leaving her face. Finally, he leaned toward her and kissed her, softly, tenderly. Her mouth opened beneath his and before her eyes languidly closed, she saw reflected in his a searing desire that matched her own.

He moved one hand over her breasts and along the line of her hip, gathering the fullness of her gown in his fingers. He slid the soft, filmy fabric upward, until her bare calves and thighs were exposed. He removed her sandals and caressed the shapely length of her leg. He continued to kiss her, releasing her for breathless seconds, covering her face and throat with his lips, then claiming her mouth once more. His fingers slid beneath the silk to brush against her breasts and she shuddered at his touch, arching toward him so that he could pull the bodice of her gown off her shoulders. He kissed her again, a kiss full with long-denied passion, deepening it when she responded by raising one leg and moving the inside of her thigh against the outside of his in a slow, deliberate motion. His soldier’s hands fumbled at the satin ribbons that held her gown in place. She helped him and it fell away from her body, leaving her naked in his arms.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he allowed his eyes to travel the length of her body, savoring it, taking his fill of the sight of flickering torchlight on her warm, beautiful skin. “Jasmine…,” he breathed, trailing his mouth along the slope of her shoulder.

As his mouth took hers again, he let his fingers slide down her throat to her breasts, his palm moving across her hardened nipples. She gasped as his thumb moved in circles around the aching tips that longed for his touch. She began to move against him in a slow, seductive rhythm, and a groan of pleasure rumbled deep in his throat.

She pulled the rough blue tunic over his head and let it drop to the floor, savoring the sight of his powerful body above her. He was as she remembered him, virile and strong, gentle and tender. Slowly, sensually, she moved her hands over the hard, taut muscles, rediscovering him. She knew his body well and she had never forgotten what gave him pleasure. She moved over him and eased him onto his back. Leaning toward him, her mouth followed her hands. She explored every inch of him, tasting and touching, rediscovering the glorious body she had never forgotten, the body she had longed for since she was 17, the body that filled her nights and haunted her dreams. “I have waited so very long for you,” she whispered. She left kisses against his mouth and along the length of his throat, over the strength of his shoulders and arms. Her tongue licked softly at his rigid nipples. She kissed him deeply, letting her hand find the strength of his erection, caressing him. He grew even stronger and strained against her touch.

His mouth left hers, gasping with pleasure. “Ah, Lucilla….” He buried his face in her hair, and the heat of his breath in her ear drove her mad with wanting him. She covered his face with hungry, wet kisses, shuddering as she felt the slight pressure behind his eyelids against her mouth.

She took his wrists, pulling his arms up and over his head. He knew what she was about to do and he inhaled sharply, a shuddering, ragged breath. She put her mouth against the soft flesh under his arms, sucking softly, her tongue teasing. He gasped and the muscles of his arms, already pulled taut and tense, flexed in response. She inhaled deeply, drowning in the musky, masculine scent of him.

He opened his eyes and a deep groan of pleasure escaped his clenched teeth, Through lids heavy with passion he looked down and watched her hands and mouth move hungrily over his body. Slowly, she ran her hands over his thighs. Moving over him, she bent her head and lowered herself between his legs. He shuddered with anticipation and twisted his hands in the shining thickness of her hair. Dream-like, he saw the shimmering mass whisper across his bare thighs. As her mouth moved steadily, inexorably downward, he twitched slightly, drew one knee up and opened his legs for her, his hips beginning to move with the ancient tremor of love. He felt her soft, wet mouth and hot breath against his engorged flesh and groaned deep in his throat, not knowing which part of her he hungered for most. He was drowning in the exquisite pleasure of her touch, lost in a raging sweep of erotic sensation. Her tongue licked at the hair between his legs, igniting a flash of sweet flame that consumed every inch of his body.

The tips of her fingers traced a trail of fire along his inner thighs as her tongue continued to work its breathless magic. Her mouth nearly covered him now, taking him, claiming him, and a shuddering cry escaped him as she matched the rhythm of her mouth to the thrusting of his hips. He moved frantically beneath her, desperate for release as she increased the delicious, agonizing pressure of her mouth. He thought he would lose consciousness if she didn’t stop her exquisite torture, yet his moving hips and his own voice begged her not to.

“You are so beautiful,” she whispered, releasing him for the briefest, most excruciating moment, “so strong…Maximus…the taste of you….”

He groaned her name again and again, a plea, a prayer, an aching cry of explosive, urgent need. His hands tangled in her hair, the silky strands twisting through his fingers. “Lucilla…please,” he cried. “I cannot go on….” In response, her mouth found its way home, and as she covered him again, his hips increased their undulating rhythm. He could feel it coming; he longed for it, begged for it. It had been so long. His heart pounded wildly in his chest and he heard the blood rushing in his ears as she loved the full length of him. All at once, he arched upward and toward her with a single, paralyzing stroke. An unearthly sound, like the roar of a lion, escaped him, a reflection of the animalistic, agonizing pleasure she gave. His mind, his body, his very existence exploded with a shattering force that filled her mouth with the thick, sweet essence of his love.

Kissing him softly, murmuring words of love, she caressed him gently now, allowing his breathing to slow. Finally, she drew her self up to lay alongside him, cradling him against her. Tears welled from the corners of his eyes. He turned his face to hers, his mouth trembling as he pulled her to him and kissed her with unimaginable tenderness. “I had nearly forgotten the exquisite pleasure of physical love,” he murmured against her hair.

Slowly, his hands began to move over her. She moved sensually against him, letting him feel the heat of her own hunger. She watched, her light eyes growing dark with desire, loving the sight of him touching her. A scalding pleasure began to burn its way through her, the flames igniting a desire too long denied.

He began the journey from her lips, down her throat, across her breasts. His hands moved over her, exploring, rediscovering, claiming her, just as he had so long ago. She drew his head to her breasts and whispered, “Your mouth, Maximus….” He took one hardened tip in his mouth, tasting her, and she moaned deeply as his tongue began to move in slow, delicious circles against first one, then the other, and finding its way to the soft hollow between.

He left her breasts and trailed soft, wet kisses across her stomach and abdomen, his tongue giving pleasure that sent her soaring. He lingered in the hair that gathered between her legs and groaned as she opened them. She felt herself unraveling at the touch of his mouth, yearning for, flowing toward his touch. He brushed the tips of his fingers against her waiting flesh, teasing her, drawing ever closer, then pulling away again. At last he allowed his hands to stroke the silky softness now fully exposed, feeling her desire for him in the slick wetness that coated his fingers. She watched in a haze of erotic, hypnotic silence as he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them.

Through eyes half-closed with passion, he looked at her. “Ah…the sweet taste of you….” Her body convulsed as she watched his tongue move over his fingers. “Your mouth, Maximus…,” she whispered for the second time, in a voice that shuddered with need.

“Soon…”

Unable to help herself, she lifted her hips off the bed, arching them toward him, begging for his touch. Once again, his strong fingers began their erotic stroking. She moved feverishly beneath him, lifting herself toward him, again and again, in a pulsing, rhythmic motion. “Maximus…please!” she screamed, torn between ecstasy and agony. She rocked against his hand as he deepened his touch, faster, then slower, then withdrawing so that only the tips of his fingers brushed teasingly against her. She lifted her head in desperation and fell back again, losing control, her enflamed body convulsing beneath his hands, begging him for more.

Suddenly, for one excruciating moment, he stopped, and she screamed in agony. His mouth skimmed along the inside of her thigh, whispering against the satin-soft skin he found there, wetting it with kisses, drawn inexorably to the scent and taste of her. His mouth drew ever nearer, until she should feel the heat of his breath against her.

He whispered her name and claimed her. She cried out as his tongue touched her, moving in circles against her aching flesh. His mouth covered her now, sucking softly, rhythmically, drawing the sweetness of her love. She moved up and against him, wanting more. She gave herself up to him then, allowing the surging, swallowing heat to flame through her, welcoming it, longing for the release it would bring. Pleasure, mind-altering in its intensity, exploded inside her, searing and agonizing, rising like a tide, rolling and swelling. She was coming apart with it, gasping beneath the fire of his touch. The tremors started deep within her, and as they reached a thundering peak, her body convulsed and she released a desperate cry that became his name as her long-denied, tightly-coiled passion unraveled in a writhing spiral of redemption.

She trembled against the feather-like touch of his mouth as his gentle hands eased her back to reality. When her ragged breathing began to slow, he moved alongside her and took her in his arms, kissing her forehead and temples, her eyelids and the tears that glistened against her cheeks. His mouth found hers, and she tasted herself in his kiss. They lay together not speaking for a time, each savoring the warmth and spent passion of the other’s body.

“Maximus…I….” Her voice cracked and she couldn’t go on.

“It grows late,” his whispered against her ear, holding her close. “Rest now. I will keep watch.”

Time stopped and she slept in his arms.

He had almost fallen asleep when he felt her soft, insistent body moving against his. For a moment he forgot where he was…and who he was. Instinctively, he pulled her close, a contented smile playing at the corners of his mouth. She nuzzled against his neck, her tongue licking softly near his ear. She dropped her head to his chest, caressing him with her hand. He ran his hands down her back, his tongue moving to the delicate, sensitive area below her hairline.

He pulled her to him and kissed her slowly and deeply, his hands moving over her, twisting in the soft thickness of her hair. Finally, his mouth left hers and skimmed along the curve of her throat, sucking softly at the hollow where her pulse throbbed.

“I feel your heart…,” he whispered, his voice husky with passion.

“My heart is yours…always….”

He gently kneaded her shoulders, first with his hands, then his mouth, dipping his head toward her breasts, tasting the sweetness of their rigid tips and running his tongue along the moist cleft between them.

He turned her in his arms and moved behind her. He lifted her long curls and left lingering kisses against the back of her neck. Her head fell forward and she groaned softly, deep in her throat. Slowly, his mouth moved downward, tracing tender, wet kisses along the length of her spine, his tongue softly licking its way toward the small of her back. Her eyes closed and she swayed sensually in response to his touch, moving to the slow, seductive rhythm of love, arching her back as she felt the flame of his breath, hot against her skin.

He reached the rounded swell of her buttocks and sucked softly at the small of her back. She shuddered as a swallowing wave of intense pleasure flooded through her. His slightest touch—the briefest brush of his mouth, the most fragile flick of his tongue, the heat of his hands—all were more intensely gratifying and erotic than anything she had ever known. How could she ever have let him go? The truth was, she never had, not in her heart…that has always been his.

Slowly, excruciatingly he ran his tongue up her spine, returning at last to the soft skin at the back of her neck, his mouth nuzzling softly behind her ear. She turned in his arms, her mouth seeking his. She ran her tongue across his lower lip and gently sucked it into her mouth. When she finally released him, he took her hands and slowly moved his tongue across her palms and down each finger to the tip. Slowly, sensually he took each one into his mouth, his eyes never leaving her face.

She wanted him inside her, wanted him to take her, possess her completely. She felt his erection, strong and hard against her, and on the soaring swell of her senses, hovering at the edges of her consciousness, she remembered the feel of him inside her, filling her, lifting her to heights of pleasure and passion she had never forgotten.

He knew her need because it was his own. He pulled her toward him, putting one leg between hers, moving his knee against her. His hand replaced his knee as he kissed her, his gentle fingers stroking her, readying her for his love. Aching for his entry, she opened her legs and his name, breathed more than spoken, escaped her lips.

“Maximus….”

He wanted her with a raging, ravenous hunger that almost frightened him. His hand reached beneath her, pulling her against his undulating hips. She groaned and opened her legs wider, the friction of his insistent hardness driving her mad with the need to have him inside her.

He moved over her, straddling her, and she wrapped her legs around him. Their eyes locked and held as slowly, deliberately he entered. He slid easily because she was so ready and because he had always belonged there.

“At last…,” she whispered, her voice shuddering, “at last….”

They groaned in unison as he slid deeper and deeper, seeking a place of carnal pleasure, finding, too, a home for the heart, a sanctuary for the soul. She tried to speak but the words were imprisoned in her throat, strangling her, lost in a deep yearning cry of ecstasy as he began to move, drawing her with him, keeping the friction where she most hungered for it. They rocked together, slowly at first, reveling in the feel of each other, savoring it, listening to the cadence of their bodies coming together, pulling apart. She moved more feverishly beneath him, matching his increasingly powerful strokes. Still she urged him on, welcoming, answering each thrust with a powerful contraction of her own, wanting more. She used her hands to pull him against her, deeper still. She could feel him throbbing against her womb, and still she wanted more.

“Maximus…Maximus…Maximus….” She whispered his name again and again, a rhythmic, echoing incantation in her ears as she felt herself drowning in the feel of his glorious body moving deep inside her.

“More…,” she urged.

He answered her, his body tuned finely, absolutely to hers. She matched him stroke for stroke and they moved in perfect, erotic harmony, driving each other mad with the sweet anticipation of what was to come. Faster and faster they moved, an ancient dance of love, wild and primitive, dark and light, black and bright. Her arms and legs bound him, held him to this heavenly place, a symphony of skin on skin and flesh in flesh, pulsing, pounding, perfect passion.

Again, his body answered hers, harder and harder, faster and faster, deeper and deeper. He was losing himself, drowning in the sweet ecstasy of that dark, secret place, possessing its pleasure, surrendering to its power.

“More!” she screamed again.

“You’re ready?” he gasped, his voice hoarse and shaking, not his own.

Deeper and deeper he thrust, until she no longer existed apart from him. Higher and higher he lifted her, each surge sweeping her toward an impossible pinnacle of pleasure, each withdrawal plunging her through an aching abyss of agonizing need. Over and over, she climbed and fell, soaring, then plummeting through a twisting tunnel of blinding light, toward sweet oblivion, his body her only reality. Again and again, she called his name.

He answered her with a deep, shuddering thrust that both claimed and released her. She hovered on the brink of consciousness, her body exploding, disintegrating, a fragmented flame of heat and light. Flashes of bright light tore through her head, a whirling, blazing kaleidoscope of color. The pleasure was searing, agonizing in its intensity now, almost unbearable. A long, loud rolling groan shuddered through her and tears welled from her eyes, coursing down her cheeks. One final time, she called his name, wildly, wantonly and, without knowing, cried out for the lifelong desire of her heart.

“Give me a child, Maximus...please…give me our child….”

He felt her shuddering spasms, building, growing, ravishing. They reached out to him, willing, begging his own release. Her warm, sweet flesh wrapped around him, drawing him to the edge of delirium. Her body was a love-enflamed siren, drawing him to the hot, musky depths of her soul, dispossessing him of his own.

The sensations that consumed his body ignited an agony that shimmered amidst white-hot pleasure, an ecstasy so intense and powerful its pulse pounded painfully inside him. A hot blaze of color burst in the blackness behind his eyes, and with one, final convulsive thrust he burst deep inside her, his very existence exploding as he filled her. Her demanding flesh ravaged him, until there was no more, and the sounds of their mutual, shattering pleasure echoed in his ears.

As their breathing slowed and they regained control, she moved the calf of her leg slowly against his, up and down, and murmured soft words of love against his ear. She was full to overflowing. A sated smile played at the corners of her mouth, swollen with his kisses. Unwilling to part from him, she turned slowly, wrapping her legs more tightly around him so that he remained deep inside her.

“I’ll never have enough of you…,” she whispered against his ear.

They lay silently together, wrapped in each other’s arms, a warm, safe place where the dangers they faced became, for a while, only a distant memory. She willed the night to go on, her eyes never leaving his face, drinking him in, wanting to lock every line and plane and shadow forever in her heart. Finally, too soon, cold reality would no longer be denied. Maximus opened his eyes and a fleeting, melancholy smile touched his mouth. He looked down at her with infinite tenderness, but his eyes were dark and resigned and filled with sadness. “It is time, my love….”

By nightfall of the next day, he was gone. As darkness fell, she banished her lady and put out all the lamps. The moon was full and in its shimmering silver light, she undressed herself slowly, her hands trembling uncontrollably at the ribbons of her mourning gown, her tear-stained, ravaged face a reflection of the torment that held her heart. Her son was safe and she was at last free of her brother’s hatred and tyranny, free of his perverse depravity and twisted desire. Her father’s legacy—the dream that was Rome—would now be realized. But at what cost? She knew at the end, as she cradled his head in her lap, that he was ready, eager even, to die. His beloved wife and son waited for him in the afterlife and it was neither her place nor her right to plead with him to stay. As always, he had done his duty—for Rome and for her—and, as his final farewell, he had given her one glorious and unforgettable night of love, a memory she would carry with her all the days of her life. For hours, she lay in the dark, remembering, tears welling from her eyes, streaming down her face to stain the silken pillows of her bed. The palace and the great city below grew silent and at last she slept, dreaming once more the vision that had haunted her nights for as long as she could remember.

He stood at the gate of a glorious stone villa, high on a hill, its walls warmed golden in the late afternoon sun. Jasmine filled the garden and trailed over the high wooden gate. Beyond the house lay gently rolling hills, their slopes covered with trees bearing apples and pears and olives. Beyond that, the road that led to Rome, shimmering in the gathering haze of high summer. His beautiful, extraordinary face spoke to her without words, as it always did, a window to his heart. The strength of his body strained against the cloth of his tunic as he drew in his breath at the sight of her. In front of him, he kept Lucius close…and safe. For the first time she felt their child move inside her and she smiled, placing a gentle, caressing hand against her womb, her eyes never leaving his. He nudged Lucius forward and took a step toward her, opening his arms. Her heart soared as she moved out of the lengthening shadows and into the warm glow of amber light where Maximus waited to welcome her home.

THE END

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