"Hmph," Sagon snorted. He looked around the room, automatically noting where every piece of furniture was, as well as the two doorways. One, he knew, led out to the corridor, and the other must lead to a bathing room or such. Lio's stomach growled again, and Sagon was reminded of the young man that stood beside him. Turning his attention back to Lio, Sagon noted with satisfaction that the boy had not dropped to his knees again, but was still flushed with embarrassment.

"I'm hungry," Sagon said, although in reality he had little appetite. He had not eaten much since his long illness, and knew his appearance was becoming gaunt. Sagon tried to remember why he cared. But he suspected that the slave would not eat unless his Master did, or unless he commanded it.

Lio flashed Sagon a look from beneath lowered lashes, very long lashes, Sagon noted. His look said quite plainly that he knew what Sagon was up to, and was willing to play the game. In fact, he had to play the game. It was his life.

"I thought you might be," Lio answered in a perfectly correct voice. "I took the liberty of ordering a light lunch for you. If you will follow me," he walked gracefully toward the table and chairs. Sagon followed, taking the chair that Lio indicated.

To his surprise, Lio knelt beside the chair, instead of sitting in the other chair that was surely more comfortable than the floor. The poor boy's knees must be getting sore by now. Sagon stared as the young man, totally naked and vulnerable to him, kneeling at his side.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Sagon asked.

Lio looked up at him in frank curiosity. "Have you ever had a slave before?"

"No, I haven't," Sagon said, almost defiantly. Men such as he did not waste their time on pleasure slaves, even if they had the money. They took comfort where they could, with a willing lass at an inn or a companion in the field. Or with their wives if they had one, on the rare times when they were home. But he did not say any of this aloud.

"As my Master," Lio ignored Sagon's grunt of protest and continued, "you always eat first. I may only eat when you give me permission. After you have finished, you may allow me to eat what is left. Some Masters enjoy feeding me from their own hand, while I kneel at their feet, or after I have serviced them. Some prefer to withhold food completely, using it as a reward for my performance."

Sagon stared at Lio in surprise. That he had given Sagon his options in such a normal tone of voice somehow made his situation seem that much worse. People really did this? Treated these poor slaves this way? Lio lowered his eyes from Sagon's expression, and Sagon realized he had frightened the boy again. He thought for a moment, eyes narrowed.

"So, I am your Master, am I?" he clarified.

"Yes, M… Sagon."

"You have to do whatever I say?"

"Yes, Sagon."

"Then I want you to get up here and sit in this chair like a civilized human being. I told you I hate all that kneeling crap. From now on, no kneeling. Get up here and get something to eat, that noise from your stomach is starting to get on my nerves."

Lio almost, almost, smiled as he rose to his feet. Suddenly, it was very important to Sagon that he see that smile, that he be the cause of it. For the first time, in a very long time, he wanted to make someone else happy.

Settling into the chair after only a brief hesitation, Lio sighed in comfort. He had never been invited to sit at the table and eat with a Master before. But Sagon had commanded, and he was bound to obey. He had imagined this, countless times; sitting here with someone else, someone not a page or staff member, and talking together like real friends.

Lio naturally had a generous, outgoing, fun-loving personality. But recent events had subdued him somewhat, and he felt acutely self-conscious with this Master for some reason. The man seemed so cold and forbidding, but yet Lio had seen flashes of warmth. He wished he knew what role to take with this one.

Many of his Masters before had preferred to let Lio take the lead. They had allowed Lio to give them pleasure after pleasure, from a steaming hot bath to a bone melting massage; from wild, abandoned dancing ending in frenetic coupling to slow, sensual movements that ended up with the same frantic activity.

Some Masters had taken control right away, all but ordering Lio's every move. They knew exactly what they wanted, and exactly how they wanted it. But this man sitting across the table was a puzzle to Lio. He couldn't read Sagon, couldn't tell what he wanted. Maybe Sagon did not even know, himself.

Lio felt a small tremor of fear. If he could not read his Master, could not anticipate his wishes, how could he ever satisfy him? And if he couldn't satisfy him, then he would leave. Just like all the others.

Sagon's voice broke into his thoughts, and Lio started as he realized he had been ignoring his Master.

"You're not eating," Sagon said gently. He had felt a small thrill of pleasure when Lio almost smiled, then noticed the change that had come over Lio. He had settled into the chair easily enough, but instead of digging into the food as any healthy, hungry, young man should, had lowered his head, a melancholy expression on his face.

Now Lio's head snapped up, a look of shame and regret fleeing his eyes. A hint of mischief replaced that look, and Sagon felt that small flutter in his stomach again. "Neither are you," Lio replied, impudently.

Sagon almost laughed. If allowed, he thought, this boy could have spirit. Instead, he allowed a wry smile to lift on corner of his mouth and nodded his head ever so slightly in Lio's direction. "You are right," he conceded. He picked up a piece of cheese and began to chew. Even though he was not really hungry, the cheese had a delicate taste, and he found that he enjoyed it.

Lio had selected a piece of cheese also, along with a slice of juicy apple. While Sagon ate his cheese, he watched Lio watching him. The boy still seemed somewhat apprehensive, but he had relaxed quite a bit. When he was finished, Lio reached out for a slice of meat, hesitating when he saw that Sagon was not eating anything else.

Sagon sighed and reached for some meat himself, along with a soft roll.

"This is quite good on the bread," Lio said, pointing to a small bowl with some type of spread. "Like this." Lio picked up a roll and pulled it apart. He got the flat knife and smeared some of the spread on then folded it around the slice of meat.

Sagon tried it and found it to be delicious, but after a few bites he put the roll back down. He just wasn't hungry. He felt old, old and tired, used up. He looked over at Lio again. He felt sorry for the youth, locked up in these rooms for who knew how long.

But then again, he flashed back to the faces of all the dead boys he had left in the field. Some he had killed himself in a variety of ways. Some had served under his command, indeed, had served under his body, and he under theirs; only to die in one of the many ways a man could die in battle. None of them pretty or romantic.

Lio had finished his meat and bread and was preparing another roll when he noticed that Sagon was no longer eating. Since Sagon had told him it was all right, Lio continued to eat, but watched the older man. Sagon was looking off into a distance Lio could never see.

Lio selected a large strawberry and held it out to his Master. "These seem a little sour, what do you think?"

Sagon looked at the strawberry, then at Lio. Lio held his gaze steady even though he could tell that the other man's mood had changed once again.

"Don't play games with me. I'm much too old for that," Sagon snapped.

Lio didn't hesitate. He immediately snapped back. "Then you are also old enough to know that you need to eat." When Sagon stared at him in surprise, Lio lowered his eyes, the looked back up at his Master. "Besides, you're not that old," he said in a much lighter voice.

Sagon just snorted at him, fingering the food. He was old, and he knew it. He had read a report one of the queen's scholars had prepared. He knew that the average life of a soldier was between four and six years. Most boys who joined at sixteen would be dead by the time they were twenty-two. The field officers, such as himself, could expect to live into their early thirties. That put Sagon, at thirty-five, almost at the limit of his allotted time.

Only the most senior officers, the commanders and generals who directed the armies from behind the lines, had any hope of living to the ripe old age of fifty or even sixty. Although Sagon was a skilled fighter and respected leader, he did not have the family connections for a promotion to those exalted heights. He was old. He felt old.

"I just… can't eat," he finally confessed. "Not since… well, not for awhile." Sagon looked away from Lio's gaze.

Even though Sagon had told him not to, Lio rose from the chair and went to kneel in front of Sagon. He put his hands on the other man's thighs, looking earnestly up into his face. Very lightly, Lio ran his hands up and down Sagon's legs as he began to speak.

"Sagon, you are tired and weary. Anyone can see that who looks at you. You are hurting, inside and out. I don't know why, but I wish you would tell me. If you don't want to talk about it, at least let me provide you some comfort."

Lio stared into the dark gray eyes above his. "When you come into this room, you lock the world outside away. For now, while you are here, there is only you and me. When you leave…" the boy's voice broke for an instant, then he was back in control. "When you leave, all your secrets leave with you. This I swear on my very soul."

Sagon closed his eyes, letting the warm touch of Lio's hands on his legs reach through the barrier of pain he had erected. "Gods' truth, Lio, I am so very tired."

"Then rest. Just let yourself go for this short time we have. Let me watch over you." Lio's pleading voice touched something deep within Sagon, and he clenched his eyes shut tight to prevent the tears from falling. Numbly, he nodded his head.

Lio let out his pent up breath, lowering his head onto Sagon's lap for a moment. He felt as if he had just fought and won a battle. Lio rose and poured Sagon a glass of wine. "Why don't you drink this, and have another piece of cheese, while I go run you a bath."

Sagon did as he had been instructed. Hell, what a pathetic creature he was! He didn't even have the strength of mind to command a slave. Instead, he was sitting here taking orders from one. But, in truth, he felt completely drained. He just didn't care anymore what anyone else might think of him. Least of all a slave.

In a few minutes, Lio came back out and led Sagon into the huge bathing room. More out of habit than interest, Sagon looked around. The main feature was the large, deep pool, filled with subtly scented water. There were cabinets on one side containing large towels, and shelves holding various colored bottles and jars. Over in one corner was a large padded table.

While Lio stripped his remaining clothes from him, Sagon wondered how long had it been since anyone had cared about him? Had been really, truly concerned with his needs or wants? Not that he thought Lio truly cared, he was just doing what he had been trained to do. But still, the illusion would be nice for a few days; that someone only wanted what Sagon wanted, and nothing else.

Lio gasped as he saw his Master's nude body for the first time. The man was tall, strong, and broad, the muscles clearly defined beneath his skin. But it was his skin that caught and held Lio's attention.

The soldier was covered in scars. Now Lio understood why the faint white lines across his hand and up his arm were not abhorrent to Sagon. In fact, his injury must have been trivial to a man such as this. Lio was ashamed that he had made such a fuss over showing Sagon. In particular, Lio noted the deep purple mark on the back of Sagon's leg. From the depth and severity of the scar tissue, it must have been a deep, nasty wound, only recently healed.

Lio held out his hand to steady Sagon as he stepped into the tub. Sagon turned his head at the gesture, staring intently into Lio's eyes. He wasn't sure what he read in Sagon's gaze, whether it was scorn or gratitude; or perhaps a mixture of both.

Sinking into the hot water, Sagon hissed a bit as it hit some of his more sensitive parts. He turned a glare on Lio, who was grinning at him. "You'll get used to it," the impudent slave said. In a moment, Lio had slipped into the water behind him and started rubbing his skin lightly with a soapy sponge.

Sagon grunted in pleasure at the smooth even strokes. He found himself twisting and stretching as Lio scrubbed every inch of his back. As much as he hated to admit it, Sagon felt that Lio had been right. He found himself relaxing for the first time in weeks, allowing tense muscles to loosen.

"May I do your hair, Sagon?" Lio asked. Sagon just nodded, and felt Lio's nimble fingers undoing the warrior's knot, letting his dark hair fall down around his shoulders. "Close your eyes," Lio warned, pouring the hot water over Sagon's head. In a moment, he felt the almost unbearable luxury of gentle pressure massaging his scalp. Sagon almost purred as the sensation continued, then Lio warned him again to close his eyes.

When his hair was clean and rinsed off, some type of mildly spiced oil was poured over his head and worked through his hair. Then Lio pulled Sagon back to the side of the tub and settled him in a comfortable corner. Lio began to wash his front just as gently as he had his back. He moved across Sagon's chest, down his stomach, and on to his legs.

Lio smiled to himself as he washed the other man's back. He had been right; this was exactly what Sagon needed. He took his time over the dark hair, working some oil in to it to restore the shine and body. When he was done with Sagon's back, he pulled and pushed the lax body to one corner of the tub, pleased with the look of contentment of Sagon's face. Lio gently cleaned his front, then worked his way down Sagon's legs.

Finished with that task, Lio rubbed some of the soap on his hand and carefully reached down between his Master's legs. Lio tenderly washed the flaccid cock, feeling it stir only slightly at his touch. He moved on to work the lather around Sagon's balls and back along the crack of his ass, not trying to rouse his Master any further. When Sagon was ready for more, he would know.

Lio turned and quickly washed himself, then climbed out of the tub. He pulled out a thick towel and held out his hand for Sagon to hold on to as he climbed from the tub. Sagon stood patiently while Lio dried him off, steadying himself with a hand on Lio's shoulder as he lifted each foot in turn to be patted.