Ficlet: The Longing, Prompt # 4 - Hovel
Aug. 5th, 2006 10:12 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
strickens-girl.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
tamingthemuseSqueezing this in under the deadline...I hope. *g*
Title: The Longing
Fandom: BtVS
Prompt: #4 - Hovel
Pairing: None
Character: William (Spike)
Rating: Teen
Spoilers: None. All human AU
Warnings: Prostitution.
Author's Note: This ficlet is based on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
sexymermaid's wonderful Spander story, The Pleasure Slave. Basically, set in ancient Rome, William is a pleasure slave to Xander's Roman Soldier. A beautiful tale of pain and love. Special thanks to Jan for letting me play in her sandbox.
The Longing
William sat in his tiny room, looking out his tiny window, longing for something more.
He hated this place. It was less of a room than it was a hovel. His new home was simply three stone walls and a sheet for a door. One insignificant window gave the boy his only view of the outside world. He'd been told that he had brought this upon himself, by fighting, by refusing to submit.
But he'd not brought this upon himself; he had been forced into this life by the Roman soldiers who had ripped him away from his homeland and all he knew to come to this new life. It was the life of a pleasure slave, one he was told was a privilege but he knew the true meaning of slave. The pleasure was not his and, for most, he was nothing more than a pretty vessel for them to spill within.
Looking out onto the dry, dusty street, William sighed, aching for his homeland. He missed the babbling brooks and the green fields. He longed to sleep in the forest and commune with the ancient trees that provided shelter and safety.
This place, this civilization saddened William's soul. Grass and soil was replaced by dirt and stone. Trees and streams were gone, traded for streets and aqueducts. He missed the lands were nature spoke and people listened.
Here, nothing spoke to him, nothing except the mountain. Vesuvius.
And it was whispering terrible things.
As William gazed out at the hot and dusty road, he spied a man walking alone. William had seen this particular man before and was intrigued. Today, he wore the helmet of a Roman soldier but the young boy already knew that the man was a warrior. The way he held himself, the way he watched the streets for any signs of danger told William that this man knew battle, had seen and delivered pain. But he walked as if his entire body hurt and ached, not just with physical pain, but as if a profound sorrow penetrated his every bone.
William had watched him struggle as he limped down the dusty streets, leaning heavily of his walking stick, pain etching lines of a great sadness on the tanned skin of his face. He couldn't understand why he never had an attendant or someone help him to make his way easier.
A warrior such as this should be honored and attended to with caring and gratitude, not shunned and ignored. Watching this warrior made William's heart ache.
The man stumbled, wrenching his leg in a rut in the road. As William watched, the warrior sat down heavily on a bench on the side of the road. No one noticed. No one cared.
The young boy's fingers twitched, aching to rub and dig at the sore, painful flesh. He wanted to go to the man and help take his pain away. Looking at the face of the warrior, he wanted to do something, anything to remove sorrow from his soul.
William felt drawn to the lonely man, as if he had found a kindred spirit in this proud warrior. The man turned, looking toward the brothel and William hoped he was coming to find some pleasure. Maybe the warrior would choose his crib and William could give him his due pleasure.
But a warrior such as that would never come to William, would never soil himself by entering the hovel the boy called home. But the young boy sent up a silent prayer to the gods that he refused to abandon that someday, a warrior would come to him and release him from his slavery.
~~~The End~~~
Title: The Longing
Fandom: BtVS
Prompt: #4 - Hovel
Pairing: None
Character: William (Spike)
Rating: Teen
Spoilers: None. All human AU
Warnings: Prostitution.
Author's Note: This ficlet is based on
sexymermaid's wonderful Spander story, The Pleasure Slave. Basically, set in ancient Rome, William is a pleasure slave to Xander's Roman Soldier. A beautiful tale of pain and love. Special thanks to Jan for letting me play in her sandbox.William sat in his tiny room, looking out his tiny window, longing for something more.
He hated this place. It was less of a room than it was a hovel. His new home was simply three stone walls and a sheet for a door. One insignificant window gave the boy his only view of the outside world. He'd been told that he had brought this upon himself, by fighting, by refusing to submit.
But he'd not brought this upon himself; he had been forced into this life by the Roman soldiers who had ripped him away from his homeland and all he knew to come to this new life. It was the life of a pleasure slave, one he was told was a privilege but he knew the true meaning of slave. The pleasure was not his and, for most, he was nothing more than a pretty vessel for them to spill within.
Looking out onto the dry, dusty street, William sighed, aching for his homeland. He missed the babbling brooks and the green fields. He longed to sleep in the forest and commune with the ancient trees that provided shelter and safety.
This place, this civilization saddened William's soul. Grass and soil was replaced by dirt and stone. Trees and streams were gone, traded for streets and aqueducts. He missed the lands were nature spoke and people listened.
Here, nothing spoke to him, nothing except the mountain. Vesuvius.
And it was whispering terrible things.
As William gazed out at the hot and dusty road, he spied a man walking alone. William had seen this particular man before and was intrigued. Today, he wore the helmet of a Roman soldier but the young boy already knew that the man was a warrior. The way he held himself, the way he watched the streets for any signs of danger told William that this man knew battle, had seen and delivered pain. But he walked as if his entire body hurt and ached, not just with physical pain, but as if a profound sorrow penetrated his every bone.
William had watched him struggle as he limped down the dusty streets, leaning heavily of his walking stick, pain etching lines of a great sadness on the tanned skin of his face. He couldn't understand why he never had an attendant or someone help him to make his way easier.
A warrior such as this should be honored and attended to with caring and gratitude, not shunned and ignored. Watching this warrior made William's heart ache.
The man stumbled, wrenching his leg in a rut in the road. As William watched, the warrior sat down heavily on a bench on the side of the road. No one noticed. No one cared.
The young boy's fingers twitched, aching to rub and dig at the sore, painful flesh. He wanted to go to the man and help take his pain away. Looking at the face of the warrior, he wanted to do something, anything to remove sorrow from his soul.
William felt drawn to the lonely man, as if he had found a kindred spirit in this proud warrior. The man turned, looking toward the brothel and William hoped he was coming to find some pleasure. Maybe the warrior would choose his crib and William could give him his due pleasure.
But a warrior such as that would never come to William, would never soil himself by entering the hovel the boy called home. But the young boy sent up a silent prayer to the gods that he refused to abandon that someday, a warrior would come to him and release him from his slavery.
~~~The End~~~
