Erotica Harem

MY COMMENTS WILL BE ** RED:
MY SUGGESTIONS WILL BE BLUE
REPEATING WORDS WILL BE underlined and bolded

Title: "Invalid Item"  (Methos and Amethysta)

Chapter: "Invalid Entry"  (Chapter 2)

Author: Dragon, Syphars Child

Plot: Oh, there’s something afoot here, Dragon. You’ve set the plot well with some well defined subtle hints.

Style & Voice: All good and strong here.

Referencing: Roman-like days. You made this adamantly clear with the tunica’s. Don’t forget laced up sandals!

Scene/Setting: I still wanted more of the coliseum. Perhaps I’m just greedy, so you can ignore me.

Characters: The main characters are very strong. The emotional factors between them are shared very well with the reader. I have nothing to add here.

Grammar: See below. Repeating words. Grrrr. I have them too, so don’t feel alone. At least you don’t FORGET words!

Just My Personal Opinion: A great chapter, Dragon. We’re seeing more of the story evolve and there’s something else going on behind the scenes too. For a second chapter, I thought you introduced this very well and early enough to grab a reader’s attention right off the hop.

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Please remember that these are only my opinions.
Please use whatever you feel is right for you.


Chapter 2

Methos opened his eyes to the gray light of dawn. He hadn’t realized he’d slept. The last thing he remembered was rolling away from Amethysta after yet another round of manic (?) lovemaking. A smile tugged at his lips as the memories of last night flitted through his mind. She’s as skilled a lover as she is a warrior. He closed his eyes, wishing for her touch one last time before returning to duty.

Leaning up on his elbow, he caressed her shoulder and traced the scars along her back with his fingertips. He moved his hand to knead her round ass cheek, pressing his body against hers. Slipping his fingers between her legs, he found the hooded treasure he sought. She moaned in her sleep and pressed against his hand. He continued to rub her clit until she was fully awake and rolled over on her back. Opening her eyes, she studied him. A smirk played at the corners of her mouth.

She took his face between her hands and pulled him down. Her lips met his, gentle at first, but growing in urgency. She tugged his bottom lip between her teeth. Moving along his neck, (comma) she nipped his flesh like he’d done to her. Delicious pain sent shivers down his spine.

He rolled over, (comma) pulling her with him. Lacing his fingers through her golden-brown hair, he kissed her. Their tongues met, intertwining, as the kiss grew more passionate. She pulled away from him and he watched as she slid her tongue, running circles around his nipples. (?) down his chest to run her tongue in circles around his nipples. Staring at him, she slid moved lower. Before she reached his dick, he sat up, grabbed her arms and pulled her toward him. “I want you to sit on my cock. and wrap your legs around me (period) Take me deep inside, (?) and take me inside you,” he growled, lost in his own lust. She straddled him, and with a bit of maneuvering, she slid you’ve used “slid” and “slide” above—how about glided (?) her hot, wet pussy around his hard staff.

“Like that?” she whispered in his ear, sending more shivers to run down his spine. Suckling his earlobe, she ground her hips against his. He groaned and placed his hands beneath her ass, savoring the velvety wetness that enveloped him. “Lay back,” she commanded. He did as told. She rode him and he lifted his hips to meet her every thrust. She bucked harder, faster, and after a few moments, she stiffened, crying out. She slumped limply against him.

Rolling them both over, he positioned himself over her. and pushed her …before settling between them., (?) Pushing her legs open with his knee, he settled between them. His rigid cock rested against her moist entrance. He pushed into her, slowly, and slid out to tease her with the head. She came to life again, grasping his arms with her hands. She gasped and moved in perfect rhythm with him. The intensity began to build. He felt it in the base of his balls. as he moved. She met… (?) As he moved, she met every thrust. His groans and cries mingled with hers as he climbed toward his own orgasm. With one final push he came, bursting his seed within her. She trembled beneath him in the throes of her own ecstasy before he rolled over and lay panting next to her.

“You are…amazing.” He rolled over on his side, pulling a strand of sweat-plastered hair from her cheek. She turned to look at him, her face aglow with contentment. Those emerald and gold-flecked eyes seemed to look into his soul. He leaned down and kissed her sweet lips, wishing he could remain here with her forever.

The light coming in the window now bathed the room in a titian glow. Methos sighed. With an ache in his heart, he reluctantly slid (Do a search for “slid” and “slide” and try to get remove some of them with other words) from the bed. He stepped out onto the balcony to stare out over the grounds. His eyes gaze (eyes can’t really trail, can they?) trailed along the path leading back to their quarters and the arena. The sounds of warriors shouting battle cries as they sparred carried back to him, echoing off the huge walls of the coliseum.

“Duty calls. Our dalliance must end,” he announced, letting the cool morning breeze dry the sweat from his body.

“I know.” She spoke directly behind him. He thought she still lounged on the bed. Turning to face her, he found her holding his loincloth. “Let me help you with this.” Her voice was barely a whisper. She fell to her knees and wrapped the T-shaped material around his waist. Her fingers brushed the insides of his thighs when she passed the long strip between his legs, sending goose bumps to rise on his skin. His cock twitched in response. Drawing the soft material up through the piece wrapped about him, she let the remainder cascade down to his thighs. She stood, her eyes met his and he nodded, knowing there was nothing else more (?) to say. He dared no more impetuousness. Decurionis Marcellus would surely not allow such a brazen demand from him again.

He turned and strode to the door, pausing to take one last, long look at her. The next time they met, it would be in the arena. Can you keep your promise, beautiful one? Can I?

He made his way through the secret passage leading back to the men’s bathhouse. Stepping out into the steaming room, he found his friend, Sarrus, waiting.

“Ah, there you are.” Sarrus stood from the edge of the raised pool he rested upon. “She must have been something special to have kept you all night. You’re usually back before the bathhouse empties.” His blue eyes sparkled in the dim light. He looked as though he’d waited for some time. His usually bright red curls were dark with moisture and plastered to his head.

“What’re you dong here, Sarrus?” He didn’t want to talk to anyone right now.

“Marcellus sent me. He wants a word with you.”

Methos clenched his jaw. Now what? (italics for inner thoughts?) he wondered. “Then we best not keep the man waiting.” He stormed ahead of his friend.

“You may want to stop by your quarters and put something more presentable on.” Sarrus’ voice was teasing and Methos knew the man was trying to loosen his intensity.

Nothing about a visit to Decurionis Marcellus left him relaxed. The commander grated on his nerves and there was nothing he could do about it. If he were free, he’d have taken Marcellus’ head long ago--and his position as well.

With Sarrus on his heels, he stopped at home, (comma) and changed into a clean white tunica and strapped a leather belt around his waist. Together, the men made their way to the coliseum to find the Decurionis watching a new batch of fighters training.

Marcellus looked up as they approached. “Ah, Methos, so kind of you to join me. Let’s take a walk.” The man sent Sarrus away with a dismissive wave of a hand. They walked for a short time before Marcellus let the stone drop. “You demanded the warrioress, Amethysta, last night. Care to tell me why?”

Methos drew in a deep breath and let it out. A buzz of adrenaline shot through him as the question settled in his mind. Have I been granted this one wish only to be punished for my audacity? He inhaled again before answering. “First, My Lord, if it’s not too insolent of me, I have a question of my own.” He stared at the shorter, stockier man for a moment. Ice blue eyes bored into him, making him feel uneasy, though he never broke his gaze stare (?) from his superior.

“What is it, then?”

“Why did you let me have her? We are opponents in the arena. You could have easily denied me.”

“Ah, Methos. You are the best of our warriors. The Praetor wants you kept happy. Now, you will tell me why you demanded her specifically. There are other female warriors.”

“None as skilled or as…attractive to me as she is, My Lord.”

“I see. She’ll be a bigger danger in the arena now.”

“My Lord?” Methos frowned.

“Sex can be a powerful weapon. I hope she hasn’t beguiled you.”

He narrowed his eyes at his commander. He didn’t like where this was going. His anger rose. “Nothing in the arena will change between us. If she defeats me, it will be while I’m on my feet with a sword in my hand.”

“Very good. Carry on.” Marcellus strolled away, leaving Methos wondering what in Hades just happened. There’d been no reprimand for being so brazen in his demand to have Amethysta. He stared after the commander, watching as the man trotted down the steps toward the grounds of the arena.

Methos glanced around at the empty stone seats of the coliseum. The smell of sweat and leather carried to him on the breeze. Fighters’ shouts and the clash of swords echoed off the granite. He’d defeated many men on the dirt field below him.

His thoughts returned to Amethysta and their one blissful night together. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away from her for long.


***

Amethysta retrieved her torn gown from the floor and put it on. She stared at the bed. The sight of the tangled, twisted sheets sent flashes of last night through her head. She rubbed a hand down her neck and across her breasts (no comma) as the ache of passion grew between her legs.

Grabbing her cloak from the chair, she hurried out of the room, rushing toward the baths beneath the brothel house. Perhaps a quiet soak would clear her head.

The steam from the hot water concealed many of the women attending the baths this time of morning. Young maids carried towels, bath salts and lotions around the room to the women. Amethysta spotted an empty place away from the others. One of the servants followed her and took her cloak, waiting for her to remove her gown.

“Would you take this and repair it for me?” she asked the girl. The young maid nodded and took the shift from her hand.

“Amethysta? What’re you doing here?” Sabina, a dark haired, mocha-skinned warrioress stepped out from a billowing cloud of steam.

“Sabina.” She only had the strength to nod at the other woman. “I could ask you the same question.” There was surrealism to the morning. After the night she’d spent with Methos, her head and heart just wasn’t in the same mundane world she’d returned to. Sabina’s appearance threw her. She wanted time to bathe and set her mind to the day ahead. She might never lie in Methos’ arms again and she had to prepare herself for that. In a way, she was content that she’d spent the night with him, but in another, (comma) she wished she’d turned and left the room.

“You had a match yesterday. That usually excludes us from the other sort of duty.” Sabina’s eyes narrowed and she stepped closer. Brushing Amethysta’s hair back over her shoulder, the other woman ran a finger down the side of her neck. “What’s this? Whoever he is, he left marks. That tells me he took his time. Who was it?”

“You know I don’t tell, Sabina.” She stepped into the pool without waiting for a reply, sinking to her shoulders in the steaming liquid. Sabina The other woman (?) joined her, sliding beneath the water and popping back up beside her.

“You might not tell me yours, but I will tell you mine.” A wicked smile on the dark woman’s face made Amethysta grin. “Senator Petronis gained another notch on my bed post.”

“Sabina,” she scolded, staring at her.

“Don’t you think that we should gain some power over these men by opening our legs for them?” The other woman’s smile faded and her face became a mask of seriousness.

“With some maybe, but most of those men know their power. They aren’t going to let the pleasure they gain from you override the authority they gain from the making of laws and seeing them enforced.”

“What of Methos?”

Amethysta frowned. A heated blush burned her cheeks and she hoped the steam hid the color blooming there. “What of him?”

“If you could bed him, do you think you could beat him in the arena?” Sabina rubbed her hands through her kinky black hair and returned her gaze to Amethysta, waiting for an answer. “So?”

Why this question now? Does she know? “Sabina, if I were to bed Methos, neither of us could walk the next morning, let alone compete in the arena.” She decided to play along with her. Sabina. Usually she didn’t join in the other women fighter’s discussions over the men they serviced, or the ones they’d like to.

The shocked look on the other woman’s face made her laugh, and before she regained her composure the servant girl returned with her shift. With the rip repaired, she could hardly tell where Methos had torn it from her body. Just the memory made her shiver with pleasure. She hurried out of the water, lest she give anything away to Sabina. Another maid dried her off and the first one helped slip the dress on. She took her cloak from the girl, bid a farewell to Sabina and made her way home.

On the way home, she began to wonder why this happened. Why were we allowed to be together? Surely, the Decurionis knew the danger posed in this. Did Nena know? Had Althius told her it was Methos she’d be spending the night with?

Stepping into the main room of their small quarters, she found her keeper gathering clothing and bedding to take to the laundry. The older woman hummed to herself.

“Good morning, Nena. I have one more for the wash.” She pulled the shift up over her head and tossed the flimsy fabric to her. Nena caught it and dropped it onto the pile of dirty clothes. She bustled into the other room, returning with a belt, (comma) a and dark blue tunica and helped her into it.

“How was your night?” Nena asked, strapping the belt around her waist.

“Fine.” She took a deep breath. Her heart thudded in her chest and adrenaline shot through her veins, but she was going to ask anyway. “Nena, did you know it was Methos that Althius came to claim me for?”

The keeper looked as though she’d been caught stealing from the Praetor himself. She turned away, snatching the basket of clothes from the floor and hurrying toward the door. Amethysta reached out and grabbed her arm. The basket tumbled from her hands, spilling the contents out onto the floor. “Nena, answer me.” For the first time since they were paired as fighter and keeper, she saw fear in the other woman’s eyes. And she was sure it wasn’t because of her.

“I…Althius told me to keep it a secret. I…don’t know why…he mumbled something about Decurionis Marcellus, but I couldn’t understand it.”

Amethysta dropped her hand from Nena’s arm. So, there was a reason we were allowed together. She was right. Their night of pleasure shouldn’t have been allowed. She knew in her heart that she’d never be able to kill Methos, even if she had him on his knees with her sword poised to take his head. What is it they want? There was some merriment afoot and she and Methos were the game pieces. “Go, and take care of the laundry. I need to rest.” Suddenly feeling (?) weary, she moved toward her bed and flopped down, resting an arm over her eyes.

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