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Marcus stuck his head out of the doorway to watch Virgil stomp off down the hall. The older lion shook his head and closed the door. Perhaps he wasn't as good at judging character as his military friends thought. At least Virgil wasn't too timid to get angry even if that anger was misplaced, but now he regretted sending Fabian home early. The former general frowned as he glanced around the lonely room. Marcus noticed the five scrolls left over from Virgil's cargo and... the young hare's subligar, neatly folded, still resting on the shelf where Marcus had carefully placed it. The lion felt his heart thump in his chest as he took the underwear from the shelf, delicately, as one would handle a fragile heirloom. Marcus felt heat rise to his ears and the thickening of his shaft. He couldn't deny that he was attracted to Virgil; from the moment the hare had entered the recruitment office, Marcus had, perhaps ironically, been charmed by his awkward demeanor.

The lion sat on the table, pouring some oil from one of the jugs on the stool into his other hand. He brought the enticing cloth to his nose and gripped his swiftly growing erection with his oil-smeared palm. Marcus stroked gently at first, taking slow deep breaths through his nose to bask in the young hare's crotch scent. He let himself fall backwards onto the table, planting his feet on the edge to get better leverage. The subligar rested on his nose as he took deep inhaling breaths and exhaled through his mouth. The former general clenched his slick fist around his throbbing shaft as he pulled back his foreskin with a steady rhythm. His free hand rubbed his belly and chest, squeezing his right nipple between thumb and forefinger. A rumbling moan escaped his lips as he closed his eyes and lost himself to the scent and pleasure. His hand stopped moving and his hips began thrusting upward through his tightly closed fist. His moans were muffled as they slipped through his tightly clenched teeth between hissing breaths. His hand- No, Virgil's tight rear end- slapped against his sack with each thrust, and the hare's own balls bumped into Marcus's stomach. The general's tongue pushed into Virgil's mouth as their chests rubbed together, the hare's erection throbbing hotly against the lion's taut abs. Virgil pinched the older lion's nipple fiercely as he sat back up and roughly rode Marcus's pulsing and dripping phallus.

"Yes, Virgil-!" Marcus gasped as the hare erupted his essence onto the older lion's stomach and chest.

Marcus tried to stifle the roar that escaped his lips as he came, thick ropes of his semen painting his golden fur white. He loosened his grip slightly, but that made his erection jerk even more, launching two spurts of his cream onto his face and the young hare's briefs. Marcus's ears burned dark red as he pulled the underwear from his nose and his orgasm finally cooled off. His muscular chest heaved in the afterglow while his body slumped against the cool wood of the table.

Gods above-! he thought.

Marcus hadn't had a fantasy so vivid in years, but in the end, that's all it was. If Virgil didn't share his lust, there was no chance that they would ever be together. Marcus smirked as he reached over to the stool to get a towel. From the way the hare had been staring at his manhood, though...

The door to the room suddenly creaked open and an otter bathhouse servant stopped wide-eyed in his tracks. Behind the otter stood a well proportioned horse, probably near Marcus's age, but Marcus was in no way decent. His still semi-erect member lay throbbing on his stomach and his fur was obviously matted from semen. The lion swiftly covered himself, the heat of embarrassment rushing to his ears as he forced a look of stern annoyance at the otter. The horse lifted an eyebrow, as the smaller bathhouse attendant fumbled over an apology.

"F-forgive me, sir! I didn't know this room was occupied." He stammered as he turned toward his client, "Please, follow me-"

The horse's body turned to follow as the door closed, but his eyes remained locked on Marcus's body until the wood of the door blocked his sight. Marcus grumbled as he finished wiping himself off with the spare towel he had brought for Virgil.

The rest of the lion's time spent in the baths was terribly ordinary. A few of the other men lounging in the atrium recognized him, and they shared a short conversation about politics and the affairs of the city. They weren't poor conversationalists, but Marcus soon found himself distracted. When thoughts of Virgil came creeping back into his mind, the older lion excused himself from the group and quickly retreated to the changing area.

***

The sun was setting as the lion made his way up the dirt path to his villa. He had wasted the entire day at the baths, but it was the duty of every Roman according to Hadrian's new holiday. The villa itself had been built by Emperor Trajan specifically for the leonine general, as compensation for his military service, even though Marcus hadn't known Trajan personally. Auburn light washed the walls in orange that cascaded into darker hues above the creeping shadows at the base of the building. As Marcus neared the door of his home, he abruptly felt earth underneath his left toes. On closer inspection, the toe area of the sole of the shoe had completely folded under, leaving his toes exposed to the rough gravel of his walkway. The lion grumbled as he removed the broken boot and carried it the rest of the way through the entrance.

Fabian greeted him at the door as he usually did and Marcus smiled pleasantly at him. The snow leopard had been in Marcus's service since he had left the army, and over the years the lion had come to view Fabian more like a friend than a servant. However, he had a penchant for being overly cautious, particularly around the aspect of hiring new help.

"I trust the baths were entertaining enough?" Fabian asked.

"Nothing happened," Marcus replied. "I offered him apprenticeship and he turned it down."

Fabian's ears flicked to the side briefly. "Are you sure you want to spend the money to take an apprentice at this time?"

Marcus chuckled. "The cost wasn't a thought that crossed my mind. I was merely trying to help the boy."

He shucked his right boot and dropped the broken left one in the entryway, while Fabian closed the door behind him. Marcus looked up at the leopard in time to see his nostrils flare and his left eyebrow arch upward accusingly.

"Merely trying to help?" Fabian parroted. "Is that all?"

Marcus felt the rush of embarrassed heat reaching his ears as he realized he hadn't actually washed himself after toweling off. He probably had the stink of dry semen on him for the entire day. Aside from the immediate shame, it was a slightly tantalizing thought that the other men he had conversed with at the baths had probably smelled his potent essence as well. The scandalous prospect made the lion's heart thump in his chest, and his arousal was quickly returning. Fabian's eyes narrowed at him after Marcus didn't immediately respond and Marcus shook himself out of his fantasy.

"I may have pleasured myself after Virgil left, but I swear he and I did nothing," Marcus said.

"Good. I would hate to think that your claims of trying to help him were deceitful attempts to cover up your selfish desires, sir."

The tone of Fabian's last word stung like a knife. Marcus couldn't deny his lust for the young hare, and maybe he had been too hasty to offer Virgil apprenticeship. But it was pointless now. The offer was refused, and Marcus hadn't achieved his renown on the battlefield by chasing after 'what ifs.' Though, he did seem to have an awfully difficult time forgetting the boy.

"Thank you for your honest council, Fabian," the lion replied with a smile. "It is always appreciated."

Fabian nodded. "I only wish what is best for you, sir," he said. "Coincidentally, I believe Brutus will have dinner prepared shortly, and your guest from Egypt is already- ah- 'enjoying' himself in the lounge."

"Oh, of course he is," Marcus said sarcastically. "His arrival was today, was it?" He had forgotten all about the Egyptian's visit!

The lounge sat in his way between the entry hall and his personal washroom. Marcus would have preferred to avoid meeting Cassius, his Egyptian guest, before he washed off the scent of himself, but it couldn't be helped. Titus Cassius Taurus was a bull, a former Roman soldier from a wealthy family, and currently in the employ of one of Marcus's closest friends. That friend was an immensely successful merchant who owned several lucrative trade routes between Rome and various cities along the Nile River.

As Marcus walked down the hall, he gave his chest a cursory sniff and winced at how obvious the scent was. It was frankly a wonder that he hadn't noticed it sooner and rather insulting that no one else at the baths had at least mentioned it to him privately. He took a deep breath and entered the lounge. It was a relatively small room in comparison to the other rooms in the villa, but that just made it feel more cozy. Couches sat around the room, positioned so that the seated guests could converse with one another in comfort. The rest of the room held several potted plants and an elegant Roman chess board fashioned out of wood and tile.

Cassius was reclining on one of the couches in the room and clutching a glass of wine in his fist. The bull was decently muscled, as he had been in the Roman Military, with short, brown fur all over his body. A diamond spot of white fur could be seen through the folds of linen cloth, a traditional Egyptian garment, that covered half of his broad chest. A single layer of the garment was draped over his right shoulder and the white linen was tied around his waist with a cord belt, similar to a Greek toga. The linen was folded several times about his waist, preventing that area of the clothing from being transparent. Cassius had twinkling brown eyes, though Marcus couldn't be sure if they always did that or if it was a side effect of the wine.

Upon seeing Marcus, Cassius stood on wobbly feet and held out his hand, grinning broadly. "Quintus! Great to see you!" he said, affectionately using his friend's first name.

The former general crossed the room and returned the smile as he firmly gripped the tipsy bull's palm. Cassius abruptly sat back down on the couch.

"You as well, Titus. How was your journey to Rome?" Marcus asked with a cheery tone.

Cassius waved a dismissive hand in front of his face. "Abysmal," he said, the smile quickly turning to a grimace. "Long desert voyages don't suit me."

Marcus kept his grin, "They never did when you were in the service, either."

The bovine snorted and took a sip from his glass as Marcus sat on the couch next to him and reclined on his left side, as was Roman custom.

"Truth be told," Cassius said. "I don't mind the trip as long as it means a hot bath and good meal follows."

Marcus chuckled, "Well I can promise you the meal, but you and I will have to wait until after that to get our baths."

Cassius flashed the lion a cheeky grin. "Yes, it smells like you could use one, old friend, but don't misunderstand, I don't mind it at all. The masculine scent suits you."

Marcus couldn't stop the rush of embarrassed heat that filled his ears and he tried to shrug it off instead. "You know, I didn't intend to return home smelling like a brothel, but-"

"Oh no, of course not." Cassius interrupted. "You smell much better than one." That cheeky grin never left the bull's face and he slipped in a wink for good measure.

"But," Marcus continued. "I was rather distracted by other matters and forgot all about washing."

"No doubt they were very tantalizing other matters."

The lion watched as Cassius polished off his wine, debating with himself whether he wanted to expend the effort to put the bull in his place for teasing. He couldn't deny that Cassius was attractive, but there was the matter of his employer.

"I assume Atum has you on a rather short leash on this visit," he said.

Cassius sighed reluctantly, "Unfortunately, you are correct," he replied. "No lascivious contact allowed I'm afraid, but that doesn't mean I can't be coy, sniff, or stare."

"Be careful with that behavior. There are some in the city that take such teasing as an open invitation."

Cassius nodded, "Of that I am well aware. I hadn't been planning on flaunting myself to every male that walked the streets of Rome."

Marcus chuckled softly. "How did you survive at all in the military with that libido of yours?" he asked. Cassius shrugged and replied only with another broad grin. Fabian appeared at the door shortly after.

"Sirs, dinner is prepared," the snow leopard said.

Marcus and Cassius stood and made their way into the triclinium, or dining room. He and the bull sat on two of the couches in the tiled room, and reclined as they had before. There was a small wooden table between them and Brutus, the large, brown, bruin chef, placed a plate in front of each of them. Marcus received a plate of meat. Cassius received a plate of leafy greens, some cooked, some raw.

"Thank you, Brutus," Cassius said. "This looks lovely!"

"My pleasure, sir," the bear replied in a deep bass voice as he returned to the kitchen area to eat his own meal.

"How long has Brutus been with you?" the bull asked after the bear was gone.

"This is his third year," Marcus said.

"What a fine chef he is, Quintus," Cassius said, practically salivating. "You are most lucky to have him in your kitchen."

"I shall tell him you said as much."

Cassius began devouring his greens as if he hadn't had food in months.

"So tell me," the lion continued, "what brings you to Rome this time? Atum's letter was not specific."

"Nothing so serious as to require my master's presence in person," Cassius said. "There was a minor dispute against one of the trade regulations Master Atum put in place on his route to Cairo. The only potential issue is, the one disputing the regulation is a Roman senator."

Marcus nodded, "That is slightly troubling, but I have the utmost faith in your diplomatic abilities," he said.

Cassius winked again. "I'll let you know if I have need of your... persuasive talents in the senate," he said.

Marcus rolled his eyes in response. The two finished their meal in silence and quickly retreated to Marcus's personal bath afterward. They bathed thoroughly, and though the former general enjoyed the opportunity to admire the bull's well-built frame and above-average endowment, his mind kept drifting back to an image of Virgil naked and on his knees in front of him.

"Titus, may I ask you something?" Marcus said as the two were toweling off.

"Of course. Fire away!" the bovine cheerfully replied.

"Do you think I should take on an apprentice?"

The bull shrugged as he idly rubbed the diamond shape of white fur on his chest. "That is almost entirely up to you, my friend," he said.

Marcus frowned and ran a hand through his mane. "How would I know when I've found the right man to accept?"

Cassius's expression turned serious. "This isn't actually about apprenticeship, is it?"

The older lion shrugged and silently continued drying himself.

"If you want my honest advice, Quintus, here it is," Cassius said. "Do as Master Atum did when we first met. Never stop pursuing the one you desire, if your desire truly runs deeper than mere lust."

Marcus snorted. "And what if one doesn't know what type of desire this is?"

Cassius put a firm hand on the lion's shoulder and squeezed. "Then find him again and figure that out. Do you think I agreed to serve Master Atum on our first meeting?"

"Well... I'm sure he took you to bed during your first meeting," Marcus teased.

"You would be correct, but I know I'm not the only one he charmed at first glance," Cassius chided as he poked Marcus in the ribs with an elbow.

Marcus and the bull left the personal bath cheerfully laughing, and retired to their bedrooms. All humor drained out of the lion as soon as the door closed and he slid beneath the thin linen sheets. He lay there in the dark, staring up at the ceiling and rolling his old friend's words around in his mind. It was foolish. He had only met Virgil two days ago and here he was, fantasizing about the young hare as if Virgil was his first love. Marcus rolled over, but Morpheus refused to visit him, so he sighed into his pillow. Cool night air drifted over him as he mulled over Cassius's words in his head. His physical desire for Virgil was obvious, but possibly not as obvious to the hare himself. Maybe Marcus should follow his friend's advice. Perhaps he just needed to meet Virgil once more to determine if the young hare was worth pursuing.

Marcus scoffed at himself. He had never been very practiced when it came to matters of desire; it was more intimidating than an entire enemy regiment marching toward him. But, if he was to figure out how much Virgil actually meant to him, then he would have to at least try. The hare's father was a cobbler, wasn't he? At least Marcus would have an appropriate excuse for visiting him tomorrow. The lion's eyes finally drooped and he was swept away into the dreaming black of night.