Hard Resolution
Lysicles
Though he endeavours often to keep me close to him, there are
times when sensitive affairs of state preclude even my own eyes
and ears from learning certain things that doubtless press heavily
upon Hadrian’s shoulders. When, however, we are later reunited
into each others’ arms, I do my best to help him forget –
if only for a brief respite – the weight of those responsibilities
upon him.
Such is my duty, and it is not one I take lightly. While Hadrian
has made it clear that his sights are set on a lustrous future career
for me, and that he shall do whatever he can to ensure that I achieve
it, I have also made it clear to him that my present concern is
only for his immediate comfort. And so, while I shall work hard
to learn as much as I can from him concerning the business of administering
a civil service, I shall also take pains to unburden him of its
stresses when and wherever I see fit to do so.
It goes without saying that I will not knowingly add to his daily
burden, nor bother him with the trivialities of others’ requests,
petitions, or prayers.
At least, it used to go without saying, for it was always an unspoken
understanding in my brain; something I intuitively knew without
needing to articulate into private thoughts. Perhaps it was the
shock of betrayal at the hands of Mordanticus; the sudden understanding
that, simply by virtue of my proximity to Hadrian, I was in constant
danger of being exploited by unscrupulous others as a tool to access
his ear. That experience had the gradual effect of turning me into
an extremely cautious fellow, to the point where I now find my defensive
walls grown increasingly fortified when in the company of others
– especially if Hadrian is not present.
Thus I was not entirely surprised to find the requests beginning
almost immediately, mostly from those whom I know only casually.
What is far more disappointing to me, however, is the fact that
such petitions have also begun to come from my friends, or, at the
very least, those with whom I have a friendly acquaintance.
The most painful event (for that it has caused the most grief
in me) is the one that transpired a few days ago, in the company
of Cyprias. I had gone to him to replenish my supply of soaps –
both for me personally and for Vitalis who had officially replaced
me as Keeper of Epeius. But I had also gone simply to visit, for
I had not seen Cyprias since my ascension to Favourite and sensed
that he was keen to see and congratulate me.
Indeed, he was quite effusive in his praise, and made clear his
delight and pride in my new position. “No doubt,” he
joked, “a small part of that success is owing to the enjoyment
that Hadrian has consistently had from the fragrant cleanliness
of his horse!”
I laughed, and was very gracious in agreeing with his somewhat
farcical assessment. “May I pleasure you?” he asked
me eagerly. His face was warm and sincere, and the desire in his
eyes was genuine and loving. I thought of Hadrian, and of his schedule.
He was very busy that day: he was at that moment taken on an arduous
inspection of the Guard, and then we both shared the promise of
a long evening of entertaining ahead. I resolved that, in our time
together that night, Hadrian would likely not be in so demanding
a sexual mood as on other, less strenuous days. The result was that
I felt comfortable in my decision to share some pleasures with Cyprias.
“But I will not be entered,” I warned him. “You
may have my thighs: not my arse.” (For I was being cautious
– just in case!)
This to him was quite amenable, and we fell into our familiar
pattern: myself in his mouth to my climax, and then he behind me
to his.
I have always enjoyed the warmth and wetness of capable lips around
me – and it is all the more astonishing an experience when
the mouth into which I am thrusting belongs to a man of stature
above me. Gryllus, Cyprias, and Hadrian have all been such for me.
(Decentius, however, has never taken me into his mouth, for he,
at least, subscribes to the ancient fashion that demands of free
men to abhor it.) Yet from these three, I have learned that rules
are never so rigid as the cocks they would command, and human desires
– expressed in their true and private authenticity –
far outshine the dull and traditional edicts that supposedly govern
them. That is why, though I am freeborn and a citizen of Rome, I
may still have my backside opened and claim in truth to enjoy it.
And that is why, though he is the emperor of the world, Hadrian
may still take me into his mouth and happily swallow what my pleasure
serves up to him. Such are the private exchanges of sensible people
together, who share themselves beyond the glare of public scrutiny.
And I am grateful for that, for it gives me hope that perhaps with
Vitalis I may continue to share pleasures long beyond the end of
our youth.
Cyprias bade me onto one of his tables and I knelt backward, allowing
him to lean over and accept my pulsing rhythm. He enjoyed simply
being for me a receptive hole, and I very much appreciated that
generosity which allowed me to do whatever I wished to arrive at
my pleasure by my own pace and intensity.

Illustration by Shawn Postoff
And then upon that same table I placed my chest, with my feet planted
firmly and close together upon the floor. I felt Cyprias moving
between my thighs; felt his hardness sliding back and forth beneath
my apricots. I retreated a moment into myself, inhaling the fragrance
of the wood that had held so many thousands of bars of soap. Before
long it was over, and I was using one of his rags to wipe the slime
from between my legs.
“I shall buy you lunch,” announced Cyprias as he packed
up my soaps while I dressed. I was suddenly quite hungry, and we
left the shop together into the blinding daylight. To Trajan’s
market we trundled, where he bought for us some skewers of beef,
a half-loaf of bread and a jug of wine. Then we sat by a fountain
and ate. I enjoyed the warmth of the summer sun on my face and the
sensation of ultimate freedom I felt, even in the midst of my ostensible
binds as Favourite to the Emperor of Rome.
“My life is good,” I said to Cyprias – and to
him I’m sure it must have come from out of nothing. He smiled
at me appreciatively. And then he spoke: “Antinous. Such a
fine and generous friend you are to me.” I answered him with
a mouth full of food: “And you to me.” He gazed at me
for a long while, as if thinking for his next words. At last they
fell from his mouth: “Do you enjoy the effects of my soaps
upon your skin?” I nodded eagerly, but added, “Although
there are times when I prefer a more traditional clean as can only
be had by the invigorating scrape of a strigil. But your soaps are
lovely, Cyprias, and certainly have their uses.” He nodded
and thought some more. And then he said, “Do you think there
are others at the palace who might benefit from them?” I tore
at another bite of beef and chomped into it. And then I shrugged.
Cyprias smiled, and continued, “I believe there are. Have
you told them of my shop?” I shook my head, but then qualified,
“I have told my friend, Vitalis, who has taken over my duties
in the stables. I have told him where you are located, and am quite
confident he will be by eventually to replenish the supply.”
Cyprias thought some more, and finally said what was on his mind:
“Long have I believed, Antinous, that it would be a most remarkable
and selfless thing for you to do, if that you would whisper into
Hadrian’s ear of the benefits to him and his court, should
he order for it a continuous supply of my soaps.”
I swallowed the food in my mouth and remained silent. Though the
sun continued to shine, I felt as if a sinster, grey cloud had suddenly
moved in to cover it. The light in my head was dimmed considerably,
and a coldness swept through. It took me some moments to formulate
my words: “I cannot do that, Cyprias.”
“Why not?” he asked, and there was a hint of desperation
in his voice. I answered him, “To exploit my position is to
simultaneously erode it. For I feel in the very depths of my being,
that were I to approach Hadrian with any request – be it ordained
of my own desire or one that is merely transmitted through me–
he would, despite very likely approving it, nevertheless look on
me then as somehow diminished in his eye. And I am resolved that
I will never, so long as I live, wilfully put myself in a place
or position whereat my lover could find himself thinking less of
me.”
His face had darkened while I spoke, and when I was done he stood.
“Idealistic fool!” he spat, and then he stormed away,
leaving me alone at my meal. I sat for a long time in my solitude
as the oblivious people passed by. Was I indeed being idealistic?
Perhaps. But it was an idealism that made immeasurable sense to
me, and one I felt unable to betray. I departed from the square
feeling saddened by the loss of Cyprias, but also fortified in my
determination to protect Hadrian from all such future accosts. In
fact, I immediately went to the temple of Minerva and made an offering
before her idol. I prayed for her strength and assistance in helping
me to maintain my steadfastness in that regard.
Then I marched directly up the Caelian, swept into the paedagogium,
and deliberately interrupted Maltinus at his lessons. He was overjoyed
to see me, and showed me off to his several pupils who were, I suspect,
quite awed by my sudden presence in their school. I looked Maltinus
directly in the eye and said, “Do not ever ask from me anything
that I cannot procure for you without the help of Hadrian. I have
just taken an oath before Minerva herself that I shall never use
my position as Favourite to effect from the hand of Hadrian the
desires of those around me. I am telling you this so that you do
not in future jeopardize our friendship by asking me to break my
promise to the goddess.” Maltinus considered my words carefully
and then nodded in understanding. I kissed him upon the cheek and
then departed.
The same announcement was shortly thereafter made to Decentius
at his post and then, not long after that, in the stables to both
Anaxamenos and Vitalis. And they all agreed without question. Upon
speaking to my contemporaries, I instantly felt better, and allowed
myself to smile. “You are good and noble friends,” I
said. Then I handed Vitalis his supply of soaps and recounted to
them the tale of Cyprias that had led me to such an uncompromising
position.
“It is not idealism,” said Anaxamenos after a thoughtful
moment. “It is, on the contrary, a very shrewd practicality.
You have been chosen because of the pleasures you bring to the Emperor
– not the petitions. Your strategy is a wise one, Antinous,
and I fully support you in it.”
Vitalis nodded firmly: “Me too.”
What a pair of radiant beauties they were, and how my heart for
them swelled! A.
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