"Don't say anything," Vorenus snapped, letting Pullo slide down to the ground, back against the undressed cement wall.

Pullo wouldn't have dreamt of saying anything-- he wasn't sure he could, for one thing. He had no idea where they were or exactly how he'd come to be in this dark alley with Lucius Vorenus by his side again, blazing hot and sweaty and smelling of blood and the Legion and life.

"Mmmrf--"

"I told you to shut up, Pullo!" Vorenus kicked something away and then knelt next to Pullo. Pullo knew Vorenus was leaning over him because the light wasn't quite so painfully bright. His eyes wouldn't open very far.

"Idiot," Vorenus hissed. Pullo wondered who he was talking about. Then he felt a wet cloth touch the side of face, wiping carefully. Then his eyes, then his mouth, always very carefully.

"Wha--"

"Don't. Talk. Maybe ever again." Fine. Pullo felt like he could handle that at the moment. But he tried to force his eyes open, to look at Vorenus. "Shh." But Vorenus' tone had lost the harshness. He put his fingers over Pullo's mouth, to keep it closed.

Pullo's mouth was swollen and bleeding. He knew this because of the excruciating pain Vorenus was causing by pressing his fingers there.

"Caesar is going to kill us this time," Vorenus whispered. Pullo wished Caesar would hurry up about it, then. He could feel Vorenus' breath on his face, hear him swallow. "Just--"

Pullo held very still. Vorenus removed his fingers, replaced them with his lips. First the corner of Pullo's mouth, more skin than lips, then Vorenus turned Pullo's head and pressed their lips together.

And it hurt-- Venusisawhore, it hurt-- but everything hurt and this was the only thing that felt right, hurt or no.