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smolvenger · 9 months ago

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Dangerous Stubbornness (Caius Martius Coriolanus x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: Life as wife to Caius Martius Coriolanus has its benefits. You married him for stability, protection, and status- not to mention the delights of his bed. You expect to be no more than his dutiful wife. Yet...it seems perhaps there is something more there then all of that....

From @muddyorbsblr's request of Coriolanus with the trope "he flals first."

Word Count: 2954 (oop, she exploded from a blurb)

Warnings: There is smut, NSFW 18+ please refer to Dick-tionary (rougher sex, dirty talk I stole from Ana Huang's books, doggy style, some light dom/sub, voyeurism), a creepy sexual harasser gets what's coming to him, Caius being a grumpy angy babygirl sharko bite blorbo who actually is soft for his wife and is wrapped around her little finger, Reader uses Caius as scary dog privilege. Attempts at accuracy to Ancient Roman culture and characterization but at the end of the day it's about the wish fulfillment and the vibes. Lots of fluff. Grammar mistakes bc i just want to get. This. Shit. Done after the wild two weeks I've had.

Dick-tionary: Smut starts at "Three little words. That was all he needed." and ends at "You felt his breaths from behind you, his touch gentler against your arm." Use to your discretion.

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

You were never afraid of walking through the streets of Rome because your husband walking behind you would scare all who dared to harass you. You would go about the streets, your veil fluttering on your head, smiling bright in the afternoon sunshine. Caius always had a frown and glare in his eyes that dared any fool to try to cross with you.

The marriage was purely for status- you were a good woman from a respectable family. Yes, that was probably why it was arranged between your parents! They wanted someone with a good heart and reputation, and Caius only wanted a wife to manage his house and give him children. Why should you say no? Not that you were scared of him at all- for he never once was cruel to you. Perhaps curt and blunt on occasion, proud and stubborn- but he never bullied you. With his famous wealth, you would never go hungry. He’d be away in battles and you would be alone and be free to do as you wished for months on end. If he died in battle, you figured, the more the better! You would have his money and the freedom of a widow with the respect of his name. Besides, you weren’t in love with anyone and never thought any suitors would show interest in you.

Such was one walk, early in your betrothal. One fellow had not heard the news or knew who you were and came upon you. Trying to touch you, invite you to dinner or the bathhouses. You kept refusing, he kept insisting.

Then, the braggart leaned over and grabbed your arm.

In about ten seconds flat was Caius, unsheathing his sword, upon the braggart, pulling him by the collar. You shoved him off and ran behind him. The man trembled as if Thanatos stood thundering before him.

“I shall be quick in work and send you to your death-do you understand, villain?”

He nodded, shaking. He already seemed to learn his lesson. You edged forward to your dragon of an intended.

“Please- don’t kill him, there are too many people out watching- just scare him!” you whispered to Caius.

Caius shoved him down. The man shook where he stood and you thought you smelled urine leaking from his bladder.

“If you ever as much as speak this lady’s name-I will kill you.” he threatened quietly.

The man, having learned his lesson, mumbled a whimpering “yes, dominae” and fled.

Since your marriage, and with your new status as a general’s wife, such incidents never happened.

As you peered about one stall in the market, admiring the fresh fruits offered, you smiled bright.

“Oh, how lovely these berries look! So ripe and fresh! Wouldn’t you agree, dear husband?” you asked.

Caius remained frowning, though eyed down the berries. The man selling them looked pale and kept eying the sheathed sword on Caius’s hip.

“They’re fine,” he said. His pride kept him from commenting further on a simple farmer’s wares. But you felt his eyes over your smile seeing them.

Caius lent his coin to buy you some. The trembling farmer scooped up some berries, and popped them into a little bag, and handed it to you. You thanked the farmer and paused to admire them.

You smiled at them, as if they were jewels in your hands. Then you tried a little handful, popping them into your mouth.

“Mhm! They’re delicious! Thank you, Caius,” you replied.

You leaned up and gave him a peck on the cheek. He blinked, and his shoulders loosened down from the feeling of your lips. You could have sworn a faint pink was on his cheeks as he continued behind you- not that he dared smile or keep his guard down in public.

You thought it would be another ordinary quiet night. But Caius Martius was many things. Quiet and ordinary were neither of them.

At home, you wanted to rest your feet from all the walking today. Your loom was coming along and weaving it felt relaxing. As you sat, you heard footsteps. Turning around, you saw Caius standing there.

You stood up. “Husband? Is something the matter?”

“...no…” he said.

“Oh…then, what…what brings you here?” you asked.

“I wish only to sit, I have…scrolls to read.”

“This is, er, not the usual room for a man,” you said, taking note of the loom and embroidery, the flowers from the garden.

“I am going to sit and read. In this room,” he said determinately.

Letting out an exhale, you relented.

“Oh- your mother is always right! Your dangerous stubbornness- oh, you are welcome here, Caius, dull as it must be for you compared to a fight with a Volsce…” you teased.

He made no answer. But you sat and weaved. Watching how the lines all came together and became one for the latest project.

Little did you know that his eyes were more on you than on the flimsy scrolls. Seeing your profile and your eyes over the work then the dusty work.

Though as you ate dinner, His eyes were on you, the neckline of your dress, showing your shoulders. Your tempa mesa was presented, eaten, and sent away as was the meal. He moved closer, to sit beside you. You felt him move an arm around you. Speaking to you in soft tones.

As a slave came in to take an empty bowl, you felt him close, he held up a hand. Talking about some silly complaint with the tribunes Brutus and Sicinia. But it was useless- he only wanted to touch your hand, trace it, and bring it to his mouth as his lips ghosted a kiss onto your palm. You took in a sharp breath as he did.

You felt your breaths become shallow and saw his eyes flutter boldly to your chest. He sat beside you, one hand always lying on your thigh.

“What…is this….”

“I only want to enjoy all that is mine- my house, my meal, and my wife.”

With that, he propped you upon his lap as the slave brought more wine. You felt yourself get warm, feeling him on you. Such…intimacy sent your heart aflutter. Though…after plates were cleared before he could tighten his arms to hold you, you slid off. He let you, his blue eyes widening.

“I’m going to get ready for bed,” you announced softly.

His hand was still on your skirt. As you walked away, the fabric pulled and then slid lightly off his fingers. His hand is still in the air as if still touching you.

You sat down before the vanity. Making sure your face was washed, you removed the jewelry you had. Smiling at how lovely they were. Gifts he still found to give you even though the wedding was some time ago. Gifts he still would give you.

The slaves were still around. They kept fanned cool air with peacock feathers. Played soft music on harps and little reeds and made sure there was always water for washing and kept about.

The door opened, and your heart beat hard as he got inside. You continued your nightly routine, removing the ring and necklace as well as the belt before you. Getting ready to change- and yet…here he was. A shadow in the corner. He walked up.

“Husband! My…I’m not in trouble?” you asked, slightly teasing.

“No…”

The servants all shot a look, he gestured at them to stay. To continue their business.

His arms wrapped around you slowly. Then, he laid his head down, looking at you in the mirror.

“But…I didn’t say I wanted this evening to end…” he breathed, he began to pepper kisses down your neck. His hands running down your arms.

“I said I was going to bed…not to sleep…” you said. Enjoying the teasing and playfulness. How you could still hold this mighty, fearsome warrior like wet clay in your hands.

He whispered into your ear for only you to hear.

“I’m going to burst if I don’t have you now.”

You grinned.

“Then have me,” you replied.

Three little words. That was all he needed.

He tore off your veil to where it flew down, fluttering like feathers. He pulled you in and kissed you. You moaned into it. His hands grew bolder, feeling down your sides. You moaned in response as he slid his tongue inside. You pressed yourself next to him, feeling his desire prod against you.

Then he was on you like an animal starved. At once he began to kiss you, cupping your face, keeping a hand on your back to keep you close. You waved a hand through his short, dark blonde hair. His own were going down to feel all over your skin, though his firey kisses never stopped. The man had a craving for you in the bedroom like no other. Not that you complained about it.

You took his hand and led it to your breast to squeeze.

“Caius…yes…more…” you moaned.

“You want more…” he replied.

“Yes- give it to me…” you asked.

“All of it…”

“Yes…”

“And you will take it?”

You looked into his eyes.

“...yes. I want more. Not like on our wedding night. I want it hard. And rough. I can take it. I will take it.”

At once he threw you upon the bed. Lush with blankets and pillows, rich and comfortable. He walked towards you, eyes filled with lust, his steps slow, his head tilted, but not smiling.

“When I take you, I want you to cry out. I want all of Rome, every plebian, every senator, every person, and every animal and god to know you are mine.

He was on you, feeling a hand on your leg and kissing you. You began to grind against him. The servants blushed and looked about, he gestured to them.

“Stay,” he ordered them.

They stayed.

“I don’t want you dignified. No, wife. Show your loyalty-” he moved his hands through your dress.

“Take off your clothes.”

“If you want me naked that badly- take them off yourself,” you dared.

He obliged.

You let a sound as he roughly reached into your dress and shoved down the sleeves. You began to let a sound, a gasp as it broke open. It nearly ripped it. Shaking, you helped remove his own clothes still on him. Amazed at though his chest was filled with those dark, bloodied scars, the muscles still on them.

He smiled.

“Such a tongue you’ve grown to have on you, delicae,” he said

The music of the slaves continued, as did their fans. Though you could feel their eyes.

Now you were naked in his room, feeling his hands explore all over you, one squeezing your breast as the other spread around your back, wrapping you in, fingers into your skin as if to mark you.

“Then shouldn’t I be punished?” you asked coyly.

He smirked as looked at you. Then he let the last of his clothes fall. Showing his impressive thighs and impressive cock so hard it dripped against his stomach,

“It was everything in me not to take you at that table…then we’ll make up for it…”

He half threw you to the study part of the room. There sat a desk.

“Lean over that desk.”

You obliged, heart beating hard.

“Spead your legs,” he ordered.

You opened your two shaking legs, your wet sex glistening before him.

“Put your hands on the edge,” he ordered in a rasp.

Two shaking hands of yours gripped the edge. He laid your hips up. Then thrust into you at once. You let out a sound. Then roughly, he began to take you. Pounding in, his large cock straining inside you. You let out a sound.

“Yes- yes keep that- you are- you’re mine, you’re mine now- now-say it-say. it.”

“I’m” you cried between his thrusts. “I’m-I’m-your-yours-you- gods!”

He pounded into you with a fury. His own groaning increasing. It was so filthy, so depraved, and you loved it. You had to grip the edge tightly as he pounded into you. Grunting like an animal.

The music from the slaves continued, as did the footsteps from their business. Harps continued on as Caius took you like a whore. You could feel them still watching everything. Wondering if they were frightened, aroused, amazed, disgusted, or all four at once.

He began to growl to you between pounding you.

“So you-”

thrust.

“-never-”

thrust

“-forget-”

He pulled you up by your shoulder to your ear. His voice right next to it, his cock and his voice overtaking you.

“You-”

thrust

“-are-”

thrust

“-my-”

thrust

“-wife.”

He reached a hand, finding your opening between your legs. The bud inside you, swollen and needy and overcome. One large finger began to strum it and you let out a whimper feeling it. His large, long fingers could already play it so easily. He let you down, and you were gripping tight to keep from losing it all. You weren’t going to last long at this rate.

“Caius! Caius please-please-Caius-”

It was already crawling up, the desk thudded loudly, perhaps breaking if it weren’t so thick and sturdy. The slaves would know he was yours and you were his. That only he and you could bring each other this.

“Yes- cum, dammit, wife- cum for me, cum- just cum, cum with me-”

“Caius-caius! I- Caius-caiuscaiuscaiuscaius-” you repeated, feeling it break. Your voice gets higher until you let out a noise, as your climax hits you.

Then with a shout from him, the seed shot forth inside you. You moaned as you panted, catching your breath. He steadily pulled out.

You felt his breaths from behind you, his touch gentler against your arm. One wrapped around you for protection.

“Get her something to drink now!” he barked at the servants.

They nodded their heads and ran off. Caius with one swoop got you into his arms. You felt your breath light, almost dizzy with joy- he hadn’t done that since your wedding when he brought you to this house. You could still feel his strong arms supporting you so easily. He carried you over to the bed, settling you amongst the blankets. One slave brought a cup of your drink, and you sipped at it with both hands. He made sure a blanket was draped over you for a bit of modesty.

“What kindness…I never would have guessed you would have kindness in you…” you remarked.

“I…want to be honorable…” he said quietly.

He waved a hand, and the flushed slaves left, Granting you privacy at last. You saw Caius look at you, then glance down like a shy maiden.

This wasn’t like him.

“What is it?” you asked.

“What is what?” he asked.

“You and your dangerous stubborness! Well I have some in me too. You have enjoyed me. And you wish to speak of something, I can feel it. You can tell me. Is there something you want of me? A son? I’m sure at this rate, you’ll have one…” you urged, a hand consciously at your belly.

Caius tilted his head again, his hand moving you away from yours. But touching it softly.

“It…isn’t that. What I have…you must think it isn’t for a man to say aloud,” he said

“But you must say it! Is something wrong? Are you ill? Is your mother ill? What did Menenius try to weasel you to do? Where are they sending you now!? Caius, Why not-”

He quickly got up and cupped your face. He spoke quick, plain, and to the point.

“I love you.”

You paused your breath tight and the room spinning

“You…love me?”

“Why did I ask my mother to arrange us married?”

It struck you.

“I was…am a virtuous daughter of a respectable family-”

He looked into your eyes.

“I’ve loved you the day I met you. I wanted to have you as my wife or no one. I couldn’t resist you if Diana herself ordered me to.”

Struck silent, you saw his face soften. The orange glow of the candlelight making him that more beautiful.

“When…when did you know for sure…did Eros really strike the moment you saw me ”

“I…I remember it was- it was the race for the senate. All the crowd gathered to see me speak, to see the consul. I tried to ignore you there, and I could not. I was in denial all that time. But seeing you-when you looked at me, and smiled, I forgot it all. I didn’t want the seat. I wanted you. Honestly, I don’t know when it happened. But it did. And yet- all at once I-I-”

He paused.

“Maybe it was when we were betrothed. Maybe I walked with you to the markets. Or when I saw you there. Maybe it was every dull dinner and banquet I had to attend, that I still went, hoping to see you. To just see you…”

He caught himself.

“But no…I think most of all…it was each time I spoke to you. And you knew of me….and now …”

He touched your hand and you brought it to your lips, kissing it tenderly. You almost saw a tear drop despite the stillness of his face.

“I know what I am. And I thought you should hate me. Beyond whatever duty you may feel to me as your husband-”

“Caius, I don’t hate you. Not at all.”

“Then…could you-”

“I could learn to love you, and choose to love you, Caius.”

You pulled your face to his and kissed him. Then you tucked yourself into him, embracing him as you both lay on the bed. Not just as husband and wife, but as two people deeply in love.

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smolvenger · 1 year ago

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Twenty-Seven Wounds (Coriolanus x fem! Reader)

Summary: In ancient times, in a place that calls itself Rome, you find yourself married to the general Caius Martius or Coriolanus. He has fought so many battles he has twenty-seven scars on his body. Scars that he has not shown you yet...

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Mentions of sex but no actual smut, discussions of war, violence. Drunkenness and brief harassment but the asshole is put in his place. Grumpy and Sunshine trope. I do my best to write Caius accurately. But at the end of the day, it's MY indulgent fic and here he's a big tough warmonger who becomes a simp that kisses the ground his cinnamon roll wife walks on. References to the play and to ancient Roman customs and words. A fake kidnapping.

Word Count: 3K

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

“General Martius has asked me for your hand in marriage and I consented,” your father announced.

Your vision went dizzy. You had to sit down. You knew many things about General Caius Martius, otherwise known as Coriolanus since his great victory in the land of Corioles.

As you sat back down to process the news, you recounted every instance of interaction. You met him in the chariot races. Menenius introduced you to each other- the senator's bald head shining like a crown and his chest as puffed as a peacock's.

"This is the great General Martius! And General- this is the lady Y/N-isn't she one of our city's great beauties, hm?"

"Sir! Uh-I-thank you!" you replied, very flustered and surprised he would say that.

General Martius made no reply. Only a polite greeting.

You talked with him at dinners. The odd banquet or party. Saw him in the audience of the Gladiator fights, plays, or chariot races.

But Caius was no run-of-the-mill man. He was a renowned general in the army and known as the fiercest warrior Rome could wish for. Notoriously ferocious on a battlefield. A man who breathed war. He was also notorious for his arrogance and stubbornness and sometimes his anger. You knew he was sensitive to smells- his nose would often crinkle as he walked by the streets. You knew his mother, Volumina. You knew he enjoyed the Gladiator fights. Though you sometimes turned away when it got too gruesome. If it was too much, he would escort you out. When you came to chariot races, he would be there.

He was still an incredibly attractive man- dark reddish-blonde hair. Beautiful blue eyes. Tall, broad, and striking. When the betrothal was confirmed, he visited where you stayed. Your father joined your hands together. He held them with a delicacy. He then brought them up and kissed them.

“Y/N…I promise you-I will be an honorable husband. You will be protected. You will want for nothing. And they will revere you as they do for me.”

He brought you a little closer so that your hands became entwined. You were not scared of marrying him. No- what scared you was that you were not scared. What scared you was how badly you wanted to marry him. You should have been frustrated that your father agreed to the match without consulting you. All fathers had complete and total say over their children’s marriages…but you were not angry in the least.

“You will be…gentle to me, Caius?” you asked quietly.

“Yes. Yes, I will,” he replied. He placed another hand over yours.

“Ah! What a pretty picture! Come- let us make an offering to the household gods! Let us pray for a blessing for our Y/N and her warrior groom!” your father announced, rubbing his hands together.

Your wedding happened not too long after. It seemed your family was in a rush to have a connection to the wealthy and famous general.

After the ceremony at the temple of Hera, all of you sat down at your house to a feast. Caius- no, no longer “General Martius” or “General Coriolanus” but just Caius!- sat down next to you. He leaned back and kept an arm around you, his hand rubbing against the side of your arm.

One guest with more wine in his body than decency spittled something that made your stomach curl in offense. He staggered before your seat and pointed a finger at you.

“Ah! Where can I get a twin of this pretty nymph like Martius’s? Hm? Her breasts will look even better without her wedding gown over them!”

Before you could say a word, Caius lept to his feet. He ran before the drunkard and yanked him by the collar to his face.

“You will speak with respect to the wife of a general or you will remain quiet!” he barked at the rude guest.

The room went quiet. You knew if the impulse struck him, Caius would get out his sword and have the bastard sliced in half. The man began to tremble and utter apologies as a friend of his took him away.

“Everyone…let’s have some music now! Before we close the feast-I think it would soothe everyone!” you announced.

Glancing at the musicians frozen with their lyres, they began to play again. You returned to your seat as did your new husband.

“Would you have be different than I am, Y/N?” he whispered to you.

“You were only protecting me…how could I be angry at you or want you different?” you asked.

You gave him a peck on the cheek. He blinked rapidly. You saw him turn bright red and his frown melted into a tiny smile.

Right as the feast started to wind down, your heart began to drum in your chest. There was the staged kidnapping- for all of Rome knew that the best bride was a maiden who was unwillingly taken from home. So every consenting bride had to pretend as a ceremony for the end of the celebrations. Put on a show good enough to fool the gods for luck.

Getting up from the table, Caius went to the other end of the room to exit through the door. Your mother put her arms around you. He then stormed in on cue like in a Euripedian tragedy.

“This house has something I want! Give me Y/N or I will kill every being who keeps me from her!” he announced in pretense.

You could feel yourself trying not to laugh. Your own mother was trying a forced frown.

“Please- mother- don’t let the General take me!” you wailed dutifully.

He went up with his sword out so others stepped back. Then he sheathed it and looked at you, licking his lips.

“I am here! I claim this woman- she is mine now- for my house and my bed!” he declared.

He took you easily from your mother’s arms and then slung you over his shoulders. You let out a brief squeal- trying to make your laughter sound like tears.

“Mother! Mother! Help!” you cried out in pretend. Glad no one could see your smile as he carried you out. And especially glad you could still ogle his pert behind from where you were dangling for the rest of the “kidnapping.”

He carried you down the streets over his shoulder. Then when you arrived at his place, he transferred you so that he carried you with an arm over your back and the other supporting your legs. For it was bad luck for a young bride to trip. And he kept you in his arms as he ignored his mother and the slaves greeting him and took you straight to his bedroom without a word. Everyone gave each other a look and then went on with their business.

Caius’s restraint left him as soon as he entered that room. He set you on your feet and then grabbed you. He kissed you so much you could already feel his tongue inside.

“Gods, you are mine now…” he whispered.

He held you so close. You could feel his heat, his desperation, his need to have you. He kept a hand on your back and kept you close. You were getting wet with each touch of his.

He went down to the belt that held your dress. It was tied in a special knot for today- The knot of chastity. And symbolically, one only your husband was allowed to undo. Your heart raced as he began to touch it, a thumb going over the long threads.

“Caius…I want you…yes-it’s our wedding night, please…” you heard yourself voice.

He pulled and fought at the knot almost so much, that he swore that it wasn’t coming off fast enough. That he would need a knife. Then he used his thumb to edge it out so it would loosen. With several swift tugs and a grunt of his, he yanked the knot undone and the cloth belt came off. He eagerly found the edges of your clothes.

“Yes…my wife…”

You wrapped your arms around him and kissed him again. He then removed the lower parts of his clothes.

There were slaves playing music in the other room. He preferred some quiet music in the evenings. And tonight was no exception. They were to keep playing. To hear him take his wife- no, you. To hear Your cries of pleasure among the soft strings. They were playing when he led you to his lectus and your marriage was passionately consummated.

You adjusted to married life surprisingly well. And in private, Caius was not the fearsome dragon some heralded him to be. Yes- he was arrogant and stubborn at his worst. But he could be…persuaded, you discovered.

“And the peasants were crying that they wanted more grain! Grain from our storages!” he reported to you one day over dinner.

“Well…couldn’t we spare just a little bit, dear husband?” you asked.

A Slave brought you a bowl of dates and then left to refill your wine glasses.

“For the rabble? No-let them hang!” he dismissed.

He tore a bite of meat from its leg and chewed on it like a bear with prey. But you kept your eyes soft and gave him a smile.

“They’re only hungry. Even I become cross when I am hungry! And we have so much food here. Really, it’s more than I can eat! And there are always so many leftovers…surely….just a little grain could be spared, Caius? It would warm my heart to see so many hungry people be fed…they do not complain without reason…perhaps then they won’t complain about you anymore. Just a little bit of grain, Caius? Please?”

You saw his shoulders start to sag. With a deep sigh, he gestured to one of his slaves

“Tell them that five percent of the grain stored will be gathered and distributed to the protesters,” he said.

You smiled as you looked down.

He was content to sit quietly beside you in some evenings. You could weave your loom and the man who craved battles would merely go over parchments beside you. His desire was like that of an animal though. It only took a look or a smile from you before he was on you, kissing you, and pulling at your clothes to have them come off. The nights when you both did not make love, he still wanted to touch you. He would pull you onto him to rest your head against his chest. You would permit him to rub your back with his hand and wrap his arms protectively around you. As if not even Zeus himself could get past Caius Martius to the treasure that lay in his arms. He often would touch you gently. Even as you walked past him, he would softly just touch a cloth of your skirt, feeling the fabric slip through his fingers longingly as you had to leave.

There was one dinner where your mother, Volumina, decided to put you to the test. You knew it. As you sat down on the floor enjoying your food, she turned to you and declared something most people would find offensive.

“Ah! I hope in the next battle that my son will receive another scar! Don’t you, Y/N?”

On one hand, you did not want your husband to suffer. But this was Volumina. Her whole life’s purpose was to create a soldier of her boy. To serve the wars in her own way through what she could do behind the scenes. To see him either victorious or dead was her life’s work. Glory in battle meant glory for her and the Martius family.

Carefully, you added a reply with a dutiful nod of your head.

“Yes- should the scars not be fatal, I see them as badges of honor. And if they were-I am proud to have a husband willing to give his life for the safety of Rome’s people. And if I must sacrifice him for all our sakes, I will make it,” you replied.

“Ah! What a sweet woman you have for your wife, Caius!” Volumina praised, her stained lips curved into a smile.

There, the middle ground. It wasn’t that bad. But as she slid aside her plate, her talk turned. She looked at you, dressed in her dark clothes with her dark hair done up. Her smile was still big on her creamy face.

“Did you know, Y/N, that my son bears a total of twenty-seven scars from battle!?” she asked.

“No-he never told me it was that many,” you said with a quick glance at him.

“Yes! And may Ares bring him twenty-seven more!” Volumina said.

But you had never seen such scars.

After a few months, you realized something- you had never seen him bare. That was odd. Most women would tell you of how the first time they saw Octavius Cato’s or so-and-so’s willy they burst into laughter. But even the hundreds of times you made love, Caius kept his shirt on. He preferred to bathe alone, never going into the bathhouses. The times he did bathe, sometimes you heard him groan in pain outside the room. As if the scars were still fresh. He always went behind a screen to dress. In bed, he only wore a toge that had short sleeves. You saw a cut over his shoulder peep out. It looked almost like the crack of an earthquake on the soil. But whenever you tried to nudge it in bed, he would move your hand away, asking you to stop.

You were still unequal. He had kissed every inch of your bare skin. But you had not even seen it. As frightening as that scratch looked, you had to see more.

That is, until one night. It was uncomfortably warm. You sweated on your shared lectus, tossing and turning in discomfort. You turned over to see Caius was still awake. He then rolled over of you confirming to the other that you were not asleep. You slept in your underclothes and he still had that toge. And he was sweating.

“I think you should undress,” you said.

He turned around, though you could smell his sweat dripping down.

“It’d be better if I didn’t,” he huffed.

You touched his shoulder, turning him to face you.

“Caius…why do you show no one your scars?” you asked.

He swallowed.

“They’re….they’re only when Rome needs to see them. When they lose sight. When they lose respect.” he said. r.

“Am I not part of Rome, too?” you asked.

He paused.

“Yes…yes you are…” he answered.

“You’ve never…bared yourself to me like I have to you,” you commented.

“They’re gruesome. It would…it would have scared you, I thought. You wouldn’t want to sleep beside them…too gruesome…”

He sat up.

“I’ll sleep somewhere else tonight-you don’t want to look at them,” he announced.

But you stopped his hand and kept him still.

“Caius…may I see them, please?” you asked.

You gingerly touched his chest, right over the toga he wore to bed. You only saw the scratches around his collarbones.

“Are you afraid?” he asked.

“No. They’re a part of you…I want to see them…” you urged.

His eyes softened. Then you both sat up in bed.

“Then…then remove it for yourself and see.” he permitted.

You went to the corner edges of his own robe. He helped you as you lifted it over his head. You then got a candle to see it better.

You knew he was a strong man, but there were so many scratches, lashes, and cuts you could not make out the muscles clearly. There were so many cuts and lashes-they looked so dark across his skin. All over his torso. Then there were the newer ones from the battle at Corioles-they still looked red. You set the candle back down on the table near the bed.

“I understand if you wish not to lie with me anymore…I will make arrangements where-”

“No, you don’t have to!” you interrupted.

For once in his life, Caius Martius Coriolanus closed his mouth and he listened.

“Twenty-seven of them. Twenty-seven times you have been wounded. Twenty-seven times you could have died…and didn’t,” you said. “Can I touch them?”

“Yes,Y/N, you can…”

You lightly took your hand and felt the bumps and edges. He flinched only slightly, then relaxed into it. You could feel the warmth of the sweltering night on him.

“Caius…may I kiss them?” you asked.

“Yes…”

You gently kissed the back of your three fingers and pressed them over the lower scars. You knew putting your mouth lower would stir something in him. Now was not the moment…and it seemed he would agree. His breathing was deep as your kissed fingers touched the lower ones. Such chaste, light kisses like a butterfly's wing.

As they moved up to his chest, you peppered one kiss across one. Then another. You paused, your mouth over his skin, his steady pulse shaking from your touch. ��

“Each one…you survived. You defeated your enemies…you protected your allies…and you protected me…and you survived, Caius,” you whispered.

He put a hand to touch your cheek and you leaned into it.

“Dulcissima…my sweetest…thank you…”

“Do they hurt right now?” you asked.

His voice smoothed and spoke with such tenderness as you had never heard before. He put an arm around you as you kept kissing them.

“No…they never felt more relieved…my wife, her kisses have their own little medicine…”

You moved up to his shoulder from the first fresh one from Corioles, sweetly kissing them. His soft voice spoke on and you could feel yourself burst from his words.

“Dearest of my heart…my gift from Hera and Aphrodite themselves…”

You kissed the gash on his upper left arm. Then you lifted up to meet him, his eyes brimming with tears.

“There…twenty-seven kisses for each scar…”

Then he relaxed, your hand tracing his chest. You blew the candle out to the dark. The room suddenly became cooler. Then you nuzzled into him, settling into him. How warm he felt-so close and so real. His chest moving and falling.

“Caius…why did you want to marry me?” you asked.

“I thought…you would do well, being married to me. You…you’re good to me. You…you smiled when you saw me. You weren’t afraid…” he confessed.

“I was nervous every time you noticed me!” you recalled.

You felt the smile in his voice. His other hand found yours and wrapped itself over your palm. He went on.

“So was I! I hate banquets and parties…but I went to them in case you were there. I watched you squirm at the gladiator fights and look away and wish I could…just take you in my arms and take you away from them. But…then there was the time I was with your father’s…. You said something, and it made me laugh…I laughed! That was…when I knew…when I knew I had to be your husband.”

You looked up at him. His eyes were shiny. But you did not see tears. He swallowed, perhaps looking away made him more honest. You nestled back into him and clung to him. He kept talking.

“I kept…thinking of you. Of what you would say. I kept going to the market. Every day. Just to see you. Even just a glimpse of you passing by. Just one glimpse-not much. To see you walk up to the bathhouses….”

“And you never went in to see me in there…because of your scars?” you asked.

“I knew you frequented them. I confess- I am a man. As much as I would have loved to see you naked and wet, it meant scaring the others away when I removed my clothes, it would have scared you away…”

You went back to look at him. This time you touched his face, looking directly into his blue eyes.

You pressed a forehead to his.

“They don’t scare me…not anymore, and you don’t scare me…” you whispered. “Caius…Caius, I love you…”

“Y/N…I…I love you too…”

That evening, as the night settled over a place that called itself Rome, you relaxed into bed with your husband. You wrapped your arms to embrace him and he did not put on his toge to hide his scars. He only held you tight. His scars only barely brushed against you. Badges of war. Badges of honor. Badges of protection. He kissed the top of your head as you both settled into sleep.

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