#emperor Caracalla x f/Reader x emperor Geta | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stylesispunk · 1 month ago

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'Hands in the hair of somebody named Marcus'

Marcus Acacius x f!reader

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summary: the cursed blood of Geta and Caracalla runs through your veins sealing your fate. However, the General Acacius is willing to fight for you.

w.c: 5k>

warnings: angst, violence, power imbalance,and fluff.

a/n: I had this one in my drafts but after watching gladiator ii twice. I had to finish it and write about my beloved General Acacius because he deserves it. I hope you like it. This may have a part ii depending on its performance. PLEASE DON'T BE MEAN. Reblogs and comments are always. appreciated 💌

| dividers by @/saradika-graphics |

Inhale.

Exhale.

Breathe in, breath out.

There was it, the rattle breathing inside Marcus Acacius lungs. The way life has turned out for him felt like cuts all over his skin.

Sometimes he felt he could even breath from how bloody his hands were. How dirty his name felt to his own honor. How salty his tears felt down his cheeks every night. Every time he closed his eyes at night, the screams pierced through his ears.

Mothers mourning their children.

Men mourning their wives.

Families destroyed.

All because of him.

All because he must have served those two spoiled kids so called emperors of Rome.

And he still couldn't wrap his mind around the idea of you, someone so pure and kind was cursed to share the same blood as them.

Every time he came back to the city. He witnessed on first hand, how badly you were treated by them. The laughs, the humiliation, the segregation, and how your voice had been silenced just for you to be unwillingly part of a legacy that felt like your back being split in two.

Marcus was aware of the adoration people felt for you, how your kindness had reached to every single person in the empire. People loved you, but you were nothing more than a puppet under their fingers.

And he felt pity for you.

He could see the way your eyes seemed lost in the arena, in the way your hands trembled where Geta or Caracalla looked at you with disgust when you didn't approve of the madness they had arisen under their control.

You were the opposite of them.

You were Kind.

Kind as no one had been on here for so many years. You shared the same dream of Marcus Aurelio.

An empire for the world and a refuge for those in need.

and Marcus looked at you with tenderness in his heart from afar.

Most of the time you didn't acknowledge him. He knew you weren't really fond of him or the idea of him leading armies to claim cities under the glory of Rome.

For you, he was just a general repeating the same cycle of madness.

And you didn't acknowledge him until Geta slapped you on front of him for not showing your gratitude towards him after his returning from battle.

The sting lingered on your cheek after his slap, not from the force but from the humiliation of it. The room fell silent, the tension arose like flames to the fire. Geta and Caracalla, with their arrogant disdain, seemed to punish your perceived disobedience.

But Marcus? His expression shifted, subtle, yet profound. His sharp gaze, so often unreadable, burned with an intensity that wasn’t anger but something close to defiance. He stepped forward, his towering presence demanding the attention of everyone in the room.

“Enough,” Marcus said, his voice calm and gentle, the command laced with quiet fury. The word carried weight, a warning not to be ignored. Your brothers exchanged a glance, clearly displeased but unwilling to challenge the general directly. They turned and left, leaving muttered curses in the air.

The room fell silent once again, and you found yourself standing alone with General Acacius. Your hand hovering your cheek, the skin still warm from Geta’s punishment. You didn’t look up at first, embarrassed not just by the slap but by the realization that Marcus had witnessed it. You had worked so hard to ignore him, to keep him at a distance, but now, there was no avoiding him.

“You didn’t deserve that,” he said softly, his voice a startling contrast to the authority he had wielded moments ago.

You finally raised your eyes to meet his, expecting pity but finding something else entirely different, something softer. “It doesn’t matter,” you murmured, attempting to dismiss it, but he shook his head.

“It does,” Marcus said, taking a step closer. “You shouldn’t have to endure this, least of all from them. They’re your blood”

His words hung in the air, and for the first time, you saw him not as the general who commanded armies in your brothers’ name but as a man standing apart from their cruelty. He wasn’t like them, not entirely.

And perhaps, you thought, he never had been.

Your gaze lingered on Marcus for a moment longer, his eyes searching yours as if waiting for you to say something—anything. But you couldn’t. Your throat tightened, and you turned away, moving to the window to avoid the weight of his attention.

“I don’t need your protection,” you said, though the words came out softer than you intended. “You’ve done enough by speaking against them. They will get under your skin for it.”

Marcus hesitated, his heavy footsteps echoing as he approached you. “You shouldn’t have to thank me for doing what’s right.”

His words made your chest ache. When was the last time anyone had done what was “right” for you? You stared out at the gardens beyond the window, their beauty feeling distant, unreachable. Your brothers had never cared about right or wrong, only power.

“I don’t understand you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “You fight for them. You serve them. And yet…”

“And yet I see who they truly are,” Marcus interrupted gently. “I serve Rome, not their cruelty. There’s a difference.”

You turned to face him, his nearness almost startling. For the first time, his presence didn’t feel overwhelming. Instead, it felt… grounding. Safe. He stood tall, but his expression was open, waiting for you to respond.

“They’ll hate you for standing up for me,” you said, your tone cautious. “They don’t forgive things like that.”

“Let them hate me,” Marcus replied without hesitation. “I won’t stand by and let them treat you as they do.”

The conviction in his voice sent a shiver through you. You wanted to argue, to remind him that opposing your brothers would bring nothing but trouble, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you found yourself studying him. His broad shoulders, the sharp lines of his face, and the way his eyes softened when they rested on you.

“I don’t need anyone fighting my battles,” you said, though even you weren’t sure if you believed it. “I’ve survived this long on my own.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” he replied, stepping closer, his voice low but steady. “You deserve better than survival.”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words pressing against you. Before you could respond, Marcus straightened, his demeanor shifting as if sensing he had said too much. He nodded once, a gesture of respect, before stepping back.

“I should leave you to rest,” he said. “You’ve been through enough today”

Your breath caught at the sound of his voice, so steady and sincere, the words lingering in the air like a balm to your frayed nerves. You wanted to reach out, to say something and stop him, but you hesitated, unsure of what held you back.

Marcus took another step away, his broad shoulders tense, as though leaving you was harder for him than he let on. His words, though respectful, carried a tone of finality that made your heart twist.

“I’ll see you soon,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost reluctant. He bowed slightly, taking your hand in his, and kissing it as his dark eyes met yours, “My lady.”

As if his words had worked as a kind of manifesto, the “soon” came no long after.

There you were in the gardens, barefoot, with your wild hair looking at the moon shining over the town you had been forced to call it home.

Marcus could see from your posture to your void eyes when you were there in the middle of your brothers, faking enthusiasm, while inside your bones you hate with passion this torturous show.

You didn't wish to be cruel to the world but kind.

You didn't wish to see blood coming out from innocent men who had fallen prey under the hands of the cruelty of the roman empire.

And you were exhausted of seeing and hearing the cheering of people celebrating death as a spectacle.

You didn't want this to be your life but just a nightmare you were going to wake from too soon.

And now, as Marcus could see the moon reflecting on your face. He was able to see through the golden jewelry and the soft material of your dress, he could see a soul pleading to the moon to set her free.

Something must have alerted you. You turned around facing him hiding under his cloak.

"General Acacius?" You whispered, closing your eyes a bit to take his form under the soft light of the moon.

"My lady" he replied softly, with respect to his tone.

“What are you doing here?” you breathed, your voice trembled under his gaze.

He hesitated for mere seconds, his gaze intense as it locked onto yours. “I could ask you the same, my lady,” he replied, a trace of sweetness in his tone. “It seems even those closest to the emperors need to escape from time to time.”

A silence fell between you, charged with a tension that both thrilled and unsettled you. The few stolen glances you’d shared over the past days had spoken volumes, but you had never dared to hope his heart could be beating as fast as yours in your presence.

You turned around again, your back to him. "I love coming here to look at the moon. " You spoke, breaking the silence "This seems to be the only place my brothers haven't tainted yet."

"How they don't know about this place?"

"My father sent this place to be built for his only daughter." You replied, and Marcus could notice how the corners of your lips graced with a smirk, even from behind. "A place for her to be a girl."

"What do you mean?"

"You know, General. Women seem to be useless for having a voice, less for ruling an Empire. Everything I can do is stay here and feel like I own something." You hold your voice for a minute, “I’m just a statue waiting to crumble.”

Marcus didn't reply to your words and if it wasn't for the sound of his steps getting closer you would have thought he left.

You could see his outline from the corner of your eyes, the way his face had been marked by cruel events you despise. A red mark on his cheek, a few scars on his neck and for brown eyes that contrasted from his hard exterior, shinning under the same moon as yours.

"How did you find this place, General?" You asked, bow fully looking at him. You were wondering how your brothers never knew about this place but him had been the first man to find it, just after his return.

He took a brief look at you from the corners of his eyes. "I would say that something brought me here," he paused for a moment, "but it seems like it was you, my lady."

You had to hold your breath for a moment. You didn't expect such words from Marcus. He was the beloved general of Rome. But to your eyes he was still a man who had built his honor from cruelty or that was what you thought.

"I don't believe so." You replied, despite the rapid beating of your heart, you didn't want to be fooled by a man with soft brown eyes and a heart that seems to be kind. "I do not desire a man to follow me, not less one who is the puppet of the cruelty of all this cold nonsense."

"My lady…"

"Please, you may go now." you said, turning your gaze back to the moon.

Marcus didn’t leave immediately. Instead, he lingered in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the faint torchlight flickering in the hall. His hand rested on the edge of the door, his knuckles tight and pale as if he were restraining himself from saying something he would later regret.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the crackling of the embers in the hearth. The tension between you felt almost unbearable, a quiet battle waged in silence.

“I know what you think of me,” he finally said, his voice softer now, like the hush of a secret shared in the dark. “You see a man of blood and iron, one who serves an empire that devours cities for the Glory of Rome.” He exhaled slowly, almost as if gathering the strength to continue. “You’re not wrong to think that. There are nights when I wonder if all of this is worth it, if I am worth anything beyond my sword.”

His admission struck something deep within you, though you kept your face turned toward the moon. You refused to let him see the small crack forming in your carefully constructed armor.

“Then why stay?” you asked quietly, your voice carrying an edge of challenge. “Why continue to serve a cause you doubt?”

“I stay because I must,” Marcus said without hesitation. “It is all I have known, and it is all that has been asked of me. But you…” His voice faltered, and you felt the weight of his gaze, though you didn’t dare meet it. “You are different. You are everything this empire is not, kind, unyielding. Someone like you should be the one ruling Rome, the princess.”

You chuckled at the statement “My brothers would send me to death before I’ll have the chance to sit on that throne.”

Your fingers tightened around the fabric of your dress. His words shouldn’t have this effect on you, yet they lingered, stirring something unfamiliar.

“And that is why you should go,” you said, more firmly now. “You’re talking nonsense”

Marcus took a step closer, his steps echoing faintly against the cobblestones “Perhaps I do not belong here,” he said, his tone unwavering, “but that does not mean I will walk away so easily and let this empire fall under your brother’s madness.”

You turned to him then, unable to ignore the quiet determination in his voice. His eyes, those soft brown eyes that had once seemed so dangerous, now held a sincerity you hadn’t expected. For the first time, you saw not a general, but a man, a man who carried the weight of his choices and the burden of his doubts.

“You think you can change my mind?” you asked, your tone sharp despite the unease stirring in your chest.

“No,” Marcus admitted, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “But I hope, one day, I can show you what I am talking about.”

Before you could reply, he bowed his head slightly, as a gesture of respect rather than submission, and turned to leave.

As the door closed behind him, you stood in the quiet of the garden, your heart beating fast while his words played over in your head.

The arena buzzed with the deafening roar of the crowd, their excitement spilling into the air as dust kicked up from the floor below. You sat stiffly behind Geta and Caracalla, their laughter and sharp whispers grating against your ears. This was how it always was, trapped in their own world, watching their cruelty unfold.

Today, the games were bloodier than usual, the violence more drawn out, as if they relished every clash of blades and every cry of pain. You tried to ignore the chaos, your gaze drifting to the far horizon, where freedom felt like a distant dream in the blue sky.

But then, a movement to your right drew your attention. You turned your head just slightly, your breath catching when you saw Marcus approaching. His expression was calm, unreadable, though his eyes softened ever so slightly when they met yours. Without a word, he settled into the seat next to you.

“General,” you greeted, your voice low.

“My lady,” he replied, his tone equally soft, though there was a subtle warmth in it.

For a while, neither of your spoke. The sounds of the crowd and the clash of weapons filled the silence between you, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one.

“They love this,” Marcus finally said, his voice barely audible over the noise.

You didn’t reply, too focused on fidgeting with the material of your dress, your fingers twisting the fabric in small, anxious movements. The tension in your shoulders was noticeable, your gaze fixed on the arena below, though it was clear your mind was far from the bloodshed.

Marcus noticed. He always noticed. After a moment of hesitation, his hand moved, gentle, placing it over yours. His touch was warm, steady, and it stopped the restless motion of your fingers.

Startled, you glanced at him, your breath catching as you saw the softness in his expression. There was no judgment, no pity, only quiet reassurance. For a moment, you forgot where you were, the chaos of the arena fading into the background.

But the moment didn’t last.

“Ah, what’s this?” Geta’s voice cut through the din, sharp and mocking.

You flinched, quickly pulling your hand away as Geta turned in his seat, his eyes narrowing as he looked between you and Marcus. His lips curled into a sly grin, the kind that sent a chill down your spine.

“Well, well,” he drawled, leaning closer as if sharing a secret. “Our dear sister has caught the attention of the great general. How… intriguing.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his gaze unwavering as he stared ahead.

Geta leaned back in his seat, his grin widening as an idea seemed to spark in his mind. He turned to Caracalla, nudging him with an elbow. “Brother, I think we haven’t been too generous with our sister, have we?”

Caracalla raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What do you suggest we could do for her?”

Geta’s grin turned wicked, his eyes gleaming with malice. “A little incentive for the games. Let the gods decide her fate.”

Your blood ran cold as you realized what he was suggesting. “Geta, don’t—”

He ignored you, standing abruptly and raising his arms to address the crowd.

“Citizens of Rome!” Geta’s voice boomed over the noise, silencing the arena. “Today, we have a special reward for our brave gladiators. A prize worthy of their strength and valor.”

Caracalla caught on quickly, his laughter echoing through the stands. “Indeed, a prize unlike any other,” he added, his voice dripping with amusement.

You shot to your feet, panic rising in your chest. “Geta, stop this!”

He turned to you, his smile cruel. “Sit down, sister. This is for the glory of Rome.”

You didn’t move, but your voice faltered, your protests drowned out by the cheers of the crowd as Geta announced his decree.

“The victor of this fight,” he declared, “shall win not only their freedom but also the hand of our beloved sister.”

The crowd erupted in applause and cheers, their excitement deafening.

Beside you, Marcus remained seated, his expression unreadable. But you could see the storm brewing in his eyes, the muscles in his jaw clenching as he processed what had just happened.

And for the first time, you saw something in him that you hadn’t before, a quiet, burning fury, one that made you wonder just how far he would go to defy your brothers.

"They offered me as a price." You whispered to Marcus who was offering his arm for you to hold, as you tried to keep your composure.

You felt humiliated.

You felt that men owned you and despised the feeling.

Marcus didn’t respond right away. His arm remained steady, extended for you to hold, a silent offer of support. His face, though unreadable, betrayed hints of a restrained anger—anger that wasn’t directed at you, but at the cruelty of your brothers, the twisted spectacle they had made of your dignity.

“They did,” he finally murmured, his voice low but firm, so only you could hear. “And they will answer for it.”

You hesitated, your hand trembling slightly before resting on his arm. The gesture was subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone else, but between the two of you, it felt like a silent pact. Marcus guided you to sit back down, his movements deliberate, as if shielding you from the prying eyes of the crowd.

“Hold your head high,” he said quietly, leaning just close enough for his words to reach you. “You are not a prize. You are a queen in all but name.”

His words, though softly spoken, struck a chord deep within you. They carried a weight that steadied the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm you—humiliation, anger, and a raw, aching vulnerability you despised feeling. You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to sit straighter, your gaze fixed on the arena even as your chest burned with resentment.

The fight began, the clash of swords and the roar of the crowd filling the air. The gladiators fought with a ferocity that was almost unbearable to watch, knowing that your fate hung in the balance of their blades. You despised every second of it, despised the men in the arena who saw you as a reward to be claimed, despised the crowd who cheered for your subjugation, and most of all, despised your brothers for orchestrating this humiliation.

And yet, as the fight dragged on, your attention kept flickering to Marcus. He hadn’t moved, his posture rigid, his gaze fixed on the arena with an intensity that made your heart race. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, fingers tightening with every blow exchanged below.

“They cannot do this,” you whispered, your voice trembling with barely contained anger. “They cannot decide my life like this.”

“They can try,” Marcus replied, his tone like steel. “But they will not succeed.”

His words were cryptic, but there was something in his voice, a quiet, unshakable resolve that made you glance at him. For a moment, you wondered if he already had a plan, if his mind was racing with strategies to undo the cruelty your brothers had unleashed.

The fight ended abruptly, the crowd roaring as the victor emerged, bloodied but triumphant. Your stomach churned as the man was announced, his grin wide as he looked up to the podium where you sat. You felt Marcus tense beside you, his hand gripping his sword so tightly you feared it might snap.

“Don’t,” you whispered urgently, sensing the storm about to break within him. “Please, Marcus.”

But he didn’t respond, his gaze locked on the victor below. And for the first time, you wondered just how far Marcus would go, not just to defy your brothers, but to protect you from their cruelty.

The victor's triumphant roar echoed through the arena, and the crowd erupted into wild cheers. You couldn’t bear to look at the man below, his eyes alight with the promise of his prize—you. Your stomach churned with revulsion, and your breathing quickened, panic clawing at your chest.

“Come,” Marcus said quietly, his voice cutting through the noise. His hand found yours again, firm but not forceful, and this time, you didn’t hesitate to take it. The heat of his palm against yours grounded you, gave you a tether to hold onto as you stood on unsteady legs.

You didn’t wait for your brothers’ gloating remarks or the smug expressions on their faces. Without a word, you let Marcus guide you away, his presence shielding you from the leering eyes of the crowd. The noise of the arena began to fade as you descended the steps, replaced by the rapid beating of your heart.

The corridors beneath the stands were dimly lit, the cool air a welcome reprieve from the suffocating heat of the arena. You kept your gaze forward, refusing to look back, refusing to give your brothers or the victor the satisfaction of seeing your fear. But inside, you were trembling.

“Marcus,” you finally whispered, your voice breaking. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere they can’t touch you,” he replied, his tone low and steady. His hand tightened around yours, a silent vow that he wouldn’t let you face this alone.

The two of you emerged into the open courtyard behind the arena, the setting sun casting long shadows across the stone walls. The sounds of the crowd were distant now, muffled by the heavy doors that closed behind you. You stopped walking, pulling your hand from his and turning to face him.

“They’ll come for me,” you said, your voice laced with frustration and fear. “They won’t let this stand. Geta and Caracalla—”

“They’ll have to go through me first,” Marcus interrupted, his tone sharp, his brown eyes fierce. “And I promise you, my lady, they won’t succeed.”

You stared at him, his words sinking in. He looked every bit the general now, strong, resolute, and unyielding. And yet, there was something else in his gaze, something softer that made your chest tighten. He wasn’t just protecting you out of duty or honor. There was something personal in the way he looked at you, in the way he stood so close, as though shielding you from the world.

"I can fight in the arena" he said, "for you."

You stared blankly at him, shocked at your core.

"What would you win from that? Do you want to own me like those men?" You asked.

"I do not wish to own you, my lady. You're not property. You're a free woman, and If I win, I'll become your husband and you would never have to endure those humiliations ever again."

"Just because I would be yours." You whispered, still broken at the thought of not being enough.

"You would be my wife, not my property." He clarified, "I will live and fight to keep your honor just as you deserve"

You looked away, heart pounding, his words washing over you like laurels over your skin. A part of you longed to believe him, to let his offer pull you from the grip of your family’s ambitions. But fear clung tightly, rooted in years of being nothing more than a pawn in your brothers' power games.

"General…" you murmured, voice wavering. "If you fight for me, you put yourself in danger. And if you fall, my life will only become darker, lonelier. I don’t want your blood on my hands."

He stepped closer, his eyes steady, fierce. "I would rather risk everything than stand by while you suffer. You deserve a life where you choose, where you're loved, not used."

Your throat tightened, emotions swelling. "But if you fight and lose, you’d be at their mercy. They’d make you a symbol. A warning to anyone else who dares to defy them."

He lifted your hand, pressing it to his heart. "Then let them try," he said, his voice unyielding. "For you, my lady, I would face even the wrath of the empire."

His touch was gentle, but his resolve was unbreakable. In that moment, you realized he wasn’t just a man willing to fight for you, he was someone who saw you as more than a title, more than a sister to emperors. He saw you, truly.

“Why?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why would you risk this for me?”

For a moment, he hesitated, the stoic mask slipping just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the man beneath. “Because you deserve more than to be treated as a pawn in their games,” he said finally. “And because I…” He stopped himself, shaking his head as if the words were too much to say aloud. “You don’t deserve this.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight with emotion.

"Acacius… if you truly wish to do this," you whispered, your fingers trembling in his, "then I will stand by your side, come what may."

He smiled, a rare softness breaking through his stoic exterior. "Then we’ll face them together, my lady. And if they stand in our way…" His eyes darkened, a spark of defiance glinting within them. "They’ll learn that love is a force they cannot control"

"Do you believe you could come close to loving me?" You asked, heart pounding.

His reply didn’t come from words. Instead, he squeezed your hand over his heart.

His words lingered in the air, hanging between you like the delicate balance of a fragile moment. You searched his face, his steady eyes holding yours as if daring you to see the sincerity in them. For all his strength, for all his might as a general, Marcus stood before you as something else entirely. A man laying his heart bare.

Your breath hitched as his hand moved from yours to gently cradle your cheek, his touch warm and careful, as if he feared you might pull away. You didn’t. You couldn’t. Instead, you leaned into his palm, your heart pounding so loudly you thought he must hear it.

“May I?” he murmured, his voice soft and hesitant, as though you were something precious, he was afraid to break.

You nodded, unable to speak, your eyes fluttering closed as he leaned in. His lips brushed against yours, tentative and light, testing the waters of your comfort. It was not the kiss of a conqueror or a man accustomed to taking what he wanted. It was the kiss of someone who had been waiting, who had held back his own desires out of respect for you.

The first touch was fleeting, but when he felt you relax into him, he deepened the kiss, his other hand settling on your waist to anchor you against him. The world around you faded. The distant noise of the Coliseum, the threat of your brothers, even the weight of your own fear. All that remained was the warmth of his lips, the steady beat of his heart beneath your other hand.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet that followed. “Loving you,” he whispered again, his voice thick with emotion, “would be the easiest battle I’ve ever fought.”

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ihavemanyhusbands · 24 days ago

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Aqua Thermae

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Pairing: Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.3k words

Summary: After a particularly great victory in the arena, Lucius is rewarded with both a visit to a bathhouse and you -- a high-ranking courtesan -- to keep him company.

Warnings: SMUT (minors DNI this fic is 18+), reader is a courtesan (so SW), mentions of violence, shenanigans in and out of water, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, maybe some historical inaccuracies? forgive my sins please, and I thinkkk that's it but lmk if anything else!

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It had been a very long time since he’d been somewhere so luxurious. One of Rome’s finest bathhouses brought echoes of a comfortable life long past in the emperor’s palace. The marble pillars and fine mosaic floors, the detailed frescoes on the walls, and a large thermal pool all for himself.

Then other flashes of memory came to him – his mother’s kindness, his father’s armor, his uncle Comodus’ booming voice, and the cross of their swords…

He shucked his heavy breastplate and immediately felt the steam on his already sweat-slick skin. He let out a long sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. If only memories were so easy to get rid of, he might not always feel so tormented.

Lavishness was not something he had ever actively sought out, even if he was entitled to it as the direct descendant to the throne, but it was strange to think he was once accustomed to it. So much had happened since his forced departure, like a hundred lives melding into one.

Now, after a long, grueling fight with a mighty rhinoceros and its fierce rider, he wanted nothing more than to luxuriate in the warm water until his head swam and his muscles no longer ached so badly.

But then he noticed you standing on one side of the pool, a carafe of wine and a platter of dates, cheese, and nuts waiting on a low table next to you. You smiled as your eyes locked and Lucius’ back immediately straightened. Not much took him by surprise anymore, but this certainly had.

“Who are you?” He asked, curious rather than irritated at your presence.

You inclined your head genially. “You may call me whatever you like.”

He huffed in amusement, giving you a once-over. “Very well, then. And who sent you here?”

“Macrinus wanted nothing but the best company for you, his champion,” you said, serving him some wine. “I am to be your prize, along with this bath.”

His eyebrows lifted infinitesimally and he looked away in an almost bashful manner. His profile was proud and handsome, kissed by the sun and the strikes of his opponents. He had the face of a hero history would always remember – Or at least you would, certainly.

He was hesitant at first, unsure if he could trust anything that came from Macrinus. But as he took another look at you, your allure was too great for him not to be stirred. He could tread carefully, but he didn’t really want to deny himself pleasure, however fleeting it may be.

“I take it your company is quite coveted around here?” He asked, approaching to accept the wine you offered.

You nodded in response, fingertips barely brushing his as he took the glass. He held your gaze as he took a sip and you almost lost yourself in the infinite blue of his eyes.

“By the likes of who?” He asked.

“Fierce gladiators such as yourself,” you said pointedly, unable to help your wandering eyes from finding the rippling muscles of his chest. “Merchants. Senators. Even emperor Geta has had his fill of me, but Caracalla was content with just watching.”

“Let us not speak of them now,” he said, shaking his head and grimacing at the names of the bloodthirsty twin emperors. “Within these walls, it is just the two of us. Nothing more.”

You nodded in understanding as he set down his glass on the table. “Would you like me to help you finish undressing?”

“I can manage,” he said, but now his eyes roamed appreciatively over your form, barely covered by a nearly see-through shift. “But I should like to help you, so you may join me.”

“How very kind of you,” you grinned, a salacious edge to your tone.

He stepped even closer, reaching to unclasp the bronze brooch at your shoulder. The shift fell in a puddle of fabric at your feet, your body completely bare underneath. He let out a small, shuddering breath, fingers lightly tracing one of your clavicles.

For a moment, his expression was clouded as something crossed his mind. He stared off into the middle distance, but before he could really lose himself, you decided to intervene. You pulled him in, one hand cupping the back of his head as you went on your tiptoes and brought your lips close to his ear.

“Whatever you’d like to forget, I should really like to help you,” you whispered.

“Everything,” he rasped, one callused hand grasping your hip, while the other gently tilted your head to one side so your lips would meet his.

You tasted the sweet wine on his tongue and breathed him in. He smelled of the arena — blood and sand and sweat. It was not unfamiliar to you, but it was heady coming off of him, fueling your growing desire.

Deftly, he managed to reach between your bodies to undo his pteruges and the loincloth underneath, both joining your shift on the floor. You felt the hardness of his own want against your lower abdomen, but he made no move to hasten things along.

“Come now, let us wash the day off of you,” you said softly, pulling away to guide him into the water.

You waited by the edge for him to submerge himself first, watching the way his muscles worked as he walked. He had the grace of a warrior, as if poised for attack at any moment. You almost shudder at his deep groan of contentment, leaning back against the edge. Sliding closer, you massaged his broad shoulders to try and relieve some of his tension. His hand found your calf, caressing it.

He closed his eyes and let himself be pampered, your touch transporting him far away, beyond even the shores of Ostia. He thought of your luminous eyes, the honeyed taste of your lips, and the smell of rose oil on your skin… What lovely comfort you offered. He wanted more of you and he suspected he would still not have enough.

If winning meant earning moments like this, with you, then he would never let himself be defeated in the arena. Or elsewhere, for that matter.

“My very own Venus Pompeiana,” he said softly, turning around so he could slot his body between your legs and face you. “The Gods seem to be favoring me greatly today.”

You cupped his face tenderly. “Something tells me they will continue to do so, too.”

He grinned, eyes heavy-lidded as they dropped to your lips. “Tell me, did you emerge from the seafoam, too?”

You laughed, delighted at his words. “Yes, I am salt, and brine, and pearls made flesh.”

His strong arms enveloped you, pulling you into the water with him. His lips found yours again and your legs wrapped around his hips, anchoring yourself to him. He submerged both of you for a moment and you chuckled against his lips when you resurfaced.

He kissed you like he might never be able to do so again — like a desperate lover forced to say goodbye before sailing off to war. Your fingers threaded through his damp curls, his beard tickling the lower half of your face. Your head swam and you wished you could spend an eternity there, in that moment.

You let his hands wander a little, getting bolder by the minute, but then you pulled away and playfully swam away from him. A safe distance away, you splashed some water at him, inciting him to give chase.

He swam after you unhurriedly, his head low in the water so that you mostly saw his eyes. You could tell he was smiling from the way they creased at the corners, and you felt a thrill low in your spine as he drew closer. It reminded you of a crocodile pursuing its prey, biding its time before the right moment came along.

A nervous giggle escaped you as you backed away, even daring to splash more water in his direction. He slipped under the water and for a delirious moment of uncertainty, you thought your heart might leap out of your chest. You searched for any sign of him, but the water was cloudy and concealed him well.

Suddenly, you felt the graze of teeth on your hip and you cried out, startled. Lucius re-emerged, shaking water from his hair and cornering you against the edge of the pool.

“Got you now,” he rasped, pressing you against him and bending to kiss your throat.

“Mercy,” you gasped, smiling wide as you amiably submitted to his attention. “Oh, please have mercy.”

He lifted your hips further so that his cock rested against your folds. You tried to move against him as best as the angle would allow and he helped guide you with one hand on your hip.

“Mercy?” he said against your jaw, the deep timbre of his voice like music to your ears. “You see how you’ve got me? I’ve not had any mercy from you.”

You grinned slyly. “You thought I’d yield so easily?”

He hummed, pretending to think about it. “Never crossed my mind.”

“Actually, you make it very hard not to, as much as I like to play,” you conceded, biting your lip.

He chuckled, sucking in a breath through his teeth as he fought the urge to slip inside you and claim you for himself. But not yet, of course, as he wanted to play with you a little while longer too.

“Shall we put you to the test?”

He lifted you out of the water and sat you back on the edge. With one broad palm on your sternum, he gently pushed you backward. Instinctively, your legs hiked up, but you let him be the one to spread them.

He let out a low groan at the sight, his gaze incandescent as it met yours. He kissed your calf, then the inside of your knee, and steadily progressed up your inner thigh as he propped himself half out of the water.

Your hips shifted as he got close to his target, but then he moved to your other leg, repeating the same torturously slow process. You propped up on your elbows to give him a slightly annoyed look and he grinned cheekily.

“How’s that for mercy?” He asked, but before you could respond, his head dipped and his tongue finally found where you were aching.

A breathy Oh escaped you as your back arched, fingers digging into his curls once more. He was just as skilled with his mouth as with a blade, easily finding the tenderest, most sensitive spots. He had you squirming on the tiled floors, the tip of his tongue tracing circular patterns on your clit.

“Gods,” he moaned, the taste of you only making him hungrier and greedier for more.

You tried to grind against his face, chasing the waves of pleasure that already crested over you. His beard added just enough friction to create another layer of stimulation, and soon enough, your eyes were searching for constellations at the back of your skull.

“Lucius, oh, Lucius,” you panted. “You’re gonna make me– Ah!”

He felt triumphant at your trembling under him, more honey flowing from you and onto his tongue. You made soft, almost pleading sounds, holding onto his head as if to anchor yourself. He groaned, prolonging your pleasure for as long as you both could stand it. His blood felt near boiling and yet the only cure for it was you.

Ravenous and near feral, he pulled himself out of the water and crawled over you. Finally – mercifully – he slid into you with ease, going slow and deep at first so you could adjust to him. He watched your reactions closely, feeling himself twitch inside of you — so warm and soft and perfect for him.

But that wasn't the only way he wanted to have you, and every time either of you grew closer to the edge, he changed positions. His stamina was astounding, especially considering he had been fighting for his life only a few hours earlier.

It wasn’t until you were on top of him, his hands aiding the gyrations of your hips, that you could get revenge for all his teasing. You set the pace, finding an angle where you could grind your clit against his pelvis with each move. His eyes roamed over you reverently, like you were the true goddess of love, and he was your subject worshipping at your temple. Sweat slick skin, the bounce of your breasts, your bared throat as you tilted your head backward in ecstasy… He found divinity in all of this.

His self-composure began to dissolve as his grip on you tightened. His brows furrowed and his mouth was slack, his moans spilling out wantonly. He was beautiful, so truly beautiful.

“Don’t stop,” he groaned, his hips positioning upwards to meet your movements.

As you happily complied, leaning forward to kiss him, he lifted his torso to meet you halfway. He cupped the back of your head as his body tensed, spilling his seed inside you hotly. You came harder than before, your cunt squeezing him tightly in time with the twitching of his cock.

Spent, you collapsed on his chest, the two of you sharing a laugh, high on endorphins. He wiped a stray strand of hair from your forehead with even more tenderness than you thought you’d ever experienced. He felt like the most fortunate man in the world, having found something so good in a place as hostile as Rome. He wouldn’t let you go so easily.

“Come to the next games,” he said softly before he could really think about it.

You hesitated. As much as you’d love to see him in action, you didn’t think you could bear to see him get hurt… Or worse.

“You want me to watch you fight?” You asked, trying to keep the fear away from your expression.

“I want you to see me win,” he said without a shred of doubt. “That way, you can be sure that no man can stop me from claiming my reward right after.”

You shuddered, biting down a giddy grin. “I’ll be there for you to find me, my champion.”

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#lucius verus x reader #gladiator fanfiction #lucius verus x fem!reader #lucius verus x you #lucius verus smut #minors dni #lucius verus #x reader

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hislittlesparklejumpropequeen · 18 days ago

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As my emperor wishes

Summary: Emperor Geta and his brother Emperor Caracalla get into one of their usual arguments. Emperor Geta sends him a gift as an apology; you. Warnings: vaginal sex, kissing, bodily fluids, blood, creampie, mentions of killing, sex work, prostitution, drinking, oral sex(f receiving) emotional sex Emperor Caracalla x female!reader

Word count:3.7k

Non-canon events

Since the moment he was born, his younger brother, Geta would always push him down, get on his shoulders and collect all the power he could. For Geta, and for everybody ever, he was just a fool. A fool with a wicked smile and rich tastes that could be easily entertained and kept busy with other matters that did not involve any politicking. He did enjoy his time with his companions and wine and gold. But he could always feel the eyes of people on him. Those pitying eyes that saw him as an idiot and nothing more. It was always Geta who got to get everything in the first place. Best fabrics were shown to him, best armours were forged for him, most luscious whores sent to him, and he had the say in senate before him and after him.

He was so deep into this hellhole that he did not know how to get out of it anymore. His brother possessed all the power of Rome while he had to pretend to be busy with more foolish tasks. He took a sip of his wine as the cool wind of Rome brushed his burning skin and made him take a deep breath in. He was feeling the walls closing in on him and crush him in his chambers. He was wide awake in the night as their subjects were already deep in their peaceful sleep. As he was trying to bring his thoughts and mind together to find some tranquility from the voice in his head that kept him awake, the doors of his chambers were knocked. He sighed in annoyance and called out for person to come in. He wondered what stupid matter had occurred in the night so that they were bothering him.

His doors opened and he heard small pair of footsteps enter his bedchambers. Yet footsteps didn’t reach to the balcony that he was at. They stayed near the door and waited for him turn around. His aquamarine eyes looked back in wonder to see who it was. He was expecting one of the servants or guards that he had always seen in the place, yet it was young woman that he had never seen before. She was barely dressed in the soft looking, maroon-coloured fabrics that were wrapped around her body. Her hair was down, so different than the hairstyles that noble women of the Rome would wear, and he would see everyday. She did not have any jewellery or anything particularly that would show wealth and power. She was almost bare in front of his eyes.

“Your majesty.” You said with a soft voice that made him shiver in the chill of the night. “I’ve been sent to you as a gift, by your brother, the emperor Geta as a gratitude of your service to the state of Rome and your support to him.” You spoke out the learned sentences that were especially taught by your master. The smile on your lips made him part his lips and suck in another deep breath.

“Geta sent you?” He asked, echoing your words as he walked into his chambers and went to fill his emptied goblet with wine. You took courage from him not sending you out immediately and being calm, so you slowly started to approach him.

“Yes, your majesty.” He remembered their argument from hours ago where they both used hurtful words to one another. Geta knew him better than anyone so he was skilled in hurting him deep as he could. He knew his weaknesses and his soft spots. All his insecurities that he could not share with anyone, his secrets that he kept to himself and struggles that he could not get over. Geta was clever and he loved mocking him. So, it was not unusual for them to argue and Geta to send a gift as an apology after. He was gifted with whores many times. Pretty girls, pretty boys, common looking ones, exotic ones, well trained ones. Yet when you finally came near him, he looked at you carefully for the first time and he saw something he has never seen before, pure perfection. You looked at him with the gentlest smile he was ever seen, and your eyes were gentler than your smile if it was possible. He looked at your figure, your visible breast and curves that made his heart skip a beat.

“There is no other with you.” He said, realising that it was only you that Geta had sent. You nodded.

“Yes, your majesty. Emperor Geta chose me himself. Specially for you.” You said, your voice quiet, almost whispering as you got closer to him. You realised his knuckles around the goblet had turned white when there was only a step distance between two of you. His shoulder and arms looked tense.

“Why is that?” He raised an eyebrow with your words. Your smile widened when you took the goblet from his hand and took a sip of his wine. The little drop that escaped your lips trailed down your chin to your neck. His eyes followed the little, red drop. His mouth watered at the sight of your exposed neck.

“His majesty will be my first man, if he wishes it to be tonight.” You said when you offered him the goblet back. He took it and pressed his lips exactly on the spot you just drank from. The warmth of your lips was still lingering on the metal. He felt his manhood twitch under his nightgown.

“You never been with a man before?” He asked, almost not believing it. You nodded and saw his eyes shine with excitement and something you could not quite name. Something that look primal, animalistic that made him looked scary for a second. And for the first time since you entered his chambers, he brought his fingers up and touched you by softly caressing your arm with his fingertips. The touch was so light that you barely felt it. Yet he felt the coldness of your skin that was most likely affected by the chill of the night.

“I’m going to be your first.” He spoke to you or to himself, you did not know nor cared. He drank the last bit of wine and tossed the goblet somewhere you could not see. Then took your hand and led you to the enormous bed that was in the middle of the room. The sheets were not tidy, made you think that he had tried to sleep yet failed before you came to his chambers. You wondered what kept him awake. He sat down and looked up to you, his eyes looking shiny under the moonlight. He almost looked innocent.

“How does my emperor want it to be tonight? This servant of his majesty learned everything there is to know.” He bit his bottom lip when you finished talking and waited for his commands. Did he wanted to toss you around and just use you like a hole? Did he wanted to care only about his own satisfaction and listen to your false noises and praises for the whole night? He looked up to you again. The way you looked so beautiful and ethereal while you were looking down at him. Your eyelashes framing your enchanting eyes that were full of softness, your lips curled upwards and looking so kissable. He found it strange that he wanted to kiss you. He had never desired to kiss any of the whores he spent his nights with.

“I wish to-“he stoped and took another deep breath. You gently cupped his cheek and saw his eyelashes shake as you touched him. Your hands felt cooling and comforting on his skin that was on fire.

“I want to make love.” He said and a sigh of relief left his trembling lips. He did not remember the last time he looked so vulnerable in front of someone. He had always tried to smile without any care, pretend to not hear his brother’s cruel words, fuck his way into banquets and brothels, drink his days away.

“As my emperor wishes.” You said and the wrapped fabrics on your shoulders dropped to your feet with one swift move of your fingers. His shining eyes found your breasts, your belly, your loins and lastly your eyes again. He looked like a hungry lion, and you were his meal. The thought made you tingly between your legs. His uniquely pale cheeks were flushed red, and his breaths were quick, raggedy. You wondered if it was you who made him like this or his won infamous ‘madness’?

“Beautiful…” he whispered, his voice coming like a scared child, a broken man. His fingers found your hips and he brought your figure closer to him. His head, his mouth was right next to your womanhood, his warm breath hitting your pubic bone. You felt the force on your knees failing you, yet you managed to stand still. He opened his mouth hesitantly and his pink, shiny tongue touched your skin. The warmth of his mouth made you breathe out in shock. His tongue danced on your pubic bone and went down to your lips. His mouth covered your pussy, his tongue parting your folds and finding your clitoris. The tip of his tongue was playing with you cruelly as his hands were tight and rough on your hips. You cried out, begging him to show you mercy. And all you got back from him was a chuckle that sounded teasing and mocking.

He moaned into your folds when your fingers found his ginger-blonde hair and pushed his head closer to your little heaven. His nose and mouth were almost buried into you, and you wondered if he was out of breath between your legs. He slowly turned his attention to your already leaking hole from your clitoris that was swollen and throbbing. He dipped his tongue into you, collecting all your juices as his nose was stimulating your clitoris. The taste made his dick twitch and pulse painfully. You saw his seed leaking out of his red, tumescent cock that was rock hard.

“Mercy, your majesty, mercy!” You moaned out as he was still eating you like a man starved. He brought his face away and you saw your juices covering half of his face. His eyes were dropped, and he was breathing fast when he looked up to you again. You saw his eyelashes wet from his teary eyes. You did not want to wait any longer. You were so sure that it was going to be about his pleasure tonight when you were sent to him yet the moment he laid his eyes on you, you wanted him to touch you in places no one has ever did before. Your lips finally met for the first time tonight when you positioned yourself on his lap, in his arms.

His mouth captured yourself immediately, his tongue entering trough your lips and finding your own tongue without wasting any second. You tasted yourself on his tongue when he was whimpering and pushing his crotch up to you desperately. Your wetness coated his cock as he was grinding against your folds, moaning into your mouth. His hand grabbed one of your breasts and his burning fingertips played harshly with your nipple, twisting it, pinching it. The closeness made you dizzy, and you felt all the thoughts on your mind disappear in moments. It did not matter that it was an emperor that you were kissing in this moment. You were woman and man, aching, thirsty for one another. You were in your most human form, and no one could ruin this for you.

His lips traced down to your neck when his fingertips found your leaking, clenching hole that was trying to take something in. He started to suck and lick on the sensitive skin of your exposed neck as his fingers were playing with your entrance. Your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, nails scratching his back as he slowly entered one finger into you. You heard him hiss into your skin when your walls clenched around his single finger. The feeling was immense. You have tried it yourself before, yet your fingers were nothing compared his single digit that made you breath deep and quick.

“Your majesty!” You cried out when his finger started to pump in and out of you. His motion stopped immediately when the words left your mouth. With that you froze in fear. He looked up to your eyes, your eyes that were teary just like his own, looking at him with hunger and impatience.

“My name is Antoninus.” He whispered to you when he broke the eye contact and pressed his head against yours. You gasped when you felt his tears rolling down his cheeks and drop down to your collarbone. Your body was pressed right against him, feeling his shaky, trembling hands on your hips, feeling his hard cock against your entrance, and hearing him sniff. He was crying like a little boy in your arms. Was he always crying when no one was looking? You wondered. Yet you kept your questions to yourself and cupped his cheek to make him look at you. He looked so human with tears in his eyes, rolling down his face, his raggedy breaths leaving his mouth rapidly and his lips glistening with your shared spit. You smiled softly when your own tears started to spill, because of the tingly, burning sensation in your belly or because of the heaviness in your heart, you did not know.

“I look at you, and I see you.” You whispered, almost afraid of the ears of walls and ground of the palace as you took the head of his cock into you slowly. His eyes widened and he threw his head back with a sob. With that his back was welcomed by the mattress of his bed. In this new position, you took him deeper and deeper into you, almost sending both of you over the edge. And when he was fully seated into you, your toes curled with the stingy, painful yet addictive sensation that was building a pressure in your lower belly. Your spine arched like a cat when his hands found your hips again. He grabbed your folds softly yet still reminding you of his strength and lust.

You waited for a moment to let yourself adjust to his length as he was caressing your skin from your hips to your stomach to your breasts. His fingers collected the small sweat drops between your breasts that escaped the wind of the Roman night that was blasting into his chambers. He looked up to you like you were a goddess. In this moment, with his cock in your wet, tight hole, hair down over your shoulders, nipples hard and hips quivering, looking down at him with those eyes that made his heart skip a beat, you were a true image of Venus.

“By Jupiter!” His voice echoed in his chambers when you started to move, up and down on his cock. He held onto your waist like you were the last thing in the world. Your walls were stretching out to make a room for him in you, making you a crying, moaning mess on him. Your hair bounced on your back as you quickened your pace, the noises of skin slapping on skin filled your ears and the sounds of your wet hole squelching around his throbbing member made you blush. You felt him thrust his hips upwards, trying to not have any moment of his cock out of your heaven and the thought of him being so eager for you made you smile in bliss.

You could feel his balls slapping the skin of your hips as he held you by your waist and made you stop to only continue himself by snapping his hips upwards to your loins with an immense speed that made your eyes roll back into your head. Your clit was burning from the friction of his thick, light brown hair. He looked down at your joined parts and saw the small amount of blood simmering both on your and his skin. He pulled his hips back, ignoring your cries of displeasure for a moment to look at his glistening cock that was covered in your blood, juices, his seed and sweat. The view made his stomach tighten in ecstasy. He collected some of the spent that dripped down to base of cock with his fingertips and brought them to his mouth. Then his tongue licked his fingers clean as he looked deep into your eyes and dived his cock back into you. The scene that took place in front of your eyes was your last kick before your legs shook, noises you never heard from yourself left your mouth and your walls tightened around him painfully. He moaned with you and followed you not long after.

You pushed yourself down as he pushed himself up in the heat of the moment. Your skin and bones crushed into one another, and finally you felt his seed shoot right into you. The warmth and the heaviness of his spent made you clench more and more with the urge to milk him. He threw his head back to catch his breath. You were panting like a dog on top of him, walls still tight around his softening cock that kept twitching in you.

“Come here.” He said with a stupid smile on his face and grabbed your arm to pull you down to him. He planted a long kiss onto your lips as his hands started to caress your back with affection that you would never expect from him. You heard him sigh when you felt the cold breeze on your sweat covered back that his fingers were drawing invisible shapes on.

“It never felt like this before.” He whispered, looking up to the ceiling. You looked up to him, seeing him swallow down few times before he looked back at you. There it was again. That innocent boy. It was like he had two different people in the same body. The one that you had your arms wrapped around and the one that had lips wrapped around his cock as he watched people mutilate one another.

“Rome is ours, palace is ours, throne is ours, crown is ours, power is his, and yet you’re mine.” He turned to you and said, tears filling his eyes again. You blinked few times, not knowing what to say. You could feel his spent drip out of you as he was still in you.

“Sometimes I wish that he never existed.” His voice sounded guilty for feeling that way. They were brothers. They had shared a womb together and came to this world together. Geta was the first alive being he knew. They played together as children, trained with swords together, ran off to a brothel in the middle of the night for the first time together. He remembered the times Geta would take the blame for the things he did even tho he was the younger. Geta had always been braver than him. Smarter in some sense. He did not trust anyone but him. Yet Geta was cruel. Not just to others but to him as well. He wished to go back to times when they loved one another without any doubt.

“I wish he was dead.” He whispered not caring if you head or not. Then rolled over to the side of the bed to and closed his eyes. You looked at his naked back, the scars that were work of your nails were red and looked like they were going to stay there for few more days. His breaths were calm and steady, reassuring you that he was falling asleep.

“Don’t leave.” He whispered when he felt you move beside him. The words made you smile, and you went to kiss his cheek. After a moment of silence, he was defeated by his sleep again. You left the bed quietly and walked to the small table to grab a goblet of wine. After looking at this sleeping naked form for the last time, you sat down at the balcony with your wine.

The night was calm and cold. The sounds of birds that were waking up slowly filled your ears as you drank your wine. You could still feel his hands on you. His seed was dripping down your leg and your hips were burning from the marks he left on your skin. The small, enslaving soreness between your legs sent shivers down your spine, making you shake as the cool wind made its way trough your damp hair. You remembered your conversation with the man who sent you to these chambers earlier in the day.

“The moment you get a chance, slit his throat. With a knife in his room or a piece of glass. Anything.”

Macrinus’s words echoed in your ears. He wanted to get rid of the emperors and it did not matter which one was first to go. Would Caracalla get suspicious of his brother sending him a pretty, untouched girl as an apology? He did not even give a second thought to it. But did you want to do it? Did you want to slit his throat in his sleep when he fell asleep with the euphoria from your cunt? He liked you, it was obvious and if you moved smartly, you could be more than just a one-night whore. Would you be something after killing him and staying loyal to Macrinus that basically bought your master because of his debts? Would you be safe? Would you be respected? Would you be loved and needed?

Yet the man who became your first tonight needed someone to save him. Someone to save him from his brother. You got up and left his chambers like the serpent under the flower.

Next week, Geta was murdered in his chambers after an encounter with a whore. The same whore that you saved from getting beaten up for stealing bread from the imperial kitchens, the one that owed you her life. The one that you saw after leaving your emperor’s chambers and the one that cried and fought against killing emperor Geta. The one that cried of fear for the whole night as you returned to his chambers and slid into his arms.

“Don’t ever leave again.” Caracalla said with a sleepy voice as he buried his face into the crook of your neck and inhaled your scent.

“As my emperor wishes.” You said, remembering the girls frighten face from minutes ago and wrapped your arms around his relaxed shoulders.

#gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #gladiator movie #emperor caracalla #emperor geta #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor caracalla x female reader #x reader #x female reader #caracalla being disgusting #kinda emotional #Lady Macbeth reference #fred hechinger #FRED HECHINGER PLEASE ONE CHANCE

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absurdthirst · 29 days ago

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Fruits of Passion {Marcus Acacius x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10.6k

Warnings: SEX POLLEN!!!! War, dubious consent, talk of whores, sexual repression, masturbation, oral sex (male and female receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms

Comments: Sent to wage war on your kingdom, Marcus seeks to minimize bloodshed as do you as your realm's queen. So you feed him fructus voluptatis, which he finds has a very strange affect on him and his army.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Marcus Acacius MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Marcus sighs as he strides down the marble hallway, his sandals slapping and making a noise that echoes. He has been summoned to the emperors and he is reluctant to hear about their latest whim. He nods at the guards on duty and enters the ostentatious room. "Ah General. Welcome. Welcome." Geta coos while Caracalla smirks at a woman who is redressing. Both men are handed a cup of wine by the woman before she leaves. "She is available if you wish to indulge." Caracalla smirks and Marcus rocks his jaw, "I am fully satiated, thank you Caesar." He bows his head slightly and Geta wraps his robe around him and takes the cup of wine from Caracalla's hand. "We want you to conquer more land for Rome...in our name." He says after he has a sip. Marcus frowns a little, "but I just returned." The men look at each other and laugh, "and you shall return again. With more land." Caracalla says, tilting his chin. Marcus knows there is no argument. He must leave. "I shall gather my men." He bows his head and Geta grins, "may Mars bring you home victorious."

****

You stand on your balcony, staring out across the land that your ancestors fought for, that your grandfather and father fought hard for. Heavy is the head that wears the crown and you know that intimately. Their riders kick up dust and you can see the cloud coming closer to your kingdom. "They will be here before sunset. No doubt they will set up camp and rest before they attack. Let us prepare to fight." You turn to your general who nods and bows his head. Once again, you must fight Rome for your home.

The sounds of war are nothing new to Marcus, as wearisome as the sound may be. The whistling of arrows as they slice through the air or the sounds of men screaming as they lay broken on the fields to rot and fall silent. And yet - he has never encountered an army with as much skill and determination as the one he leads. Not an inch of ground has been taken, not succeeded by the ruler of the lands he wishes to conquer on orders from his emperors. Tactics that he had never imagined before used to repel his advances and he is sustaining more losses than he had calculated.

You watch from your balcony as your men fight for their independence. They are trained well, trained by their fathers and their fathers who knew these days would come. "I want to be out there with them." You tell your advisor, Cyrus, who stood alongside your late father. "You are well trained but these men would not hesitate to take you, to brutalize you and use your body as an example to all that refuse Rome. You are where you are supposed to be. Leading from afar so the men have a home to return you, a queen to return to who will offer them glory and reward." You nod, biting your lip as you prepare for losses and to console the wives of those whose husbands fell under your sword.

The siege has lasted for weeks, Marcus sighs wearily as he stares up at the fortified city. He has to commend the generals of this army, they have trained their men well. While he believes this is foolish, he must succeed for his emperor’s. “Raise the flag.” He commands. “I wish to talk to their generals.”

You are surprised when Cyrus enters your chambers and declares that the Romans have asked for a truce. You stand up and adjust your robes, "they shall have their truce but I wish to meet their general. Have an adult discussion." You command and Cyrus nods, bowing his head as he leaves your chambers.

Once Marcus learns that the generals are willing to meet to discuss terms, he takes the time to bathe, wanting to give the appearance of a leader who has nothing to worry about. Dressing in the impressive armor, shiny and oiled, he strides out of his tent to meet the party.

Cyrus is among the men meeting the Roman general and his men. They journey into no man's land and both groups stand opposite each other. "Shall we take this as your surrender?" Cyrus calls out and his men laugh while the Roman's clench their jaws, frustrated by the length of this conquest. They should've been returning home to their warm beds by now. "We are not surrendering." Marcus replies, his voice strong as he steps forward from the lineup. "I want to meet your infamous queen. The one whose name echoes across the Empire." He declares and Cyrus steps forward, "she wants to meet you. Only you." He adds after a pause.

Marcus glances at the general and the men flanked at his sides. He can feel his own men bristle at the suggestion but he holds up his hand. “Very well.” He decides, reaching for the belt that holds his sword. “I will come meet your queen unarmed.” He tells them, “but if I am taken captive or killed, my men will destroy this city by fire.” He warns.

You watch as the food is laid out, meats and cheeses alongside fruits. Copious amounts of wine...it's a feast for your enemy. You know the General will be suspicious of your generosity but that is how your father taught you politics. "He is here, my Queen." Your guard announces and you nod, "send him in." You order and the doors open to reveal the Roman General escorted by Cyrus. You stand straighter and prepare to face the man representing the enemy. "Welcome, General." You greet him coolly, holding your hand out to him.

Surprised by the apparent feast, he takes your hand and bows over it slightly. Unsure of what to call you in these circumstances since he would not call you his queen. “I have heard tales of your courage and beauty, but I find them to be under-exaggerated.” He says, looking up and wondering how you have not already been conquered with a face as beautiful as yours.

You tell him your name, "I do not care for titles" you say as you offer him a smile, lowering your hand from his and you nod to Cyrus, letting him know you will be fine. "And I have heard many stories of the great General Acacius of Rome. You have conquered many lands. but mine will not be one of them. Come, I am certain you are hungry after your battles with my men. I fear my mother would turn in her grave if I was not a good host." You gesture to the table as Cyrus closes the doors, leaving you alone with Marcus.

Marcus appreciates your plain speaking after dealing with the subterfuge and double entendres of Roman society. Especially in the emperors’ palace. ��Marcus.” He tells you, giving you his first name. “Unfortunately, we will take this land because my emperors wish to claim it for their glory.” He sighs. “Perhaps we can come to an agreement so that not too many of your people need to die.”

You sit down and stare at him from across the table. "I would like to counteroffer. You leave now and Rome will not lose more of her soldiers. No doubt your Emperors wish to expand their lands across the sea, I do not understand what my lands have to offer other than territory." You don't mention the natural resources your lands have, it's a well kept secret among your people and why you are so defensive. "I think the easiest solution is you return to your emperors, inform them that my lands are not for the taking, but bring good news that the losses were fewer than anticipated so you have more men for your next conquest." You smile, picking up the pitcher of wine to pour him a cup before you pour your own, setting the pitcher down then you pick up your cup to take a sip.

Marcus watches as you take a sip, wary of a poison that you would offer him. Furrowing his brow when you swallow and smirk at him. “Unfortunately, my emperors would not accept that.” He admits. “They would just send another army, three times the size of the one with me.” He takes his own sip of wine and has to admit that it’s delicious. He sets the cup down and waits to see if it will have any ill effects on him, settling back in the comfortable chair. “You could always surrender now, I would be willing to negotiate fair terms for your people.” He pauses. “And you, as Queen.”

You tilt your head, watching him as you take another sip of wine. “I have told my men to offer food to your troops. I know you have traveled far from Rome and I am certain your supplies are dwindling. You did not anticipate my people to hold out so long. I’m sorry to disappoint, but we will not surrender. I will not surrender.” You declare, “but let us not discuss battles when I am certain you are hungry. Please, eat.” You gesture to the table.

He doesn't know what kind of game you are playing but he watches as you start to pick and choose items randomly from the table to eat. Obviously proving that the food is safe. "Why would you feed my men?" He demands. "It will just allow us to linger here longer. Fight harder."

“Our culture.” You explain, “it would be remiss to not feed a guest, no matter how unwelcome they may be. My ancestors fed their enemies. It is tradition.” You explain, “and I will follow tradition.” You reach for some bread, wanting to show him that you aren’t poisoning him. “This is our local fruit. A delicacy here.” You declare as you pick a piece up and pop it in your mouths humming in content.

He is curious about the fruit, never seeing such a thing before. It looks like it is juicy and sweet, making him hesitate for only a moment before he reaches for the fruit. "Local, you say?" He asks, inspecting it closely and admiring the vivid pink coloring of the fruit's skin before he pops it in his mouth. The emperors would want to try any local resources that they do not have in Rome.

You watch him chew on the fruit, picking up your cup of wine. “Tell me, General, how is your camp? Are you comfortable? Are you served well? Serviced by whores?” You ask nonchalantly, tilting your head and licking your lips as you reach for another piece of fruit.

He nearly chokes on his tongue by the way you ask about his sex life. Managing to swallow the sweet fruit, he reaches for the wine again to wash it down so he doesn't cough. "No." He admits, with a shake of his head. "I do not use the women that frequent the camps." He never has since he had gained rank and privilege.

You hum, letting your eyes trail along his form, covered by intricate armor that has you admiring his strong form. “I imagine they are very upset by that slight. Do you partake in your fellow soldier?” You ask, curious about the General and his tendencies.

His brow arches up at your boldness and he takes another sip of the wine and sets it down before plucking another piece of the fruit from the tray. "No." He chuckles. "I satisfy my own needs when they become urgent." He tilts his head. "Are you always so concerned with the sexual appetites of your enemy?"

You chuckle, leaning forward in your chair, “to know a man’s sexual appetite is to know how he fights on a battlefield. It is easy to ascertain your weakness and you’ve just told me yours, General.” You smirk, licking your lips as you pluck a grape from the tray and place it in your mouth.

He snorts, unsure of what kind of thought process that is, and he shrugs. "So what did I just tell you?" He asks curiously, wondering what you could possibly get from not fucking camp whores.

“That you’re pent up. You haven’t fucked a woman since you have been on the road for many months. You’ve been camped outside my lands for weeks. You must be aching. Yearning for a release, to bury your cock in a woman and find some mind numbing bliss in her. You’re mentally foggy. Frustration can do that. A man with empty balls has a clear mind. He’s not preoccupied with the need to relax, he’s not distracted. That’s your weakness and distracted soldiers make mistakes. You’ll make a mistake.” You finish and cross your arms together to push your breasts up.

He knows the blatant attempt to make him look at your breasts and he smirks as he does just that. He has control, even if his cock twitches under his armor at the soft swell of flesh on display. “Who says my balls are full?” He decides if you speak as crudely as a soldier, he should not temper his own words for the sake of propriety. “My hand can provide a release when needed and I do not have to deal with a whore thinking that because a general ruts between her thighs that she runs the camp.”

You chuckle, leaning back in your seat, and you reach for your cup of wine once more. He’s smart and handsome. If he weren’t the enemy, you’d definitely have him between your thighs for the foreseeable. “You may think the men run the camp but those women work harder, fight harder, than any soldier. They fight to survive in a world that has their death warrants signed. So your hand suffices and you come here now, ready to accept my surrender and then what? You’ll return to your uxor?” You raise your eyebrows, “are you loyal to your wife and that is why you are satisfied with your hand?”

You are impressive and smart. Beautiful and brave. It’s a fascinating combination and if he did not have to conquer your lands, he would be interested in seducing you. “I am not married.” He reveals. “No uxor waiting at home, no lover.” He shrugs. “I will go home and see what next campaigns the emperors would send me on.” It's almost a dreary existence, but he has no choice right now.

You scoff, “they have everything they could ever wish for. Riches beyond imagination. Gold, wine, medicines. Yet it’s never enough. They are greedy and they will be the downfall of the Empire.” You declare with a scoff, “you are not like most Romans. Many would’ve come in here with a concealed weapon to try and kill me. I've had others try. All have failed.” You warn the General and you pick up another piece of fruit, “have another piece. It’s our greatest asset.” You order as you bite into the fruit.

Marcus helps himself to the tasty fruit, reminding him of a sweet cherry, but it’s slightly tart. Delicious and juicy, it makes his mouth water when he eats another. “What is this fruit called?” He asks. “I will have to bring a wagon full back to my emperors.”

You smirk, plucking another piece for yourself, "it's called fructus voluptatis and I am certain it would be wasted on your emperors. They would not appreciate its lingering sweetness." You shake your head, having heard rumors about the indulgent Roman Emperors. "Tell me, Marcus, why do you fight for them?"

Marcus knows that it would be foolish to admit the truth to you, it could get back to emperors, but he is tired of fighting useless causes. Tired of sending men to die. “Because I serve Rome and her people.” He sighs, picking up another piece of the fruit and eating it eagerly. “They are the will of Rome, so I serve them.” He does not say that if he refuses he would be killed, but he’s certain you know that. “If I am leading the army, perhaps I can send a few more sons and husbands back to their families.”

You tilt your head and narrow your eyes slightly, “you are not what I expected, General.” You declare and he chuckles, wiping his lower lip with his thumb, “and what did you expect?” You hum, trailing your fingers along the tabletop, “a beastly, pompous, prick who would do anything to destroy my people and take our land. You are…definitely not beastly. You are here with me when most men would’ve picked up that knife and held it to my neck already.”

Marcus watches your fingers, the image of them trailing over his chest and wrapping around his cock springing to life in his mind and making him shudder. His half hard cock twitching and he coughs slightly and shifts in his seat. “I have no wish to harm you or any of your people.” He admits. “I am a violent man by trade, but not by nature.”

You hum, trailing your finger along the rim of your cup, your eyes looking at him from under your lashes, “I can tell that you are not blood thirsty. You do not take pleasure in your kill so I ask once again what’s your pleasure? Your hand? Do you not want more?”

Marcus feels your question humming through his veins, lighting up desires and needs that he has spent a long time burying under duty and a strict sense of propriety. The emperors may indulge themselves in whatever and whomever they please, but Marcus wishes to treat the people under his direction with respect. He snorts. “Of course I want more.” He grunts, cock twitching again and thickening to the point where it’s tenting the tunic in his lap. Head already weeping with need like he’s been drawing out his pleasure like he sometimes does. It seems to take the edge off for longer. “But I don’t want a woman to crawl into my bed because she feels she has to, or to gain some favor by being my whore.” He admits. “I would have found a woman to enjoy my time with while I was in Rome, but the emperors were too eager to claim your land for their own.” His tongue is surprisingly loose and he frowns as he reaches for another little fruit. They are addictive.

“You’re a handsome man, General. I imagine most women would only be too eager to fall into your bed, give you pleasure like sucking your cock, letting you use their bodies for your frustrations. Without payment of coin. Simply because they want to.” You smile, licking your lips as he chews on the fruit

He shifts again as he swallows, wondering if you think that seducing him will send him on his way without your lands. Shivering again and shaking his head slightly as he reaches for his wine to wash away the way his mouth suddenly waters slightly. He had watched you lick your lips and wants to taste the fruit from them. "I have had my share of lovers." He admits, his voice raspy. "I believe they were all satisfied."

You notice his eyes darken and he fidgets in his seat. You smirk and watch him struggle, the effects of the fruit hitting him. “I’m certain they were. You seem like a capable lover. Nothing worse than a selfish leader. It doesn’t bode well to success. You, General, would be a force to be reckoned with in bed…as well as the battlefield.”

He feels his face flush at your compliment, something that never happens to him. He doesn't fluster easily, but his entire body seems to warm through. "Then you know you should surrender to me." He grunts, imagining you submitting to him in bed rather than surrendering your lands. "I will treat you fairly."

You scoff, shaking your head, “I will never surrender. I would sooner die alongside my people than allow Rome to take my land.” You say as you trail your fingers along your collarbone. “Are you feeling okay, General? You look flushed.” You comment, pouting slightly.

Marcus clears his throat, swallowing again at the excess saliva filling his mouth. "Fine." He rasps out, nodding as if that would make it believable and he downs the rest of his wine quickly before setting the cup down. His eyes slide along your skin with your fingers, watching the innocent move with a hunger to trace that same path with his lips.

You giggle, noticing how affected he is, and you reach for the clip that keeps your robes together. You smirk, seeing his eyes widen as your breasts are exposed to his eyes. “It’s so hot in here. Are you heated, General?” You ask, picking up your fan to try and cool yourself down. “Forgive me for my nudity, I am a little dizzy.”

Marcus chokes out your name, ripping his eyes from your tits even though he wants to touch them. His hands curl into fists so that he doesn’t reach for you. “Is that- do your people just strip down when the heat overcomes you?” He asks tightly, his entire body on fire now and he is starting to sweat.

You continue to fan yourself, leaning back in your seat, “when we are overwhelmed. Of course.” You shrug like it’s nothing and your tits jiggle with the move. “It’s best to have some cool air on your body instead of sitting in silence and suffering.” You coo, “you look overheated.”

He is. He’s so fucking hot right now, so fucking hard. He wants to strip down so he can sink into your cunt and fuck you until you are screaming his name for your entire realm to hear. “Thirsty.” He reaches for the pitcher of wine to pour himself so more, trying to keep his eyes off your breasts.

You smirk, leaning closer and you set your fan down before you cross your arms to rest them on the table. “Drink as much as you want, General. We have plenty.” You see how his chest heaves, the sweat on his brow, “you need more, don’t you?” You guess, knowing how the fruit can take effect.

“Yes.” He croaks out, pouring a large goblet full of wine and starting to down it like a man dying of thirst. “More.” He gasps when he drains the cup and still his body is on fire. His cock is throbbing and he shudders as he shifts in his seat as the fabric of his tunic brushes over the sensitive skin.

You watch how he shudders, “you can touch yourself. It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. It’s our secret.” You wink and cup your breast, “I’m overheated too.” You murmur, moaning softly as you pinch your nipple.

“What the fuck is happening to me?” He groans quietly, swallowing as you palm your tit and moan yourself. “What did you poison me with?” He accuses, glaring at you and clenching his hand into a fist.

You giggle, “it’s not poison. It’s the fruit. It has…lusty effects. You are hard, no?” You ask and he nods, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You need release. You will not be comfortable until you touch yourself, General.” You slide your hand up until you’re palming both tits. “You need to cum. That’s the only way to stop this feeling.”

“Fuck.” He closes his eyes and hisses softly as he tries to control himself. “You- you planned this?” He asks breathlessly. “You ate the fruit as well.”

“I did, but I have a tolerance to it. We eat this regularly.” You are a little heated but not overwhelmed like he is. “You need to touch yourself. You will not feel better until you do. You’ve eaten a lot. You will die if you do not touch yourself. Your heart will only take so much.” You reveal with a smirk and chuckle when his eyes widen.

This has to be some kind of trick. To make him embarrass himself. He shakes his head. “If I die, your kingdom will be razed to the ground.” He reminds you. “You would not put your people in danger.”

You smirk as you stand, letting your robes fully drop from your body, and you step out of the pile gathered at your feet, “your army was given a generous sample of fruit. I’m certain they will be fucking each other senseless by now while my men remove their weapons from under their noses.” You giggle, swaying your hips as you make your way over to the bed behind the silks, eager to touch yourself after having the fruit. You’re still affected somewhat by its power.

“Gods be damned.” You have effectively crippled his army. He knows that if they are half as afflicted by this fruit as he is, they will be balls deep in each other and every available whore in the camp. A veritable orgy. Marcus can barely see you behind the silk and he grips the edge of the chair before he stands, giving into his need to see what you are doing. To see your body again.

You moan as you lay down on the bed, stretching out, and your hands slide along your body, unashamed of your form, and you look up when you see Marcus slide past your silks. "Like what you see, General?" You tease, squeezing your breast.

His breath is ragged, panted out as he struggles for control. “How- how long will this last?” He groans, cock twitching and bobbing heavily under his tunic. He still doesn’t touch himself, but he watches you.

"Depends. If you refuse to pleasure yourself, it will be a slow death. If you find pleasure, it will leave your system in hours." You hum, pinching your nipple and you are soaking wet as you trail your eyes down to the tent in his tunic.

Marcus grapples with the issue at hand. He could not believe you, but why would you lie? You are lying naked on a bed, touching yourself. He groans as you press your thighs together and then spread them to let him see your curls wet with arousal. “Fuck.” He swallows harshly as reaches for the ties of his armor.

You watch him as he starts to strip his armor. He's so broad and it's not just the armor that fills him out. He's strong and although his stomach is softer than younger soldiers, he has your folds dripping wet as you watch him expose his body inch by inch. "Touch you. I want to watch you touch yourself." You demand, adding a moan when your fingers slide through your folds.

He raises his chin defiantly, but he knows that he needs to touch himself. His cock is dripping onto the floor and he hisses as he watches you revel in the pleasure of your own touch. Spitting into his hand and reaching down to wrap his hand around his cock with a relieved groan at just that simple touch.

You watch him with lust filled eyes. You never intended to touch yourself, you wanted to watch him fall apart before you, but he has intrigued you. You slide your fingers up to rub your clit, "you are magnificent, General."

He just holds his cock in his hand, squeezing it to relieve the pressure. “You are perfect.” He counters. “Wars would be waged over your beauty, your hand being battled for to the death.”

You hum, pleased by his reaction, and you pull your hand away from your cunt, shifting onto your knees to get a little closer to him. "would you fight for me, General?" You ask, raising your eyebrows.

“Yes.” He breathes the admission out without a second’s thought. Groaning as his cock twitching in his and he rocks his hips forward just a fraction of an inch, jerking himself into his grip. He wants to bury his tongue in your cunt while he strokes his cock to see if you taste like the fruit you has tricked him into eating.

Pleased with his answer, you grin as you slide your hand down your body until you’re rubbing your clit again. You moan and watch him as he fists his cock, “stroke yourself. I want to watch you take your pleasure.”

It's like he cannot deny you. Marcus throws his head back and hisses quietly as his hand starts to move. Slowly and achingly sliding up and down the length of his cock as he stands with his feet braced apart. Right now your soldiers could come in and strike him down, but he doesn't care. The pleasure from the slow, tight stroke is too much.

You watch him, smirking in satisfaction at the way his jaw drops. He looks so blissed out and you haven’t even gotten started. “That’s it, General. Touch yourself. You look so good like this.” You hum, continuing to rub your clit as you kneel on the bed. “Does it feel good?” You coo, shuffling a little closer.

“So good.” His nostrils flare as he pants out breath, losing control over himself as the need consumes him. His eyes are fixed on your bare body and his hips lurch forward into his grip, as if propelled closer to you, but he barely manages to stop from stepping forward. He will not have you accuse him of attacking you. “This- it hurts.” He groans, a spurt of liquid dribbling from the tip of his cock. “And feels so good.”

“I know. I know.” You nod, pouting slightly in sympathy. “It will get better. You need to spill your seed. Can I - I want to touch you.” You declare, shifting a little closer, “can I touch you, General?” You ask, continuing to rub your clit.

Marcus gnashes his teeth together, but it can’t repress the whine that comes out of the back of his throat. He should say no, he would say no if it were for the burning need that is clawing under his skin, humming through his entire body. “I- I am your- your guest.” He pants out. “You can do anything you want.”

You grin, loving his answer, and you shuffle closer, kneeling on the bed after pulling your fingers away from your clit. “You’re so gorgeous.” You murmur. You want him, want to taste him. You lean forward to take the head of his cock into your mouth when he squeezes his cock.

He chokes out your name, unable to believe that a queen has his cock in her mouth. That you are touching him in such a way. His stomach heaves and he’s embarrassed by the next spurt of pre-cum that leaks out, flooding your mouth, although he’s not even close to orgasming yet.

You moan around him, shifting your weight onto one hand to cover his hand with yours, squeezing him at the base as you take him a little deeper into your mouth. The salty taste of pre-cum has you humming around him and you watch his neck clench as he twitches in your grip.

He should pull his hips back. He should redress and go warn his men about eating the fruit, although he knows they most likely already have. The soldiers are always eager for any fresh fruits they can get their hands on, so it would have been readily accepted. He moans and lets go of his cock, reaching for your cheek and his hand is gentle as he caresses it.

You moan around his cock, taking him even deeper, and you love the way his broad chest heaves. Your other hand caresses a scar on his thigh and you watch him as you hollow your cheeks, sucking on his thick length.

It’s been a long time since he’s received this kind of pleasure. He hisses when your tongue presses against the sensitive head. His fingers curling around your jaw and applying the slightest pressure to it to lift your eyes up to him.

You moan around him, loving the dark look on his face as he watches you suck on his cock. Your hand trails along your stomach and down to your pussy, cupping yourself before you start to rub your clit while you bob your head.

Marcus grips the back of your head, growling incoherently. Enjoying the way you touch yourself without apology. If you weren’t sucking his cock, he’s sure this room would be filled with your moan. “Gods.” He hisses, his body sweating and throbbing with need.

You hum around his cock, loving how he twitches in your mouth. You’re dripping wet as you slide your fingers through your folds, and you close your eyes when he rocks his hips, pushing his cock a little deeper.

His body is so tightly wound, so primed, that the next time your throat closes around his shaft, Marcus is cumming. With a shout of pure relief, he starts to spill down your throat in hot ropes.

You swallow him down, humming around his length, and it’s too much that his cum starts to slide down your chin. When he finally stops twitching, you pull off of him with a gasp, trying to catch your breath and you know you look messy with his cum dripping off your chin.

You look gorgeous covered in his seed. Thoroughly debauched and still his hard cock aches for more. His fingers slide through his cum to grip your chin. “Let me fuck you.” He demands roughly. If you say no, he will have to stroke his cock again, the fever still spiking his blood.

You grin, shifting to lay down on the bed. You slide your hand along your chin to gather his cum so you can lick it from your palm. “Come and fuck me, General. Take me how you want.” You demand, spreading your legs to show him how wet you are.

Your cunt is dripping, glistening in the light of the day and the torches on the wall. Even though his cock is twitching to be buried deep, he lunges forward on the bed, kneeling between your thighs and he dives into your folds face first, his fist around his cock and his moans being breathed into your sex.

You cry out, moaning as his tongue slides through your folds. You didn’t expect him to do that and his mouth is wet and hot as he laps at you. “Fuck, General, you are eager.” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his damp hair.

He is eager. It’s been so long since the taste of a woman has been on his tongue that he is ravenous. He doesn’t pull away to answer, simply groaning into your folds as he doubles down on his efforts to make you cry out again.

You moan breathlessly, arching your back slightly as you lift your leg onto his broad, strong shoulder. You’ve had many lovers and no one has been this ravenous when lapping at your cunt. “General. I need - oh gods.” You moan when he sucks on your clit.

He’s not been so long without a woman that he doesn’t remember what drives them crazy. The little nub of flesh that puffs out from between your lips is so sensitive to his attention. He groans when your fingers tug at his hair and makes his scalp burn. His hand around his cock starts to pump his length as he sucks.

You hear him pumping his cock as he sucks on your bundle of nerves, making you throw your head back and fall apart. Your moan turns into a cry as he pushes you over the edge and your thighs tighten around his head.

You are falling apart, squeezing his head between your thighs and soaking his face with your release. Making Marcus groan as he moves down to lap it up eagerly, wanting to see if you taste as sweet as the fruit you tricked him with.

He works you through it and you whimper, tugging on his hair as he laps at you until it’s too much. The fruit has affected you too and you’re desperate for him but you won’t let that show. You drag his face away from your cunt and he groans, shifting onto his knees, your slick shining on his face. He’s pumping his cock as he shuffles closer and you shake your head, reaching down to cup your cunt. “I want you to beg for it.” You smirk, wanting to see him struggle.

He clenches his jaw, his lips firmly pressed together in annoyance that you would deny him now. You had caused him to be in this state by feeding him that fruit and he hates how he wants to beg. It’s on the tip of his tongue but he can’t do it.

You chuckle, keeping your hand in its place. “I can take care of myself, General. I have many times after eating the fruit. Can you? Your jaw is clenched. Your brow is shiny with sweat. Your cock looks like it’s throbbing, dripping with need. You can touch me. Fuck me. Take what you want. All you need to do is beg.” You coo, shifting your leg to slide your foot along his thigh.

He bites his lip, nearly breaking the skin. “Let me fuck you.” He groans, continuing to stroke his cock. “You want me. You want my cock. I see it in your eyes.”

You giggle, sliding your foot across to press against his cock. He groans and twitches under your touch and you press harder. “Not enough to give in so easily. Beg more. I want to hear you whine.” You demand, wanting to hear him.

Marcus hisses in anger but his body betrays him. Hips rocking up to grind against your foot. “You wish to humiliate me?” He growls. “Show your power over me?” He knows that’s what you want, but he is rapidly forgetting why he cares. “Fuck me then.” He compromises. “Ride my cock for your pleasure.” He groans. “Use me.”

Smirking, you slide your foot from his body and shift to kneel. “Lay down.” You order and he growls but follows your demand, laying down beside you. You shift to straddle him, batting his hand away to grip his cock. “You’re impressive, General.” You hum as you lift up and position him at your entrance, keeping your eyes on him as you start to sink down onto his length.

Your cunt is hot and tight around him. Making him groan and his hands bruise your hips with their hard grip. He grits his teeth, the urge to flip you over and hammer into your soft body barely resistible. “Gods.” He hisses out.

You pant as he stretches you out. It’s been a long time since you’ve taken a man this thick. “Move.” He demands through gritted teeth, and you chuckle, reaching for the hands on your hips. He reluctantly lets you release his grip and you lift his arms over his head, pushing his wrists into the bed as you start to rock on top of him.

He’s vulnerable like this, you can stick a knife in his ribs before he could react. Right now, he’s not worried about that, occupied by the way your cunt squeezes around his cock as you roll your hips. A queen is fucking him, using him for your pleasure, and he’s groaning while watching your tits bounce in his face so he lunges up to wrap his lips around a nipple.

You moan when he sucks on your nipple, your walls clenching around him, and you close your eyes. He could easily overpower you, he’s strong, but you have him entranced by your cunt. “Oh gods, General. You - you fill me so well.” You compliment him breathlessly as you rock down on his cock.

He hums in agreement, biting down on your nipple and sucking again when you moan in pleasure. You are wanton and sensual, swiveling your hips and grinding down on him as you chase your pleasure. “Touch yourself.” He grunts against your breast. “Cum on my cock.”

You pant, letting go of his wrists and you balance yourself on your palm as you reach down with your free hand to rub your clit. His deep voice has you shaking above him as you use his body for your pleasure. “Fuck. I- I am going to -" You cut yourself off as you fall apart on his cock, clenching down around him.

Marcus groans, his body tensing and he uses the moment to flip you into your back. Growling your name as he plants his knees as starts to fuck you. Needing to feel it again and again, even as your cunt spasms around him. “Fuck.” He hisses. “Cum again.”

Your cry echoes as he fucks you hard. He looks dangerous above you, his eyes black as he pushes into you like a man possessed. Your hands scramble to cling to him, knowing that all you can do is hold on.

You cling to him rather than pushing him away, spurring him on. His hips snapping forward sharply and making your entire body jolt as he drives into you. Groaning in pleasure at the way you yield to him, submitting to his need. He’s close, the fever in his system driving him to thrust harder and harder.

“You can fill me up. I have a tea to make sure I don’t - not with child.” You promise, wrapping your legs around him to push your heels into his ass. “Fuck. You feel so good.” You moan, your whole body bouncing with his thrusts.

Your words tip him over the edge, body going taunt and the vein on the side of his neck bulges as he buries his cock deep. Throbbing as he paints your walls with thick ropes if his sticky seed while he moans your name.

You watch him as he falls apart, filling you up, and you whimper, “you are a force to be reckoned with, General.” You love how hot his seed is as it paints your walls and his cock pulses inside you.

His eyes, closed as he rides out his high, open and focus on you as soon as the last spurt of his seed has been spent. He’s still achingly hard and his need for you burns under his skin. “Not done.” He growls, starting to move again as he lunges towards your lips for a kiss.

Moaning into the kiss, you cup his stubbled cheek and eagerly tangle your tongue with his as he takes control. You rock your hips up, needing more and he gives it to you. Rocking into you a little faster and your pussy squelches around his length as he pushes his seed out.

“You have to need to cum again.” He grunts, pulling away to kiss along your jaw. “Want to hear you cry out again.” He huffs out a reluctant chuckle. “Brave and bold, afflicting yourself with the same need.”

You nod, “yes. Yes. I need it. Give it to me.” You demand, clenching around him and he almost bends you in half to get deeper, achieving his aim as he hits something incredible inside of you. “Fuck. Oh yes. Fuck. Do that again.” You cry out your demand.

Grunting and smirking, Marcus repeats the action again and again, loving how you moan and squeal for him. He feels that you are close to falling apart again, body drawing up and starting to tighten. “Cum.” He orders.

You understand now how so many men would follow him into battle, his voice and his authority is intoxicating. You moan, unable to deny him as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him as you fall apart beneath him.

Marcus growls, loving how you soak his cock as he rocks into you. Fucking you through the orgasm that is making you shake underneath him. “Gods.” He hisses, continuing to hammer into your squelching cunt.

“Fu-uuu-ck.” You moan breaks and continues with each thrust to push you through your pleasure and your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath. “Oh my - fill me up, General. Please. Want - I want it.” You demand, needing to see him fall apart above you again.

His teeth snap together harshly, lips curled up as he ruts into you. “Fuck!” He hisses, knowing that he’s close but he continues to fuck you with abandon. His hands are hard on your body as he finally stiffens with a shout that is equal to a war cry, throbbing and spilling inside you again.

You know he’s going to leave bruises but you love it. You moan, caressing his chest as he looms over you, “that’s it. That’s it.” You coo, watching him as he ruts through his ecstasy.

Marcus is panting as he finally stops moving, collapsing on top of you and pinning you to the bed as he tries to catch his breath. “Fuck, fuck.” He breathes out, finally feeling like he can breathe without wanting to fuck.

You hum, smiling against his chest, and you hear his heart pounding. You lower your legs from his hips, feeling your pulse race as you try to catch your breath. “It was a pleasure fighting against you, General Acacius.”

He snorts, shaking his head when he finally lifts his head and looks down at you. Knowing that you have bested him and he is honor bound to admit defeat. “My army will withdraw in two days time.” He tells you. “They will need a day to recover from their…activities.”

You chuckle, caressing his cheek and you lean in to kiss his lips softly. “As I said, it’s been a pleasure, General.” You murmur and kiss his chin. He sighs and pulls out of you, letting you spread out on the silk sheets and smile in bliss. The burning sensation in your belly satiated and your people protected. You’ve done what you set out to do.

****

True to his word, the Roman army starts to pull back, packing wagons and animals with supplies and the army, still a little sore from the orgy from days before, begins the long march back to Rome. Marcus states at the walled city, wondering where you might be right now, frowning slightly. Retreat and defeat are foreign concepts, but he was a man of honor. He would take his punishment from the emperors when he returned to the capital.

****

You sigh as you set your scroll down, looking out at the expanse of your lands. Prosperous and free since you sent the Roman army packing. Your people are thriving, they love their Queen and you have protected them from invasion. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when your advisor enters, head bowed. “There is a General here to see you.” You frown, “where is he? Take me to him.” You demand and your advisor escorts you to where he is waiting. You know who it is. You often wondered if he’d ever return and you expect he has his army waiting instructions. You enter the room with your head high, “General Acacius. What an unexpected surprise.” You hold your hand out towards him, your stomach twisting with arousal at the broad shouldered soldier standing before you.

It has been four years since he left these lands. Four years of jabs and comments from the emperors. Feigned disappointment and foul treatment of him by the spoiled brats until the people of Rome had turned on them. Disposing them and installing new leadership. Leaving Marcus with a decision to make. “My lady, your highness.” This time he uses your honorific and bows his head. “However, I lied to your advisor.” He admits. “I am no longer General Acacius of Rome.”

You frown, “then who am I speaking with?” You ask, shaking your head when your guards stiffen. “I am simply Marcus Acacius.” You nod in understanding, certain that he’s lost everything because of your deception. “I’m sorry.” You sigh, “I don’t doubt that you’ve had a difficult time from your Emperors.”

“The emperors have been overthrown.” He informs you. “The current emperor has no interest in your lands, your highness. Peace has been offered and I have brought you a promise of that.” He reaches into his tunic and slowly pulls out the scroll when the guards reach for their weapons.

You hold your hand up to get them to stand down before you take the scroll. You unravel it and scan the words, your eyes widening, “they have assured me that our lands are no longer wanted. We will be left alone.” You are shocked and pleased, looking at Marcus, his brown eyes soft as he watches you. You hand the scroll to your advisor just as footsteps echo down the hall. “Mama! Mama!” You hear your son as he runs towards you, arms open as his nanny runs behind him, trying to keep up with him. “Hello my love.” You coo, picking him up, and you cuddle him close.

Marcus watches as a child, a boy of no more than three, hugs you and presses into your body and kisses your cheek. “I missed you, mama.” He pouts, frowning fiercely at you and it makes Marcus’s heart pound in his chest. He knows, without a doubt, this is his child. He had planted his seed in your womb when you had drugged him.

You can tell he knows the truth and you hold your son close. “I really did take a tea. It was never my intention to become with child. With your child.” You promise him, “and I am sorry for any deception. I had to protect my people. You can go. No one will harm you.” You promise, “and I thank you for the news you have brought.”

Marcus might have attacked your realm on orders from his emperors, but he had no ill will towards you or your people. Watching his son look at him curiously and finding that the boy has his eyes and the edges of his ears curl like Marcus’s does makes his choice easy. “I have nothing in Rome to return to.” He tells you. “No wife, no family, no army.” He might add that to make you feel a little guilty. “I had also come to provide you with another guarantee that Rome would never attack you.” He tells you. “I wish to serve you. Help guard your people.” His eyes are on his son but they shift to you. “You have been my only defeat in war - in life.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You never imagined that he’d return alone. Perhaps he’d return with an army to defeat the woman who bested him but he wants to serve you instead. “I- wow. This is - quite a shock. But you are welcome here.” You promise, “you shall have a room in the palace. You will be honored as the father to the next king. You have my word that no one will treat you poorly. I wish to have you here.” You add, knowing that you’ve thought about him every day since the day he left with his army in tow.

Marcus never expected you to agree, to want him close. He nods. “I will serve you faithfully.” He vows, wanting to reach out and touch you. You have been on his mind since he had left, remembering your wit, and your body with a desire to see you again. The senate had known of his unhappiness in Rome and had released him from his commitments to her, knowing he would come back. He had left a piece of himself here, more true than he had realized.

You offer him a smile, “Marcus, this is your father.” You introduce your son for the first time. “He went away but he’s back now.” You explain simply, “and he wants to meet you.” You shift the little boy in your arms whose eyes widen, “papa?” He asks and turns to look at Marcus. He wiggles in your grip and holds his arms out towards his father.

Marcus’s eyes widen, surprised that you had named your son after him. He has not held many children in his life, but he is immediately reaching to take the boy. Amazed at how trusting he is as little arms wind around his neck. “Marcus.” He murmurs, looking the boy over in wonder and holding him close. “That is my name as well.” He tells him. “How old are you, son?”

Your son ducks his head, suddenly shy, until he looks at you and you nod, smiling at him. “Thwee.” He answers, still speaking with a slight lisp as he tries to get his pronunciation of words. “Marcus is your name too?” He asks and Marcus nods, “it is.” You rub your son’s back, “this is your papa.” You remind him and Marcus looks at the older man, “papa.” He grins and cuddles him.

Marcus swallows harshly, choking up slightly at the easy acceptance from his son. “Son.” He hums softly, rubbing the little boy’s back as he glances back at you. “Do you like to play with wooden swords?” He asks, knowing that he had watched young children play like that. “I do.” He pulls back and gives a wide grin that Marcus can’t help but copy. “We will have to play together. I play with wooden swords too.”

Your smile widens when your son nods, “yes, papa.” You rub his back for another moment before you squeeze Marcus’s shoulder. “I’m sure you are tired after your travels. Please, take a room and we will bring you food and you can go to the baths to clean up.” You tell Marcus, who nods, “thank you, your highness.” You tut and shake your head, telling him to call you by your name. Your servants rush around after your words to prepare everything for Marcus.

Soon, Marcus is groaning as he relaxes in a hot bath of fresh water, clean and feeling refreshed. Amazed that he hasn’t been turned away and even more amazed that he has a son. The wine next to the bath has been half drunk, but he hadn’t eaten any of the food that was sitting on the tray. He would rather talk to you first.

You look up when there’s a knock at your door, calling out for them to enter, and you sigh when you see Marcus walk into your quarters. “General.” You tease, standing up as he walks towards you in a tunic, looking fresh after his long journey. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, stepping towards him.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Marcus shifts slightly, eyes roaming over you as you look up from something you were reading. “I - Marcus-“ he falters slightly. “Will I have a role in the boy’s life? Help train him, or would you prefer that not happen?”

You nod, “you’ll be his father if you wish to be. I have no desire to keep him from you or not let him know his father. We are not Rome, we are not Roman. We do not cast aside our people because of marriage or birth. Our son will be the next ruler of these lands and I wish for him to be skilled in fighting, in tactics. Together, I believe we can raise a fine King for my people.” You offer Marcus a smile, “and I want you to be there for every moment. I’m sorry you’ve missed so much. I truly did not intend to become with child after our coupling and I took the tea but our son…he’s stubborn. I did not know where to send word about his birth. I didn’t want the news to get into the wrong hands.” You explain, hoping he understands.

Marcus nods, understanding even if it was disappointing. “Have you taken an uxor?” He asks softly. “I must confess that I have thought about that day, about you, every day since I left in defeat.” He knows you could laugh, or send him away, but he needs to be honest with you, you have been honest with him.

You smile, reaching up to cup his cheek, “I have not taken an uxor since the man I imagined being my uxor left with his army to return to Rome.” You confess, caressing his cheek. “I know we barely know each other. How could I possibly love a man I don’t know? Yet I do. I know you must be angry with me for my deception but I want you if you will have me.”

“It was war.” He reminds you. “Deception is called for, and expected. It also kept more bloodshed from happening.” He covers your hand with his own. “Are you sure you would like a former Roman general as your lover? Surely men must vie for your hand.”

You scoff, sliding your free hand to his chest, “the men of my lands might vie for my hand but too many of them are eager for power. They wish to become king, take power from a ‘feeble woman’. You are here to serve, not to conquer me. You would not just be my lover, you’d be my companion, my confidant, my advisor.” You promise, “I want someone to support me as I lead our people. I want a partner.”

Marcus thinks on your words before he nods. “I have no allegiance to Rome any more.” He promises you. “My allegiance will be to you, my queen, and my son, my future King.” He steps closer to you. “Perhaps I can help train your army, but I will perform any role you wish me to have.”

You grin, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, “you might be able to teach my men a thing or two about battling the Romans.” You smirk and lean in to press a soft kiss to his chin. Marcus grabs your waist and tilts your head to press his lips to yours. You moan into his mouth, loving the way he pulls you close and you realize the electricity between you wasn’t just the fruit.

Marcus groans quietly and deepens the kiss, you closer to him and feeling his body starting to react to your nearness. It’s not because of the fruit, it’s because of you.

You whimper when his hands slide down to squeeze your ass, his tongue pushing into your mouth and you moan, letting him walk you backwards until you’re pressing against the wall. “I need you Marc.” You plead when his mouth presses against your jaw, “now. Fuck me.”

He hums, breaking away from your lips to kiss down your jaw. “Yes, your highness.” He teases. “I am but your humble servant. This time it’s not because of the fruit that I need to fuck you though.”

It's like a fire is ignited as you fumble to tug his tunic up, wrapping your fingers around his hardening cock to pump him while he bunches your dress up your body to gather at your waist. "Definitely not the fruit." You murmur when he kisses your neck, panting into your skin when you squeeze him, "all because of you, General. My General. My - my love."

Marcus moans your name, accepting now that the fever he feels right now is just because of his feelings for you. His fingers slip under your dress and he finds you already wet. “Have you been thinking about this since I arrived?” He teases as he starts to slowly rub your clit.

You nod, “yes.” Your response is breathless and you whimper his name as he teases you while you pump his cock. “I imagined you taking me while I was sitting at my table, reading my scrolls. Imagined you bending me over and claiming me again and again.”

Marcus growls as he bites down on the juncture of your shoulder. “I imagined fucking you while I was riding my horse on the way to Rome. Seated on my cock while the horse moves. In my bed while I was in Rome.”

“Yes. Yes. I’m yours.” You promise, “please just - I need you inside me.” You whine and he nods, reluctantly pulling his fingers from your clit and he bats your hand away so he can lift your thigh and position himself at your entrance. “Please.” You whimper which transitions into a moan when he starts to push into you.

It’s rough, sex against a wall is far less than a queen deserves, but you seem to love it. Kissing along his neck and moaning into his skin as he fills you up. “Fuck.” He pants, pressing you harshly into the wall. “You are so fucking tight around my cock. Never would have known you had our son.”

You gasp when he pushes into you, his fingers finding your other thigh to lift it so your weight is fully pressed into the wall. "You're so big, amor. So strong. My lover." You moan, wrapping your legs around him as he squeezes your flesh.

He chuckles and starts to move inside you. “A lifetime of battle and blood.” He pants, loving the way you are squeezing his cock. You are so responsive to him.

You caress his chest, kissing his jaw, “and you have a new cause to fight for. I want - I want our son to be as strong as you. I want him to be a great leader like his father.” You murmur, sliding your hands along his shoulders, admiring how broad he is

Marcus groans, moving slowly, showcasing his strength as he rocks into you while keeping you pressed against the wall. “You will teach him politics, I will teach him to fight.”

“He will be a force to be reckoned with.” You gasp when he adjusts you and the angle has him pushing against something delicious inside you. “Fuck, this feels just as good as the first time.”

He can only groan in agreement, kissing you again as he tries to continue to hit that angle again. Loving how your walls clench around him and milk his cock. The magic of the pleasure between you hadn’t been a fluke or because of the fruit. He’s just as desperate for you to cum for him now.

You whimper as he pushes you higher up the wall with each thrust and you slide back down as he pulls back. "You are going to - I'm - oh. Oh. OH!" Your cry echoes across the vast room and you clamp down on his cock, crying out his name as you fall apart for him.

He growls in pleasure when you soak him, your juices dripping down his cock and onto his thighs. “That’s it,” he grunts harshly. “Cum for me. Shake apart for me.”

His cock continues pushing into you and you can't do anything but cling to him, watching as he clenches his jaw. You want to feel him again, no matter the consequences, you need to feel him fill you up. "Cum for me, General. My General." You coo, leaning in to kiss and nip at his jaw.

Closing his eyes, he buries himself deep. Groaning your name in a whimper as he floods your womb with his seed. Coming home to you physically and spiritually. He had come to conquer your lands on behalf of Rome but had been defeated, leaving behind his heart when he left. Only to find that he has a place here, with you and the son you created together. All of this was brought about by the fruits of passion.

#pedro pascal #marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x f!reader #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius imagine #marcus acacius smut #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii

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ho-for-joequinn-fics · 24 days ago

Text

You Are Worth It

Emperor Geta x f!Reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY! Minors DNI or you will be blocked! mentions of murder, possessive!Geta, unprotected p in v smut, rough sex, slapping, choking, creampie, profanity, etc.

summary: You’ve fallen in love with one of Rome’s crazed Emperors and he with you. Your family hates it and have been plotting behind your backs to find a way to get you back home to them, but those plans change when word of mouth reaches Emperor Geta and he decides they have to be dealt with.

Emperor Geta was good to you, he treated you the way you deserved and loved you more than anyone thought possible of him. There was a side to Geta that no one else saw, a side that was only reserved for you, but with a side so hidden how could your family truly know that he could be trusted with your heart?

You were the youngest of four siblings and the only daughter to your parents. Your three older brothers were part of the Roman army and were sent out to war by Emperors Geta and Caracalla quite often. Despite their constant lingering absence, they still did their best to make sure you were safe at all costs. It wasn’t until their return from an almost six month journey that they discovered you’d been seeing Emperor Geta and now living with him.

Your brothers felt they’d failed you, but they also took their disappointment out on your parents for not trying to protect you while they were away for so long. Your dad may have been a retired soldier, but that didn’t mean he lacked the strength to protect you. No, he was just too afraid of the consequences if he even dared try to take you back from Geta’s clutches. But with your brothers back from the war, they and your parents were now plotting a way to get you back home and as far away from Emperor Geta as possible.

None of them knew that you’d been sneaking around with Geta long before your brothers’ six month absence, it was only then that you felt it was safer for you to see him publicly without the worry and fear of your brothers catching you. A big part of you hoped they’d have gotten killed while they were away, a pretty morbid thought regarding your own brothers, but your love for Geta was far stronger than the relationship you had with them.

Your parents had expressed their disappointment when they finally found out you were seeing Geta, but you didn’t let that get to you, you told them that you were in love with him and he with you and that nothing they could say would ever change that. They hated that they were losing you to someone so evil, which was why when your brothers returned from the war they decided to devise their plan to get you back and keep you away from Emperor Geta whether by force or finding a way to kill him.

A month had gone by since your brothers returned home from the war and they were discussing amongst themselves your family’s plan to kill Geta and bring you home while they were preparing for yet another upcoming journey to conquer another country the Emperors felt needed conquering. They talked about how they hoped to get the deed done before they left again for war, but one of Emperor Geta’s loyal soldiers overheard their discussion and sent immediate word to Geta who was enraged at what he was told. It was then that he devised his own plan to have your family killed, every last one of them, because only he could have you.

The same soldier that overheard your family’s plan was who Geta entrusted to do his dirty work, which was to kill your three brothers first and then take out your parents. He felt it was smarter to start with your brothers, that way your parents had no protection when they were to be killed in their sleep. Killing your brothers was easy, all their fellow soldier had to do was slip enough poison into their wine to kill them within minutes. Your parents, well they were strangled in their sleep one by one, so the deed to kill your entire family was a piece of cake.

Once Geta was made aware that your family was taken out, he found it to be the perfect time to tell you. He wasn’t sure how you were going to take the news, but something told him it wasn’t going to be an outburst of rage towards him. He found you curled up in your shared bed reading poetry, which had him smiling fondly at you as he moved to take a seat beside you, his hand reaching to take hold of yours. “My dearest girl, may we talk? I’ve got something I must tell you. It’s quite urgent.”

You looked up at him with a warm smile of your own, giving a gentle squeeze of his hand before bringing it to your lips to press a loving kiss to his knuckles. “Of course, my love. What is it?” Whatever it was, you were already mentally preparing yourself for the worst news imaginable, but either way you trusted him more than anything.

“This...may be hard for you to hear, my love, but your family was murdered last night. Every single one of them. I’m so sorry.” The look in his eyes as he stared into your own when he said this told you he had something to do with it and that he was in fact not sorry at all, you knew Geta well enough by now to know when his eyes gave him away. There were several seconds of silence between the two of you while you processed the news before he spoke up again. “Oh, I should add that it was I who put the hit on them.”

I knew it. Before you could say anything in response, he continued.

“But I need you to understand that I had to do it. It was either my life or theirs. One of my trusted men in the Roman army overheard your brothers talking about your family’s plan to have me killed so they could get you back from me. What else was I supposed to do? Lose you and my life? I could not let that happen. You are mine, you belong to me and I was not about to let anyone take you away from me.”

You melted beneath the touch of his hands when they reached out to cup your face, meeting his gaze with softened orbs and a small smile as you blinked a few times. If he was worried that you’d be mad at him, he was so far off. If only he knew that you’d been praying to the gods for something to happen to your family so you could be together without them trying to get in the middle of your relationship. “My love,” you murmured. “If you thought this news was going to upset me, then you were very wrong. I figured my family would try getting between us since they did not like you nor trust you, but I do because I know you better than them and everyone else in Rome who feels the way they did. I love you, Geta. You are worth it, you are worth losing my family for.”

“Gods, I love you.” He sighed before bringing you in for a deep kiss fueled by the pure love he had for you, one hand continuing to cup your cheek while the other wrapped around your waist to pull you closer to him. He hummed in content when you moved to straddle his lap, your thighs resting on each side of him and your arms wrapping around his neck while you pressed yourself flush against him. He felt as his cock began to stir beneath his tunic, which had him letting out a low groan into the kiss.

You felt it too, which made you smirk before you started rocking yourself against his cock to make it grow harder. “Mmmm... feels like someone’s excited.” You murmured, giving a light nip to his bottom lip before leaning back to start pushing his robe off of his shoulders, smiling when he did the same with your sleep robe after untying it.

“That’s just what you do to me, love. Can’t help it.” Geta mumbled, dipping his head down to start swirling his tongue around your nipple, earning a long sigh of content from your lips. “You know I’m insatiable for you, just as you are for me.” He took your nipple between his teeth then, giving a light nip and tug before wrapping his lips around it and sucking hard, humming as it had you arching your back to push your chest closer to him.

“Fuck. I need you. Please.” You whimpered, shifting backwards on his lap a bit so you could start pushing up the fabric of his tunic to free his cock, your hand wrapping around it and giving firm strokes up and down. You squealed when he stood up to toss you onto your back on the bed, giving your lip a hard bite as you watched him start removing the remainder of his garments.

As soon as he was naked, he crawled onto the bed and grabbed your legs to place them over his shoulders so he could force his cock deep inside you, pulling a loud scream of pleasure from your throat as the head of his cock hit you just right. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he started pounding into you, but that earned you a slap across the face before he was harshly gripping your jaw to get you to look up at him. “Eyes on me while I fuck you.” He growled out, only bringing his hand back to your thigh once your eyes were focused on him. “Atta girl.”

All you could do was moan in response, your jaw slack as you did your best to keep your gaze fixed on him, not wanting to disappoint him by disobeying his demand. Your hands found purchase on the bed where they gripped onto the bedding beneath you, your grip only growing tighter when Geta leaned forward to bend your knees until your thighs were pressed against your chest, giving him a better angle to fuck even deeper into you. “Oh! Right there! Fuck, my love, right there!”

“Yeah?” He grinned, leaning in to kiss you hard just as he started thrusting with even more force against the spot that had you unraveling the most, groaning into your mouth when your cunt started to repeatedly squeeze around his cock. “Feels so damn good when you squeeze my cock like that, darling. Keep that up.” He murmured into the kiss, his hands now holding your face while he continued his brutal yet delicious pace in thrusts. Being buried inside you grew to be Geta’s favorite place to be, especially when it had your cunt hugging his cock in the most delicious ways.

“L-love, choke me, please.” You begged with a moan as you gazed into his lust blown orbs, giving an even tighter squeeze around his length when his hand wrapped around your throat and gave a nice hard squeeze. His thrusts only faltered for a moment before he was resuming his bruising pace, his lips back on yours while he worked you both towards your releases, keeping a tight grip around your throat just like you wanted. “Yes, yes, yes, yes yes!” You chanted into the kiss, knowing it wouldn’t be long until you were creaming on his cock.

“Are you going to cum for me, darling? Make a nice big mess of my cock?” He leaned back then to watch his cock fuck in and out of you, his hand wrapped around your throat squeezing tighter so he could see the way your cunt clamped around his cock in response. Your rapid nodding of your head to answer his questions had him smirking, bringing his free hand down to press his thumb to your clit and start rubbing it in mind numbing circles. “Then cum for me.”

“Geeetaaaaaaa!” You squealed, your head thrown back and back arching off the bed as your orgasm took control of your body. You came harder than you ever have for him before, which had him letting out the most feral growl of approval when he felt just how creamy your cum made his cock. His release was only moments after yours, between the feeling of his cock so creamy and the way your walls continued clamping around him, he was done for.

His thrusts ceased once he was buried as deep into you as possible, his cock twitching as load after load of his cum spilled into you, wanting to make sure your insides were as creamy as his cock was. Your name left his lips as he came inside you, his own head tossed back as he relished in his own pleasure and the feeling of your cunt milking him of every drop he had to give. “That’s it, take every last drop of my cum.”

You leaned up to kiss him once more, your hands now grabbing his face and pulling him against you while you continued squeezing around his cock until he had nothing left to give. The two of you panted into each other’s mouths once your highs finally passed, your sweaty bodies pressed together still before he was peeling himself away from you and slowly pulling out of you to watch your mixed release drip out of your pretty little cunt. “Mmmmm...”

“Now this is a sight I will never tire of.” He mused with a long sigh of content, giving his lips a moistening lick before swiping some of your cum up with two fingers and finger fucking it back into you, grinning at the overstimulated whimper you let out in response. It was then that he finally moved your legs off of his shoulders, carefully placing them back onto the bed before moving to lay down beside you and pull you into his arms, his lips finding your temple while his hands gave soothing rubs up and down your back. “Are you okay?”

“Mmm... Perfect, actually. You never cease to amaze me, you know.” You smiled, nuzzling your face against the crook of his neck as you snuggled as close to him that you could. “Thank you. Not only for the mind blowing sex, but for loving me enough to not be afraid of having anyone who tries getting between us killed because trust me when I say, I would do the same for you.”

“Oh yeah?” Geta beamed, nudging his nose against the side of your head before pressing a kiss there. He was glad to hear you were on the same level as him, you truly were the only thing that mattered more to him than power, it’s why he was so afraid to lose you.

“Yeah. You truly are worth it, my love.”

“As are you. I love you, my sweet darling girl.”

“I love you.”

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are encouraged and greatly appreciated! 🥺🖤

Fic tags: @userchai @3rd-conchord @multi-culti-girl @dreamyjosephquinn @peakygirl1919

#emperor geta x reader #emperor geta x you #emperor geta x f!reader #emperor geta fanfic #emperor geta fanfiction #emperor geta smut #emperor geta #gladiator II #gladiator 2

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thanyatargaryen · 11 days ago

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Mutual Agreement

ok here i come again... its late at night so im just writing this so i wont forget and i might edit later.

Marcus x f!reader (Lucius older Sister)

Rater M (just in case)

Warning (age-gap, mentions of death...)

f reader 26

marcus 45-50

Years had passed since you mother died, 10 to be exact. Lucilla was the sweetest and protective person you knew until Geta and Caracalla came to power and sent her to get killed just to make a statement to the Roman people. By then she had put Lucius in a safe place since he was the last male heir to the Roman Republic. At the moment your mother died you were 15 and by decree of the emperors you were to be wed to general Marcus Acacius to have you both under their control.

At age 20 you knew you were in love with Marcus, it hadn't been like you thought it was going to happen since he had only been polite and had limited your interactions to simple common courtesies when he was in the state. You were the Domina of the house and you were aware that things could change every so often when he was in campaigns. The last one made it so hard on you that at the moment Marcus' second in command sent a letter detailing his current state after being badly injured. It took months for him to recover, the moment you saw him pale and drained from his natural olive color made you almost faint if it hadn't been for a servant near you how held you as the General was brought into his room.

You made sure he was safe and comfortable by tending him yourself. you cleaned and changed his bandages, prepared his food and remedies as stated by the medics. you were completely drained by the 3 month mark when Marcus tarted getting better and being able to do more by himself. Servants and centinels alike inside and outside the villa spoke and tried to reason with you about the toll the situation was taking care on you. Listening was one thing but doing as their said was another. you knew they were worried but it was your duty as wife and domina of the villa but because that situation made you think about how frail life was and how much you can lose. not material things but Marcus even though he never said anything about your relationship and tried to keep it as platonic as he could to keep you safe from the evil twins who ruled Rome.

It had been 6 years later since you made yourself aware of how much you loved Marcus and how many women around you were wedded and had families. Women even younger than you had at least 2 children and by now people started talking. You didn't notice but you had started to play with your tunic near the section of your belly. Thinking about having children with Marcus made you smile and even imagine little children running around the villa but you knew that was never going to happen since he kept you at arms length.

Marcus was well aware of your change of attitude and how you saw pregnant women or women with children walking around the streets or when they ended up at the villa -being the wife or daughter of a senator who was married and pregnant-. These women always made the same questions "when are you having children?" or "are you planning on having children? it has been too long since oyu married the General". it was a nightmare even more when you had political affairs in the villa or you had to attend.

Today was one of those days when women had attended to your villa, at least 6 senators and their families were present and 2 of those women were heavily pregnant. The situation made it even worse since you were bombarded by questions about the topic and all the hormones were not helping. You were trying to make the most out off the situation and hold yourself and your emotions from show and tell these women how much you wanted to be a mother but your husband had never touched you.

The reunion ended and everyone left leaving you to manage the staff and then go to your room, as you were getting out off your clothes and letting them fall, you were able to see your slim figure on your mirror and started to imagine what would it be to be a mother if it was at leas only one time. as you caressed your empty belly you were mentally praying to the gods for help to at least know what physical comfort felt like with a man. The moment you heard a goblet fall, the candles near the bed blew and you could hear a soft voice saying "I have seen your heart dear daughter of Juno, your petition will be delivered." Right after that you could hear loud noises outside near the main garden and the sound of metal clashing with each other.

Part 2 most likely tomorrow or Monday

#gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal #general marcus acacius #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus acacias x reader #marcus acacius #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfic #marcus acacius fic #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius imagine #marcus acacius x female reader #lucilla #general acacius #gladiator ll #ancient rome

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joelslegalwhre · 4 days ago

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Em's Fic Recs for November🌟

(aka the Marcus Acacius month)

November has been a GOOD fic month for me uff! I like to keep track of the words I’ve read to then compare what books have as many words as I read in fics lmao. (521.661k for November lol)

Anyway! These fics made the month of November a real good one for me and I hope you can find some fics you love through this list! I can’t stress this enough; the sheer amount of talent that goes into these is mind blowing and this is a thank you to every writer for gifting us their amazing works!💋

Please always support your writers with comments and reblogs! All these incredible works are free so in return we can show and spread the word of the love we have for them!

My monthly fic rec lists for more amazing works ⭐️ multiple parts

Marcus Acacius

faber est suae quisque fortunae -- @myownwholewildworld ⇢ [marcus acacius x emperor's daughter!reader] ⇢ 579 ⇢ emperor's daughter!reader?? SAY LESS Hands in the hair of somebody named Marcus (i) -- @stylesispunk ⭐️ ⇢ [Marcus Acacius x f!reader] ⇢ 5k> ⇢ Geta and Caracalla being her family? Marcus being her lover? 10/10 (and there's another part eekkk)

the general masterlist -- @juletheghoul ⭐️ ⇢ [Marcus Acacius x f!reader] ⇢ I. - XI. ca 33.8k ⇢ master / slave dynamic but make it "he's protective and smitten" UGHHH mhmmm

Prima Nocta -- @fuckyeahdindjarin ⇢ [Marcus Acacius x Virgin!F!Reader] ⇢ 6k ⇢ Me too please, when is it my turn

Dulcissima -- @softpascalito ⭐️ ⇢ [Marcus Acacius x F!Vestal!Reader] ⇢ 12k+ ⇢ I'm so excited to read the rest of the series oml

Joel Miller

Controversially young girlfriend -- @sanarsi ⇢ [post-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader] ⇢ 4.6k ⇢ big fat age gap? Count. me. in.

morning run -- @laligraves ⇢ [joel miller x fem!reader] ⇢ 2.8k ⇢ Miss rabbit has fainted. Miss rabbit has fainted again

Give up -- @talaok ⇢ [joel miller x fem!reader] ⇢ 3.636 (I counted the words, I hope that's okay <3)

Giving up (pt 2)-- @talaok ⇢ [joel miller x fem!reader] ⇢ 3.501 ⇢ insecure old man joel trying to impress reader? screaming crying

fall into temptation masterlist -- @pedrospatch ⭐️ ⇢ [Jackson! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter Reader] ⇢ 30.4k ⇢ SO. Fucking. GOOD. I need to reread this soon bc fuck nothing will compare aghhh

well, all right I’m bad, but then you’re no price either… -- @sceletaflores ⇢ [joel miller x fem!reader] ⇢ 8.6k ⇢ stubborn Joel AND reader? hell yeah

Idle Threats masterlist -- @pearlessance ⭐️ ⇢ [Joel Miller/Reader] ⇢ 70.283k ⇢ holy f this series was my roman empire in November (it still is, let's be honest) and this gif set is so Idle Threats coded!

graphics by @saradika-graphics <3

#em's monthly fic recs #em's fic rec list #fic recs!#fic rec #pedro pascal #joel miller #marcus acacius #joel miller x reader #marcus acacius x reader #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #the last of us

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pedgito · 5 months ago

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𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒 | General Acacius x reader x Emperor Geta

summary | General Marcus Acacius has one thing Emperor Geta doesn't, you. [part 2]

author's note | @pr0ximamidnight is FULLY responsible for this. she had an idea, i flip-flopped and threw out another one, and here we are. paige thank you for being a constant source of inspiration in my life and pea brain, ily. and thank you for beta'ing.

content warning | 18+ smut, DDDNE, dubcon - power imbalance and forced cuckolding | additional warnings: reader is a servant (but also participates in s*x work), established situationship with the general, marcus is a soft but guilt-riddled man, geta is literally just a gremlin asshole with an ego and you know what? i'm okay with that, heavy degradation, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, fingering, f voyeurism/exhibitionism. extra note: please heed the tags and proceed with caution. do not read if this icks you out, that simple. also we can just say this is au to avoid the bs. i just wanted to write a fic with both of my blorbos <3

word count —2.7k

There was something special about being bedded by a General, one so illustrious and generous as Acacius, but an Emperor, that was a wholly different experience.

He knew you belonged to General Acacius, in a sense. One of his loyal servants who had sailed across the sea with him to the palace of the Emperor brothers who ruled here—Caracalla, a slimy and disgusting man, alongside his brother Geta, who wasn’t much better. He was smarter, though—albeit not by much, but his choices were calculated, vengeful, planned.

He had his eyes set on you from the moment you entered his home, alongside General Acacius in your unsuspecting and flimsy garb, a white and pristine material to match that of your General, detailed with gold specks and a tie at your waist that kept you modest.

“Serve them, appease them,” General Acacius had told you, “they are tempered men, do not upset them.” He’d meant it as a warning; watch yourself.

Acacius was a caring leader, for the most part. You stayed out of politics and war, dutiful to him and his needs wherever and whenever he needed you—and if that meant buried in his sheets when you were away with him on one of his many triumphs around Rome, that was his business and your secret to keep. The gold necklace that hung around your neck was a gift from him, a thank you for all of your hard work, but a silent reminder that you were his. None of the other men touched you, like a brand on your body that had them running in the other direction.

But, not Emperor Geta.

He tips your chin up with his finger, your body shaking nervously under his touch as he uses his other hand to spread your legs apart at your knees, stripped out of his cloak and down to his tunic, but even that was hanging on by a thread.

He’d commanded you to strip down in front of him, your clothes pooled somewhere on the floor near his bed.

You’ve been in plenty of situations like this before, sex with men you didn’t care for. If it meant sustenance and another day of breathing, you didn’t care. You did what you had to. But this, it felt off. There was a constant snarl to his face, his gold crown displaced beside your head as his finger trace and followed until he was gripping the underside of your chin in his palm and pushing up, fingering the necklace with a smug, salacious grin.

“He’s got you collared,” Geta breathes, “like a dog, doesn’t he?”

Don’t speak, he’ll hear the quiver in your voice.

“Answer me,” His voice booms, “does he fuck you in secret?”

You blink, watching his lips pull back in a thin line and his gaze—it was frightening.

You nod despite yourself, not prepared to see what would happen if you had lied.

The thing with Geta was he also disguised his intentions behind momentary kindness.

A kind smile as you offered him a full goblet of wine or refilled his plate, as you trailed alongside him holding another gaudy offering to appease the other ego-driven men who pursued this place—General Acacius knew he was losing you to him and there wasn’t a thing he could say or do without risking your life in the process.

His face softens for a brief moment, feeling the hard swallow from your throat as it strains, eyes droning into the bedpost above your head as his fingers flex, debating on whether he should rip the jewelry from your neck or leave it be.

Eventually, he decides for the latter.

“Show me,” Geta commands, “how you please him.”

He loosens his grip on your chin and allows his hand to fall, watching as you rise up slightly on your elbows, breasts shaking with the movement and you can catch the way his jaw clenches, salivating at the sight. You pull at the tie on his skirt, finding that he was already bare underneath, his hard and aching cock springing from underneath as you pushed it away.

His confidence wasn’t a cover, you could confirm. He was large, not nearly as much as General Acacius but given the amount of situations you’ve caught yourself in, staring up or down at men who just needed a quick taste of you and the pleasure you had to offer, he was quite enough.

The tip, red and dripping already, he palms himself. A chuckle escapes his chest as he flings the rest of the fabric to the floor, his hand cupping around his balls and rolling them between his fingers before he’s gripping his shaft and then your own hand, allowing a few strokes before he intructs you to do as he’s asked.

You squeeze, apply an ample amount of pressure as you pull at his shaft, watching as he slowly canted his own hips into your palm, his hand gripping into your scalp to keep you upright, hair tangled around his fingers as he breathes out roughly through his nose.

“Always know a whore when I see one,” He denotes and you have to fight the urge to bark back, “do you suck cock like one too?”

If anything, it was a silent order.

You push up onto your palm, feeling the strength of his grip as he yanks your head back, forcing your eyes to lock with his as he uses the other hand to guide his cock head to your lips, sneering as he spreads the glistening precome over your lips before pressing further. You open your mouth to him, allowing the heavy weight of his cock to split your lips apart, giving you very little time to adjust before he’s eagerly thrusting into your mouth, using your hand to cover the rest of his cock you couldn’t fit, feeling more shameful than you should about how you weren’t as bothered by him as you should be.

He wasn’t some strange man pandering you with a pile of coins on the street or around the dark corner of the palace—he was power. An emperor with little remorse.

You can hear him chuckling darkly above, his eyes wild as you suck at his cock, spit pooling in your mouth and dripping down your chin.

“Messy bitch,” He mutters, picking up the pace considerably as he began to fuck into your mouth, the tip of his cock pressing against the back of your throat forcing a garbled gag around him, “—are you of the thankful sort or are you ungrateful?”

He pulls you back suddenly, leaving you to gasp out in desperation at the sudden relief, looking up at him with watery eyes, swallowing against your sensitive gag reflex.

“Thank—thankful, sir.” You confirm with a weak nod.

“No sir,” He counters, “Emperor. Let me hear you speak it.”

“Thankful,” You affirm, “I’m thankful, Emperor.”

“Good,” His thumb traces your bottom lip, mixing with the spit and slick of him that was covering your mouth, “so you’ll take my cum and say thank you, won’t you?”

You nod obediently, feeling him loosen the grip on your hair slightly as he fisted himself, using the copious amount of spit as lubricant. You watch as his abdomen flexes under the guise of his impending orgasm, how jerky his movements become as his teeth dig into his bottom lip, a muffled curse slipping beyond his lips before he’s pressing his cock to your lips without warning and expecting, knowing that his obedient little whore would be willing and waiting. His cum pools in your tongue, salty and warm as he jerks himself a few final times before he pulls away, watching carefully as you swallow down the taste of him. It was then that he finally allowed you a break, releasing his grip on your scalp as you fell back.

“What a harlot you are,” Geta comments, but seemingly pleased as he leans back on his calves and pulls you upright, awaiting until you’re sitting less rigidly before he drags a hand across your breast, his thumb rubbing over your nipple and watching as it pebbled underneath his touch, “might I suggest an audience?”

You have no time to respond before he’s fetching for one of his other many servants, a name you’ve never heard before being thrown across the room and you scramble for the covers, desperate for some protection to your state of undress. Geta allows it, but he doesn’t hide the smirk or laugh that escapes him, his eyes creasing in amusement.

The servant peaks around the door dutifully, wide eyes dropping on you before quickly averting to the Emperor.

“Fetch the General for me, would you?” He asks, “I’ve been meaning to show him a proper good time.”

The servant nods meekly before departing and when Geta looks at you—he sees it.

“What?” He remarks like a child, “Don’t fear for your modesty now—“

The footsteps grow closer, heavy and slow as they thump, thump, thump against the floor, matching the quick beat of your heart.

“Emperor Geta—“ His voice brings you to tears, looking away in fear that he would judge, seethe, leave you to be eaten alive by the Emperor on your own and finally rid himself of you.

“General,” He boasts, still stark naked but using your legs as a makeshift cover over his cock, despite how bare you were, “won’t you join us?”

When you do look at him, he’s stoic. Fearful just as much as you. In fact, you’ve never seen him this worried. Not even in the depths of war.

“Are you asking, Emperor?” He counters, “Or ordering?”

Geta answers with a wave of his hand toward your naked body and Acacius pushes down the sigh that wants to escape through his nose, closing the door shut behind him.

“She’s quite the woman, you must know,” He comments and General Acacius' nose flares at the words, lifting himself slowly onto the bed to sit near you, still a distance away. If you reached out, you could touch him, “beautiful, obedient—the perfect whore, really.”

“Emperor, forgive me,” Acacius argues, “but I am not sure what you want from me in this situation.”

“She’s yours, is she not?” He asks, flinging the necklace up lazily before it hits your chest again and Acacius eyes immediately draw to the jewelry. “This reeks of you.”

“It was a gift, for her diligent and loyal work.”

Because as much as you had served General Acacius in many ways, you were still tending to everything else without complaint and with a good attitude. In another life, if things could be different, you might have him as your own. But, that wasn’t possible.

“Do you fuck her?”

Geta knows the answer—all of you do.

“That is none—“

“As she is under my rule—it is my business,” He snaps, “Do you fuck her, General? Is she a good fuck?”

Lord above, put me out of this misery, you think.

Acacius offers nothing but silence.

Geta nods with finality, “Fair—you can watch and tell me if her moans sound the same while my cock is inside of her.”

And Geta catches the way your hand in his sheets inch closer toward Acacius out of instinct, wanting his touch just as bad.

He furrows his brow and nods toward the General.

“Prepare her for me,” He orders, “touch her.”

Your eyes flick up toward him, a silent and pleading echo of Marcus behind your eyes. Serve him, appease him.

He closes his eyes and breathes a deep sign, his fingers trailing down your stomach until they can hover over your cunt, his middle and ring finger placed and at the ready. You nod, mouth instantly falling open at his touch.

The Emperor smirks, watching Acacius dexterous fingers work over your clit and your chest rise and fall in quick succession, his hand fisting his own cock lazily.

“I can see why you’ve taken such a liking to her,” Geta notes, speaking as if you weren’t in the room, as if he wasn’t fisting his cock at the entrance of you cunt, “I owe you, for bringing her to me—and leaving her with me.”

You can see the way Acacius' face twitches in anger, but his eyes never leave yours when they open again, using him as a solace in this complicated time. You grab for his wrist when you feel yourself growing near, breathing out a shaky moan.

“There, stop.” Geta orders and Acacius' hand drags away slowly, fingers drifting along the edge of your jaw with a fondness that was reserved for you alone.

You smile sadly.

I’m sorry, you convey silently.

In this world, Acacius knew you had no choice in the matter. It was survival and had you been born into a wealthier family, a better life, maybe you would be at the other end of this situation.

“Look at me,” He commands you, pulling your face away from Acacius grip and forcing your eyes on him as he presses inside of you slow, hand gripped at the base of his cock as he split you open, his face pinched as you squeezed him, cunt sucking him in greedily.

You bite at your cheek, trying to stifle the involuntary moans from the stretch of Emperor Geta’s cock. You could deny and say that it didn’t feel good, but that would be a lie. Your selfish body was betraying you and you didn’t want to give the Emperor the satisfaction, not yet.

Acacius shakes his head minutely, a subtle movement you barely catch. Don’t defy him.

“Tell her,” Geta says through heavy breaths, his hips snapping into you steadily, your thighs being pressed tight to your body with his grip on the back of them, “keeping silent will do her no good.”

“Dove,” He comforts you, “let go.”

“You’ve named her!” Geta exclaims in amusement and genuine disbelief, “You’ve named your whore? Pathetic.”

“She was never a whore,” Acacius snaps through gritted teeth, “she is loyal—good, and she does not deserve this. She would give you anything you asked if you did it with kindness.”

“I’m right here!” You shout, fed up with the unjust tension, your voice riddled with the building pleasure in your groin, the feeling of Geta’s thumb ghosting over your clit.

“Grab her face and look at her,” Geta orders roughly, his chest flushed from exertion, “and be sorrowful that it isn’t you making her fall apart—seeing as this is the last time you will ever be allowed to see her.”

You sob out, both from the crest of your orgasm and the hate behind his words, eyes locked on your General for the brief interim that you fall apart, pulsing tightly around the Emperor’s cock until he comes with grunt, slipping out of you just in enough time that has seed doesn’t spill into you. The last thing he needed was a bastard son.

“You will learn to respect me,” He snarls, grabbing for his clothes haphazardly and retrying them around his waist.

You shake with a silent cry, hand still latched around the General’s wrist, too afraid to let him go.

“You have five minutes,” Geta bites, “say your goodbyes and leave my sight, both of you.”

The moment his footsteps finally descend and you feel the momentary relief, he deflates.

“Marcus, I never meant—“

He shushes you quickly, pushing the stray hair from your face as you lean up, reaching for him and he tucks you into his chest.

“You are safer here,” He promises, “I cannot protect you like I once could, and you’re smart—I know you are. Geta is a temperamental but immature man. Get in his head, manipulate him. Live.”

“Where are you going?” You ask with a somber tone.

“Away,” He replies simply, not willing to elaborate.

It tugs at your heart deeply, feeling the material of a blanket being slide up over your naked body.

“Fight,” It’s one of the last words he says to you, pressing a kiss against your forehead before he reaches your lips, and it lingers for a while, but not nearly as long as you wish, “if not for me, but for you.”

And you would, even if it killed you.

PART TWO

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stylesispunk · 17 days ago

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"Hands in the hair of someone named marcus" | part ii

Marcus Acacius x f!reader

previous part

Summary: the cursed blood of Geta and Caracalla runs through your veins sealing your fate. However, General Acacius is willing to fight for you and you become his most important reason to live.

w.c: 6k.

Warnings: angst, smut (if you could call it that), power imbalance, violence, fluff.

a/n: Thank you so much for the love you gave to the first part of this one (I could cry). I literally loved General Acacius so much and he deserves better and all the flowers. With this part I don't know if a third one is necessary, so I hope you like it and enjoy it! Remember, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading. 💌

| dividers by @/saradika-graphics |

by the way, I'm working on some requests, I haven't forgotten about you. I'm just really busy. 🤞✨

“You make it sound so simple,” you murmured, your voice soft but laced with deep worry

Marcus smiled faintly, the corner of his lips lifting in a way that made your heart burst. “Love doesn’t erase chaos, my lady,” he said, his tone carrying the weight of years spent in timeless battles. “But it gives you something to dream of”

The peace you had found in Marcus words and presence, was fleeting as a storm passing by during a summer day. The soothing protections you felt under his stare was shattered the moment Geta and Caracalla noticed your absence.

Despite them not being as much loved as you by the people. Servants’ loyalty fell on them and it was a matter of time for them to find the truth intentions behind the demeanor of the beloved General Acacius.

You barely had time to breathe before the heavy doors to the villa burst open, and there they were, Geta and Caracalla, flanked by their guards. Their faces were twisted with fury, their regal demeanor replaced by a feral madness that made your blood run cold.

There you were back the palace, locking gazes with the man your brothers had promised you to. And you barely had time to breathe before there was blood was dripping from the fallen gladiator who had been won the battle in the arena.

Yours felt in your ears, the rush, the bombing and the guilt.

Your hand was a fake prize for a foolish man dreaming of his freedom. Dreaming of belonging to the most powerful family of the empire.

You were speechless, so it was Acacius who stood by your side as a personal armored guard, swearing to protect you from the cruel madness your brothers had descended into.

"Do you think I do not love you, sister?" Geta asked, with a tone that sent shivers down your spine. "I wouldn't allow a man like that to marry you" he said referring to the now lifeless gladiator laying on the floor.

Geta walked closer to you, in a swift moment he raised his hand to caress your face, but before he could even reach your skin. Marcus stepped in front of you, defying the emperor

Geta froze, his hand lingering midair as Marcus placed himself between the two of you. The tension in the air was suffocating, the once-roaring crowd now silenced by the audacity of Marcus’s actions.

"Step aside, General," Geta hissed, his voice dripping with menace, though his expression betrayed a flicker of disbelief.

Marcus met his gaze with unflinching resolve. "With all due respect, Emperor, I will not."

Geta’s eyes narrowed, his nostrils flaring as he took a step closer, his face inches from Marcus’s. "You dare defy me?”

Marcus did not waver. "I swore an oath to serve Rome, and that includes its people. Your sister above all. She is not yours to intimidate, Emperor."

The crowd murmured in hushed tones, the audacity of the general spreading like wildfire among them. Caracalla rose from his seat, his expression one of cold calculation as he descended the steps toward the scene.

"Kill him," Caracalla shouted, his eyes burned with anger.

Geta ignored him, his focus locked solely on Marcus. "You think your rank protects you, General Acacius?”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, but he spoke with measured restraint. "I think my loyalty to Rome and its empire is unwavering. But I will not stand by and allow cruelty you bring to your sister.”

The words struck a nerve. Geta’s lips curled into a bitter smile as he finally dropped his hand, though his eyes never left Marcus. "Bold words, General," he said, stepping back. "Perhaps too bold for a man whose future depends on my goodwill."

He turned to the crowd, spreading his arms as if to dismiss the tension. "Let it be known," he declared, his voice echoing across the arena, "that my sister is under my protection. Any man who wishes to court her must prove his worth, not just to her, but to Rome."

His gaze flickered back to Marcus; his smile venomous. "Are you willing to stake your life on this, General? To face the arena in her name?"

Marcus did not hesitate. "I am."

The arena erupted in chaos, the crowd roaring with approval at the prospect of a new fight. Geta’s smile widened as he leaned closer to Marcus, his voice low enough for only the two of you to hear.

"Then prepare yourself, Acacius," he whispered. "Because I will make sure this fight is the hardest battle of your life."

He turned and strode away, Caracalla following closely behind. Marcus remained still, his shoulders rigid as the crowd cheered for the fight to come.

You reached out, your hand brushing his arm. "Marcus," you whispered, your voice trembling.

He turned to you, his expression softening for the briefest moment. "Do not fear, my lady," he said, his voice steady. "I will win. For you."

Your heart ached at the weight of his words, but before you could respond, he stepped away, his focus already on the battle ahead.

The days passed in agonizing silence, and ahead to the battle at the coliseum, you were confined to your quarters, guarded closely by your brother’s guards. Two of the were stood just outside your door as a warning, even beyond all that, as a reminder of the power Geta and Caracalla held over you.

You hadn’t had news of Marcus since the day you parted ways after he told your brothers he was going to fight for you at the Arena. The fear and worry consumed you, and even your own servants met with a soft indifference and dismissal. It was as if the world had conspired to separate you from the one person who had fought to protect you. You spent your days pacing the confines of your chamber, that now felt suffocating.

You imagined Marcus alone, preparing for the fight under the oppressive gaze of your brothers. Was he thinking of you? Did he share the same fear that gripped your heart? Or was he steadfast in his resolve, his mind fixed solely on the battle to come?

Would he have regretted it?

Not bearing the questions anymore, you got up from your bed determined to break your brothers’ orders and persuade the only desire fueling flames in your heart.

The moon hung low in the sky, its light spilling into your chambers as you slipped through the doorway, your heart pounding in your chest. The guards outside had been lured away with a clever diversion, and you moved quickly, draped in a simple cloak that hid your identity.

You held your breath, waiting, but the guards remained oblivious.

Wrapping a cloak tightly around your shoulders, you slipped into the corridor, moving swiftly but silently. The villa seemed to be a labyrinth of shadowy hallways.

The night air bit at your skin as you reached the courtyard. The sound of the guards’ boots echoing in the distance urged you forward, and with grace, you mounted the horse, urging it into a gallop toward Marcus’s quarters at the edge of the city.

The journey was risky. The streets of Rome were alive even at this hour, the echoes of revelry and the whispers of the approaching battle filling the air. You kept your hood low, your heart racing with every shadow that moved.

Finally, you arrived at his villa. It was modest compared to the luxuriousness of the imperial palace, but it was guarded nonetheless. Two soldiers stood at the entrance, their posture rigid. You dismounted, your steps purposeful as you approached them.

“I need to see him,” you said, your voice firm despite the tremor of fear beneath it.

The guards exchanged a glance, their hesitation palpable once they noticed who you were. “The general has ordered no visitors, my lady.” one of them said.

“I am not a visitor,” you countered, your voice rising slightly. “Will you stand in my way?”

They hesitated, but something in your tone made them step aside.

“I’ll take you with him” one of them offered.

You nodded. The guard gestured for you to follow, leading you through the dimly lit villa. You kept your hood low, your heart pounding in your chest. Every creak of the floorboards and every distant sound made your pulse quicken, but you refused to let fear deter you.

“This way, my lady,” the guard whispered, stopping at the end of a long hallway. “His quarters are just beyond this door.”

You nodded, slipping a small pouch of coins into his hand. “Thank you,” you said softly.

He bowed his head. “I wish you both the best.”

As the guard retreated, you turned to the door. Your hand trembled as it hovered over the handle, the weight of the past days pressing heavily on your shoulders. You took a steadying breath and pushed the door open.

The room was warm, lit only by the glow of a hearth. Marcus sat at a sturdy wooden table, poring over a map with a furrowed brow. His armor was laid in the table beside him, the metal gleaming in the firelight. The sight of him dressed in a white tunic, so strong, made your chest tighten with longing.

The sound of the door closing behind you drew his attention. His head snapped up, and for a moment, his expression was unreadable. Then his features softened, his brow relaxing as recognition dawned.

“My lady,” he said, rising to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t stay away,” you said, your voice thick with emotion as you stepped closer. “I had to see you.”

His gaze flickered to the door behind you, his shoulders tensing. “You shouldn’t have come. If your brothers-”

“I don’t care what they think,” you interrupted, your voice trembling with resolve. “I needed to see you. To know you’re well.”

His expression softened, and he reached out, his hands settling on your shoulders. “You took an enormous risk coming here. If they find out-”

“I don’t care,” you interrupted, your hands gripping the front of his tunic. “I couldn’t bear another moment without you. Tomorrow feels like a lifetime away from seeing you again.”

Marcus’s gaze darkened with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, and his hands slid down your arms, pulling you closer. “You’ve always been braver than I deserve,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “But you shouldn’t have to be.”

He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and desperate, as though he needed to memorize the feel of you. The weight of the world melted away in that moment, leaving only the two of you and the quiet hum of the night.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. You were the closest thing he had to touch the moon that shine over you with his own hands, his heart felt at ease at the thought of you and now that he was looking directly at you, he felt alive and braver than ever.

“Tomorrow, I’ll fight for you and for us,” he said, his voice resolute. “And I’ll win. I swear it.”

His words were a solemn vow, carrying the weight of his love and his unyielding strength of power. The warmth of his breath mingled with yours, and for a moment, the universe seemed to hold its breath, the stars outside aligning for the two of you.

“Marcus,” you whispered, “You’re everything to me. I don’t care about their rules or their power. All I care about is you.”

His lips curved into a faint smile; a softness rarely seen breaking through the stoicism that often cloaked him. “Then you’ve already given me the strength I need,” he replied, his hands sliding from your arms to cradle your face. His thumbs brushed your cheeks, as if memorizing the feel of your skin beneath his calloused touch could save him from his duties and just sacred himself to serve and adore you.

“I’ll return to you,” he said, the conviction in his tone leaving no room for doubt. “No force in this world could keep me away.”

The sheer intensity of his gaze sent shivers through you, and you found yourself leaning into him, finding solace in his unwavering presence. “I’ll be waiting,” you promised, capturing his lips in a desperate attempt to feel like he wouldn't die for you in the arena.

You didn't want to become the wife of a dead husband; you didn't want Marcus to die for you. You just wanted him and all the love he had to offer.

Marcus deepened the kiss, his hand pressing against the small of your back to hold you closer, as if he too feared the distance that tomorrow might bring. His other hand cradled your face with a gentleness that contrasted the ferocity of his actions. For a moment, time seemed to halt, the world outside fading into oblivion. It was just the two of you, locked in an embrace that spoke of love, desperation, and promises yet to be written.

“Acacius” you whispered, feeling the fire burning inside you.

Marcus’s name on your lips was a melody he never wanted to stop hearing. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours, his breath mingling with yours as though he couldn’t bear even a whisper of space between you. The fire you felt inside was reflected in his gaze, a raw, unyielding passion, tempered by the tenderness of a man who loved you more than life itself.

"Say it again," he murmured, his voice low, rough, as if your words were the only thing grounding him.

“Acacius,” you repeated, your voice trembling at the feeling of his hands roaming all over your body as a delicate map of Roma itself, the same Acacius had sworn to serve and protect.

His hands traced your skin with reverence, as if he were mapping the contours of not just your body, but your very soul. Each touch was delicate, as though he were imprinting his essence into every inch of you, claiming you in the most intimate way possible.

"Your name," he breathed, his lips brushing against your ear, "is the only thing I need to hear. The only thing that matters." His voice was like a caress, both tender and desperate.

You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath on your neck, of his touch, the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your palm. “And I, you," you whispered back, your hands exploring the firm planes of his chest, his heart beating in sync with yours.

His actions hit a chord inside you that you didn’t know existed. The weight of his promises and devotion, the depth of his feelings, was overwhelming. You leaned closer, wrapping your arms around him, needing to feel him against you, to feel that he was real.

"I need you, Marcus," you whispered, your lips grazing his jaw, trembling with the depth of your words. "I need you to come back to me. Please, don’t let anything happen to you."

He pulled you into him, his hands framing your face as he kissed you, slowly, deeply, pouring all of his promises into the kiss. "I swear it," he breathed against your lips, his hands sliding down your body, his touch fierce with resolve. "I will come back. No matter what. I swear it on the gods and on my heart."

With those words, he kissed you again, and in that kiss, you could taste the sweet desperation, the love, the unspoken promises. And as the world outside faded away, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again. He was yours, and you were his. And nothing, not even fate itself, could break that bond.

“Lay on the bed” he ordered, softly. Still caressing your jaw and neck with the touch of his lips on you.

Under the spell he seemed to have you under, you obeyed him, lying down carefully on his bed, not breaking the gaze between the two of you. He came towards you, with a look that seemed to burn you, but with love and adoration, to which you could give yourself without thinking of the consequences.

With his body over yours, he kept looking down at you as if you were the greatest treasure in this empire. His lips drew maps over you, on your cheeks, on your lips, on your neck. When his hands rested on your breasts, it felt like the air in your lungs didn't know where to go. The feeling was something you hadn't experienced, but you wanted to dive into it.

His fingers worked with your dress, leaving you completely bare under his stare. You turned your head to the side, embarrassed to be seen this way, but he with his fingers held your jaw, delicately.

“You’re the most beautiful woman, my lady” he whispered, kissing your lips, as his hands returned to your breasts, eliciting whimpers from your mouth.

His lips began to move down from your lips to your chest, planting kisses on where your heart was beating rapidly for him and the love you felt. Then, he delicately grabbed one of your nipples with his mouth, savoring the way your body reacted under his actions, your back arched for him, and his hands caressed your waist, trying to hold you in place.

Under him, under his actions, but not under his possession.

“Acacius” you moaned, softly. The way he was making you feel was something foreign to you, something you thought you would never feel.

His hand travelled up to your lips, his thumb tracing delicate patterns on your lips, as you kiss it with the same intention despite the fire burning inside you, your mind felt void and your body felt limb under Marcus orders.

With his hand on your lips, his detached from your breast, planting kisses down, leaving a hot patch down until he reached your stomach.

“God…” you whispered faintly.

His hands intertwined yours in attempt to hold you, as he kept kissing down your stomach, going even lower, until you could feel his breath where you needed him the most.

"I want to give you all I have," Marcus whispered, “But tonight I cannot.”

Before you could even respond, you felt his lips on your thighs, soft and delicate working up on you. Your breathing seemed to catch, until he reached the place where you needed him most.

Releasing a long sigh, your body seemed to gave up to him “Acaius...yes, just there.” you murmured faintly.

His lips seemed to know every part of you and nothing ever felt as good as it felt now. Your back arched as his mouth seemed to be taking you to the stars. In every kiss, in every touch, in every foreign sensation that was becoming familiar.

Acacius was starved, hungry for you. “You taste like heaven, my lady” he murmured.

Your hands let go of his, reaching up to his curls, bringing him even more impossibly close. You could feel his breath on you and how his tongue worked to please you.

Before you could even cry out, he detached his lips from your cunt, grabbing your mouth with his fiercely. His hands roamed over you, pulling you closer to him, as if he couldn’t get enough. Your legs instinctively crossed around his middle, anchoring him to you, and for a moment, the world outside seemed so distant, so unimportant. It was just the two of you, entwined in a way that made everything else fade away.

His lips left yours for a moment, trailing soft kisses down your neck as he whispered sweet things to you, his voice hushed and filled with the kind of devotion that left your heart racing.

“I’m sorry my lady, I shouldn’t have- “

“I’m yours,” you interrupted, locking your gaze with his.

His eyes softened as he gazed down at you, his hands now resting gently on your waist.

“And I’m yours” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm against the delicate curve of your neck. “Every part of me, every breath, belongs to you.”

“I want this” you reassured.

“And I do want this too, my lady. But after I win, after I marry you. I will take you with no fear inside me.” He replied. There was no need for more words; everything had already been said. The love, the longing, the passion was there.

With a final kiss, Marcus slowly pulled away, his forehead resting against yours once more. "I'll be back for you," he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. "I swear it."

And you, holding him in your arms, closed your eyes, trusting him, knowing that no matter what, you would always find your way back to each other.

You gazed into Marcus’s eyes, your heart still racing from the intensity of the moment, but his words pulled you back to reality. There was no escaping what tomorrow would bring.

"Rest?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "How can I, knowing what you're about to face?"

Marcus smiled, his expression softening with a warmth that made your heart swell. “Because, my lady, you need your strength for the days ahead. And because I promised you I would return.” He gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "Sleep, knowing that I am fighting for you. For us."

Your throat tightened as you nodded, unwilling to argue any longer. You needed to let him go, if only for a short while. You kissed him one last time, a lingering promise between you both, before pulling away reluctantly.

"I'll be waiting for you," you said, your voice steady despite the storm inside your chest. "I know you'll win.”

With a final, lingering look, Marcus kissed your lips for the last time. “Go back to the palace before they find out you are gone.”

You nodded, your heart heavy with the weight of his words. The reality of the situation hit you all at once—tomorrow would change everything. Marcus’s life hung in the balance, and there was nothing you could do but wait and trust in him.

“I’ll go back,” you whispered, pulling away from his embrace reluctantly. The cold air of the room seemed to hit you all at once, and the walls felt smaller, enclosing around you as you stepped away.

Reluctantly, you turned to leave. The door closed behind you with a quiet click, and the silence that followed felt like a weight pressing down on you. Every step away from him was a struggle, but you had to return to your brothers' watchful eyes, to the prison of the palace where they kept you safe, yes, but at what cost?

The night felt endless as you made your way back, every sound magnified in the stillness. You slipped inside your quarters, the shadows of the room wrapping around you like a cloak.

The dawn arrived far too quickly, casting a pale light through the narrow windows of your room. The silence of the early morning felt suffocating, the weight of the coming day settling over you like a thick fog. You lay still, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, unable to summon the strength to rise.

What if he doesn't make it out alive?

The day of the fight arrived, the arena packed with eager spectators. The air buzzed with excitement and bloodlust as the crowd roared for their favorite gladiators. You sat in the imperial box, your heart pounding in your chest as you watched Marcus step into the arena, his armor gleaming in the midday sun.

He looked up at you, his gaze steady and unwavering. For a moment, it was as if the crowd didn’t exist, as if the two of you were the only ones in the world.

Geta leaned toward you, a wicked grin on his face. “Enjoy the show, dear sister. It may be the last time you see him standing.”

You ignored him, your eyes fixed on Marcus as the gates to the arena opened, and his opponents emerged.

Two gladiators, seasoned and ruthless, stalked toward him, their weapons glinting menacingly. The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices deafening as the fight began.

Geta's smug expression faltered as the fight progressed. Caracalla leaned forward, his lips pressed into a thin line. They had underestimated Marcus. He wasn’t just their general; he was a force of nature, unrelenting and unyielding.

Your heart raced with every clash of swords, every grunt of exertion. When one opponent fell, another rose to take his place. It was as though they were testing Marcus, pushing him to his limits, but he didn’t falter.

A particularly vicious challenger came at him with a spear, forcing Marcus to dodge and roll. The crowd gasped, and your breath caught in your throat as the blade skimmed his armor, drawing a shallow line of blood.

“Do you see how much he bleeds for you, sister?” Geta’s voice was low, meant only for you to hear.

You didn’t answer, your eyes glued to Marcus. His movements slowed for a brief moment as he wiped the sweat and blood from his brow, but when he straightened, his resolve burned brighter than ever. He caught your gaze, and in that instant, it was as if the rest of the arena disappeared.

He fought for you, for the life you both longed for.

The final opponent stepped forward, a hulking brute armed with a massive sword. The crowd fell into a hushed silence, the tension thick in the air.

“Come on, Acacius,” you whispered under your breath, gripping the fabric of your gown so tightly your knuckles turned white.

The battle was brutal, each strike echoing through the arena like a drumbeat. Marcus moved with precision and strategy, using his smaller size and quicker reflexes to outmaneuver his opponent. The fight dragged on, the brute’s strength clashing against Marcus’s endurance.

Then, with a burst of speed, Marcus ducked under a wide swing and plunged his sword into the man’s side. The brute fell to his knees, and the crowd erupted in deafening cheers.

Marcus stood over his fallen opponent, his chest heaving, his armor streaked with blood. The herald stepped forward, announcing his victory to the roaring masses.

Geta scowled, his hand tightening around the armrest of his throne. “So, he wins,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Marcus turned to face the royal dais; his sword lowered but his gaze unwavering. “Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla” he called out, his voice carrying across the arena. “I have won this fight, as promised. Now I claim my prize, your sister as my wife.”

The crowd fell silent, awaiting Geta’s response. He rose from his seat, his face a mask of reluctant acceptance. “Very well, General Acacius,” he said, his tone clipped. “You have proven your worth. Take her.”

The silence that followed Geta's words felt like an eternity, heavy with the weight of what had just been declared. The air was thick with anticipation, and every eye in the Colosseum seemed to be on you. You stood there, still in the royal box, your heart pounding against your ribs as the realization hit you. Marcus had won, but the price was not just his life, it was your freedom.

Freedom was wherever he was.

You had been raised to understand the weight of loyalty, of duty, of family. But the fire that had burned between you and Marcus, the undeniable connection, had created a chasm between you and your brothers’ demands.

With each step Marcus took toward you, you could feel the eyes of the crowd on you, the pressure mounting as Geta’s scowl deepened.

“Don’t make me regret this, General Acacius.” Geta sneered as Marcus reached the steps, his voice laced with venom.

“I will not,” Marcus replied, his voice low. He climbed the steps of the royal box, his eyes never leaving you. When he reached you, he extended a hand toward you, strong and yet gentle, as if offering you not just a way out, but a promise of something more.

“Come with me, my lady.” he said softly, his voice breaking through the tumultuous emotions swirling inside you.

You hesitated for a moment, looking between your brothers and Marcus. Caracalla’s gaze was colder than ever, while Geta’s expression was twisted with frustration. It was clear neither of them had wanted this outcome. But they had given their approval, and now, there was nothing left for you but to make your choice.

Without a word, you placed your hand in Marcus’s. His grip was firm and reassuring as he helped you down from the royal box and onto the arena floor. The crowd erupted into cheers, their admiration for the general evident, but all you could hear was the steady beat of your heart.

“I do,” you whispered, the weight of everything, your family, your duty, your past, melting away under the intensity of his gaze.

“Do you truly wish to be mine, my lady?” Marcus asked, his voice a mix of challenge and tenderness as he gazed down at you, his hand still holding yours.

The days following the battle were a whirlwind of preparations, but not the kind you had ever imagined. While the Colosseum was still abuzz with the echoes of Marcus’s victory, the grand celebration your brothers had envisioned was coming. Servants ran through the villa, gathering flowers, arranging fine fabrics, and preparing for the grand ceremony that would take place the following day. But amidst all the anticipation, Marcus had quietly arranged something more personal, a moment just for the two of you, away from the expectations, away from the people, and away from the watchful eyes of the world.

A ceremony where only the two of you would be able to be part of.

No witnesses, but only the eyes of God.

The morning sunlight poured into the room, illuminating the soft hues of your garments as the servants busied themselves around you, adjusting folds and fastening clasps. You stood still, gazing out the window as they worked, your thoughts swirling between the ceremony last night and the new reality of soon-to-be Marcus’s wife.

The quiet hum of their chatter stopped abruptly, drawing your attention to the doorway. Marcus stepped in, his eyes locking onto yours with a look that seemed to quiet everything around you. He was dressed simply, not in the regal finery expected of a groom, but in a dark tunic that spoke more to his strength than his status.

His presence commanding yet calm. The servants turned to greet him, bowing their heads respectfully.

“May I have a moment with my lady?” he asked, his voice steady but kind.

The servants exchanged glances, then nodded, bowing their heads again before retreating from the room. As the door closed behind them, Marcus crossed the space to you, his steps unhurried.

“You seem a vision of grace this morning,” he murmured, his eyes taking in the sight of you.

You turned to face him, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “You flatter me, my general.”

His hand reached out, fingers brushing against the fabric of your dress. “It seems they left a task unfinished,” he said softly, gesturing to the loose lace at the back of your gown.

Before you could respond, Marcus stepped behind you, his hands deftly taking the lace and beginning to knot it. His touch was gentle, yet firm, the brush of his knuckles against your back sending shivers down your spine.

“There,” he said, his voice lower now, almost a whisper. “Perfect.”

His hands lingered for a moment before he leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder, where the silk of your dress met your skin. The warmth of his lips lingered, leaving your heart pounding.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his breath sending a thrill through you.

You turned slightly, your gaze meeting his. “Marcus…” you started, but the words seemed to fail you.

He straightened, his expression softening as he cupped your cheek with one hand. "Are you ready?" He asked gently.

You nodded, though your heart beat faster at the thought of what he had planned. “What are we doing?” you asked, curiosity stirring within you.

With a smile, Marcus held out his hand, the familiar strength and tenderness in his grip making your heart swell. "Come with me," he said softly, leading you out of the room and down the hallway, away from the bustle of servants and preparations.

You followed him through the villa’s quiet halls, your feet barely making a sound on the marble floors. Finally, you reached the private garden at the rear of the villa, a secluded spot surrounded by towering columns and vines heavy with flowers. The air here was cooler, calmer, and the scent of blooming jasmine filled the air.

This was where he had chosen to steal a moment for the two of you, where there would be no prying eyes, no expectations, just you and him.

"Acacius, what are we doing here?" you asked, your voice filled with wonder.

He turned to face you, his eyes shining with something deeper than just love, a sense of peace, perhaps, or gratitude. “Before we stand in front of everyone tomorrow, I wanted to share this moment with you.” he said, his tone low and sincere.

He reached for your hand, gently pulling you towards him. “This is our wedding, our vows,” he continued, his words soft but filled with unwavering emotion. “I don’t need the crowds to tell me I’m making the right choice. I just need you.”

A tear welled up in your eye at his words, the depth of his love and devotion overwhelming you. Marcus cupped your face with his hands, the touch warm and grounding.

“I know we can’t avoid the grand ceremony tomorrow,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “But here, in this moment, with no one else around, I want to give you all of me. You are my heart, and I want to vow myself to you, not in front of an emperor, not before the masses, but just to you.”

With his words, Marcus dropped to one knee, the powerful general you had come to admire now humbled by love and sincerity. "I stand before you today, not as a general, not as a man of Rome, but as a man who has found his purpose in you. You are my courage, my calm, and my reason to fight for something beyond duty. I vow to protect you with my life, to honor you with my actions, and to cherish you with every breath I take. Whatever battles may come, I will face them with you by my side. From this day forward, my heart belongs to you, and you alone."

"I..." you whispered, your voice trembling as you stepped closer, your hands trembling as they reached for him. You cupped his face in your hands, your eyes searching his for any trace of doubt. But there was none. There was only a quiet strength that matched your own, a promise you could hold onto for a lifetime.

"Acacius," you breathed, and this time, it was your turn to drop to your knees before him, your heart too full to be contained. You touched his face gently, as though afraid the moment might shatter if you touched him too hard.

"I vow to you as well," you said, your voice gaining strength with each word, your heart swelling with an emotion that could no longer be contained. "I vow to stand by your side, no matter what comes. I will be your strength when you need it, your peace when the world feels too heavy. I will love you beyond all else, in every way, in every moment. You are my heart as much as I am yours, Marcus. And I will spend every day proving it to you."

Marcus took your hands in his, his thumb brushing across your skin in a gesture so simple, so intimate, that it felt like a promise in itself. "You are everything to me," he whispered. "And from now on, your protection is my biggest battle to fight.

550 notes · View notes

absurdthirst · 3 months ago

Text

The Future of Rome {Marcus Acacius x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16.6k

Warnings: Mentions of orgies, whores, cuckolding, voyeurism, oral sex (male and female receiving), cream pie, breeding, mentions of feeding kink, vaginal sex, pregnancy, betrayal, conspiracy, murder

Comments: When Caracalla is unable to father a child on you, his empress, he enlists General Marcus Acacius to be his proxy between your thighs. Needing his general's seed in his efforts to father the next ruler of Rome.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Marcus Acacius MasterList ||

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you watch as your husband, Emperor Caracalla of Rome, paces in the large room, screaming and shouting like an overgrown child. At times, it feels like that is what he is, a child. A man child who controls the largest empire in the world, alongside his brother Geta. The two of them engaged in squabbles that would have all of the citizens of Rome demanding new leadership if they knew of them. “You must carry a child!” He hisses, turning and glaring at you as if you are at fault for the monthly flow of blood that comes between your thighs like clockwork. “How have you not been bred yet? I fill you nearly every week.” His eyes narrow and he stops his stride to turn towards you. “Are you doing something? Taking some tonic to prevent a child from growing?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Of course I would not.” You tell him. “It is my duty to provide you with an heir. Before Geta.” You know your husband wishes to best his brother by having a child before he does. “You are still fucking your concubines.” You remind him. “None of them have fallen pregnant with your bastard. Perhaps your seed is bad.” You could be risking his wrath by telling him what no hippocrates would, but he has never sired one bastard and he indulges in orgies and women all the time. You have no love for the husband you had been forced to marry by your father in return for Rome not destroying your homelands.

Caracalla’s eyes grow wide and he hisses, striding over to you and you brace yourself as he hits you across the face with the back of his hand. You gasp and he looms over you, “you dare to insult me like that, uxor? I am divine. Ordained by the gods and you are? Some whore daughter of a King who wilted under the glory of the Roman army. You are fortunate I chose you to be Empress. An honor I bestow upon you and you have the gall to question my seed.” He rants but he knows you could be true. He longs to have an heir before his brother and even if he fucks you every day, you still bleed. He has never fathered a bastard. You cup your cheek, keeping your head down and he sighs, “we must seek a solution.” He declares, frowning as he considers his options to ensure he beats his brother to the heir.

You bite your lip to keep from crying, knowing that tears would only incense the man you are married to even more. Caracalla does not like to see you cry, even if he is cruel and cutting. When he punishes you for any perceived slight. Tears are a sign of weakness in his eyes and he will not have you shed them in his presence. “What solution would you have?” You know he cannot seek out a healer, the risk of rumor would be too great. Any kind of whisper about this would make its way back to Geta.

He paces in front of the balcony, the linens flowing in the breeze. “I need an heir who will be strong, a fighter. I need a boy. I need you to give birth to the next heir. We need to ensure that you get pregnant as soon as possible.” He murmurs, speaking his mind and he finally turns to you. “We need to have someone else get you pregnant. We need - General Marcis Acacius.” He declares, eyes wide.

You frown, trying to recall what the man looks like. He has been away from Rome for nearly two years, since just after you had married Caracalla. “He looks nothing like you.” You point out.

“I don’t need him to look like me. I need a boy and he’s a strong fighter. He will give our child the characteristics he needs to lead Rome and her army.” He declares, “you will fuck him when he returns.” He orders and you swallow harshly, knowing you will struggle to have relations with a man that isn’t your husband but you have no choice but to do as he demands.

“I will gift you to him to fuck.” He continues on, a wild and honestly frightening smile splitting his face. “It will be an honor, for fighting so valiantly for Rome.” He isn’t talking to you, but rather plotting out what will happen. You can’t quite recall what Marcus Acacius looks like, but you hope that he will be quick to cum like Caracalla, or at least his seed will take root quickly.

****

Marcus looks up at the marbled entrance as he arrives at the palace to meet the Emperors and tell them about his success in person. He’s sent messengers but he must tell them of his accomplishments rather than be allowed to return to his home to relax. He sighs as he adjusts the white and gold tunic and armor that suffocates him. It’s for display, not ideal for battle, and he knows the Emperors will have a feast planned soon after his report and he’s expected to be on display. He scratches his cheek as he is escorted through the halls until he arrives in the grand hall where the Emperors are waiting. He strides to stand before them and bows his head, “Rome is in your hands.” He vows, “we have conquered Africa.” He announces, “for you and for Rome.”

Dressed in snowy white silk and gold, you are sitting off to the side, ignored by your husband and brother as they had waited for the general’s approach. You had heard the crowds outside the palace, the roars echoing dimly and you sat up slightly from the chaise when the doors had opened. Finding a much different man than you had expected walking confidently towards them. He’s older than you remembered, but his gray hair is still pleasant as it mixes with his darker locks. He’s handsome, not the sharp nosed beauty of your fair husband, but darker, broader. His nose is curved and his eyes are the color of night from where you sit. You want to see them up close. He’s large, larger than Caracalla and you wonder if you are the whore some have whispered you must be, for you want to see what this man would be like inside you.

Caracalla cannot let his brother know his plan. No one can know. Geta greets Marcus who bows his head and his dark eyes flick over to you for a moment. When you arrived at the palace you were reluctant to marry Caracalla. He remembers hearing the rumors of your attempts to escape, and the way Caracalla treats you from guards that he served with. He clenches his jaw, standing up straight and the Emperors sing his praises so he offers them polite smiles. He’s sick of war. He’s tired of fighting an endless battle for more land when the Roman Empire is struggling. People cannot eat. Men are dying. It’s an endless grab for power and the Emperors are not fighting for it themselves. “Tonight, we feast in your honor.” Geta declares, clapping Marcus on the back and he follows the Emperors to the head table where he will sit while the court and the senate celebrate his success.

When his eyes land on yours, a shiver races through your body. This is a man who has seen death. Dealt out harsh punishments and narrowly survived. He’s much more rugged, raw. So different from your spoiled and foppish husband. He should be a leader for Rome, rather than a man who has never seen war. You are ignored, so you undrape yourself from your seat and slowly stroll into the hall to join the festivities.

Marcus notices you as you sit down beside your husband and he’s taken back by how beautiful you are but he also sees the sadness in your eyes. The lifeless stare across the room tells him you’re lonely while your husband guzzles wine and cheers for the victory he played no physical part in. He does as is expected, eating and drinking his fill but he thinks about the starvation he witnessed, the poverty that the empire has caused from taxing too much and forcing more war on its people. “We shall acquire whores to pleasure you, General.” Geta insists, “you will be serviced until you feel rewarded for your victory for Rome.” The court cheers and Caracalla then leans in towards you, “return to your room. I want you ready to take the general.” He commands, whispering in your ear.

You don’t sigh, nodding and leaning in to kiss his cheek for show before you stand up and walk out of the room without looking back. Knowing the Emperor, he will want you nude and wearing some of the jewels that had been sent back to Rome as tribute. You have already been bathed and perfumed by your servants in anticipation of your husband fucking you tonight, but Caracalla always demands privacy in the wing of the palace you live in. His oddity will work in his favor for concealing who is planting his seed in your belly tonight.

Marcus is ready to head home when Caracalla whispers in his ear, “I wish to speak privately.” Marcus frowns as he pulls back to look into the manic eyes of the emperor and he knows he can never deny him. He nods and stands with the emperor. He bows to Geta even though the other emperor is busy with his tongue down a whore’s throat as the festivities begin. Caracalla dismisses his guards with a wave of his hand and he guides Marcus through the halls until he enters his private chambers. Marcus is anxious, wondering if the emperor is going to kill him even though the idea is laughable. He’s been a man of luxury. Only carrying a sword for show and never for battle. The emperor still doesn’t speak as he strides over to the doors and he opens them to display you on the bed naked and draped in jewels, a nervous look on your face. “What is the meaning of this?” Marcus demands, confused and wanting to leave to retire to his villa. Not to play games.

“I tried to imagine what kind of reward a man of your talents would enjoy.” Caracalla hums as he smirks victoriously. You are a gorgeous creature and he knows that the man will have no problem mounting you. “Whores are too boring, they have had too many men, been soiled by their pleasures.” He takes Marcus’s shoulders and turns him back towards you and the bed. “But an Empress’s cunt? She’s only had one other cock. She’s practically pure and it’s tight.” He chuckles. “My brother gives you a common whore to fuck, I give you a royal cunt.” Again, it’s a competition between the brothers and he’s determined to best Geta.

Marcus’s eyes widen at the Emperor’s offer and he looks over at you. His cock twitches under his tunic at the way you’re on display for him, but he wonders if this is some kind of test from the emperor. He swallows harshly and looks back at Caracalla. “You honor me but I am - I am satisfied with whores. I do not want to sully the empress with my - with my body. She is divine and deserves to be fucked by a man like you, a man chosen by the gods.”

You lift a brow, wondering what the Emperor will say to that. Would he admit that he has been unsuccessful in breeding you? That there is something wrong with him? Or will he blame it on you? There is no telling with Caracalla. You shift to your knees, spread apart on the bed so he can get a good look at your body.

Marcus’s cock twitches again, hardening as your breasts bounce and he swallows harshly, averting his eyes once again. “I don’t - I don’t understand.” Marcus admits, knowing that only the emperor can fuck the empress to get her with child. “I want you to fuck my uxor and I want to watch.” Caracalla confesses, “and I want you to spill your seed inside of her.”

His eyes slide over your body again and you can see the way his cock is starting to lift the fabric of his tunic. Your nipples are hardening because you are enticing this war-hardened general. “The emperor is very generous.” You tell Marcus, sliding a hand up to cup one tit. “He has never been one to share and yet he wishes to honor his general.” You don’t mention why he would want such a thing. “Do you not like cunt?” You ask, wondering if he might prefer the boys in the bath houses. You have heard rumors of some senators who often prefer the company of men than their wives. Perhaps the general is one of them.

Marcus shakes his head, “no. I- I do. It’s just -” He looks at Caracalla, “you’re the empress and I cannot - the heir cannot be from anyone but the emperor.” Marcus reasons and Caracalla reaches out to squeeze his shoulder, “you have to understand, General, I am asking you to fill up my wife. We have been unsuccessful in our venture to have an heir and I must beat my brother to it. I wish for you to spill your seed inside my empress…regardless of the consequences.” He declares and Marcus’s eyes widen slightly as he understands what is being asked of him.

You can see that Marcus Acacius is not a foolish man, he understands the danger he has found himself in. He cannot deny the Emperor, and he could never speak of it. “Maritus.” You murmur softly, bringing his attention back to you. “Tell the general what kind of son you wish to have.”

Caracalla senses Marcus’s panic and he smirks, “I want a warrior son. Someone who will be strong and fight for Rome, to protect our line.” He says even though he knows the child would not be his blood. “The name. My name must continue through him. I want a gladiator and you possess those traits. I wish for my son to have them. Do you wish to fill my beautiful wife with your seed and produce the next heir to the Roman Empire?” He asks even though he knows no one says no to the emperor.

You can see that Marcus is torn. He can’t say no, just like you could not run away from him when he had decided to take you as his empress. “He is handsome.” You coo. “Strong. He will put a son you will be proud of in my belly.” You tell your husband. “While enjoying himself by having an empress spread her thighs for him.”

Marcus knows he can’t refuse. He must fuck you and you’re a beautiful woman but he prays to the gods that the emperor doesn’t change his mind and punish you or him after the act is complete. “As my emperor wishes.” He nods and Caracalla claps, “excellent. My uxor will strip you. I wish to watch the act.” He says, spinning to make his way to the chair in the corner. Marcus is shocked that the man wants to watch but he doesn’t deny him, knowing that could be his head. He nods and walks over to the bed, waiting for your move.

Sliding off the bed, you stand straight, unashamed of your nudity. You might have only had Caracalla as a lover, but he often wanted you nude to just gaze upon you while you were together. You reach for the golden laurel on his head and remove it gently. “Tonight we will see if your prowess in battle is matched by your vigor in bed.” You smile at him, wanting to make sure he doesn’t change his mind. “If your cock truly is as big as your sword.” You giggle. “Some of the women you have fucked talk.”

Marcus’s cock is hardening with your words and your touch. You are one of the most beautiful women in the empire, if not the most, and Marcus is not immune to your beauty. You set his laurel down and Caracalla takes his place in the corner of the room. He flusters at his reputation and wonders what you will think of him. If he lives up to the rumors.

You try to forget your husband is watching, concentrating on the man in front of you. The gold wrist cuffs come off and you wonder if he would prefer the unadorned look. Rather than being weighed down by the ostentatious trappings of his role. You know you would rather live simply. “Relax, General.” You hum quietly. “The emperor has taught me how to please him. Hopefully I will please you as well.”

Marcus is nervous, anxious, and every emotion a man can be when he’s being used for his seed and watched as he pleasures the wife of one of the most powerful men in the empire. He keeps his hands by his sides until you reach for the hem of his tunic. He’s ashamedly hard, unable to be anything but when you are in front of him. You smell delicious and he knows he’d be diving into your cunt if you came to his home without your status and stature.

Biting your lip, you lift the tunic to reveal his hard cock and you moan softly. “Step back, let me look.” Caracalla demands and you turn to the side to show the emperor his cock. “He is very well endowed.” Your husband smirks. “Good. I would hate for my son to have a less than impressive cock.” He is very proud of his own, even if he is not as thick as Marcus. You reach down and brush your finger over the length as you pull the tunic over his head.

He hisses when your fingers brush his length and you smirk, tossing his tunic aside. Caracalla often indulges in men when he is in the throes of an orgy and he is impressed by the general. His shoulders are broad and muscular. Strong arms. Tapered waist and a full head of hair, albeit graying, even in his ripe age. This is the man who could sire him a son who would be legendary in Rome. “Kiss him.” Caracalla demands, wanting to be in control even if it is not his seed securing his lineage.

You lick your lips, leaning in and press your lips to the slightly chapped ones of the general. You sense his hesitation, knowing that he is unsure of the motives behind this. Instead of pulling back, you press your breasts against his chest, feeling the light hairs covering his skin tickle you.

His fingers flex and Caracalla chuckles, “you can touch her, General.” There’s the permission Marcus needs. His hands slide along your back, pulling you even closer and one hand slides up your body to cup your cheek, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. His tongue finds yours and you squeak, unused to such aggressive kissing. Caracalla likes softer especially when he’s wanting the opposite of his lovers or orgies.

Your husband hums, reaching for his wine with one hand and reaching down to squeeze his cock with the other. If it would not potentially ruin the chances of you conceiving a child, he would join you. See how Marcus kisses. Instead, he takes pleasure in knowing that the most powerful general in his army is following his orders even off the battlefield.

Marcus groans into your mouth, his hand sliding down to squeeze your ass while he grips the back of your neck. He’s relieved that he sought the company of a whore before arriving back in Rome. He would embarrass himself if he were pent up. He loves the way your fingers tangle in his hair and he is glad to see the empress is not shy about taking what she wants.

The emperor very rarely lets you do what you wish, so this is a new experience for you and you are greedy for it. “Get on your knees.” The order comes from behind you and makes you pull away. Aware that Caracalla will still try to dictate the way you are fucked. “Let the general see you on your knees before him and feel your mouth around his cock.”

Marcus inhales sharply as he watches you sink to your knees in front of him. His sandals are still on his feet while his cock throbs from arousal. Your eyes are sultry as you look up at him, looking like Venus herself. He swallows and hisses softly when you wrap your fingers around his cock.

You squeeze him gently, feeling him throb in your hand and you roll back the foreskin. You have pleasured your husband like this countless times and he claims you are good at it, so hopefully you don’t disappoint the general. Leaning forward, you press your tongue flat against the tip and then curl it around the head as you take him into your mouth. The general has bathed, so he tastes clean and musky.

His fingers flex by his side as you take him into your mouth. He groans quietly but Caracalla shakes his head, "I want to hear how my empress is making you feel." He demands and Marcus nods, groaning louder when you take him deeper into your mouth. "Fuck." He curses, his hand finding your cheek as he looks down at you.

You hum at his rough praise, feeling the way his hips slightly rock, like he wants to take control and fuck your mouth. Taking him deeper, you moan when the first spurt of his salty seed hits your tongue, a little treat to tell you he is enjoying it.

His eyes flutter closed as he loses himself in the feel of your mouth around his cock. He can tell you’re not as experienced as the whores he has had but you are enthusiastic and he fucking loves that. “Open your eyes, Acacius.” Caracalla orders, wanting to see the pleasure on the man’s face.

You take him deep right as he opens his eyes and they widen in shock as he chokes out a sound that goes straight to your cunt. Pleased that you can make a man as strong and fierce as the general choke on his own breath. You start to bob your head quickly, wanting to hear more and to see his face screw up in pleasure.

Marcus groans, his chin resting on his chest as he watches you take his cock. “Fuck.” He grunts as your hands rest on his thighs as you take his cock in your mouth. His stomach clenches and he moans, shaking his head. “I am - I’m going to- shit. Stop.” He pleads, his cock twitching in your mouth.

You are surprised that he is already about to cum, but maybe he has been without the pleasure of a woman for too long. You pull off his cock, panting yourself as you wipe your chin. Your cunt is dripping and you are eager to see if his cock scrubs against your walls the way you hope he does. Despite your initial reservations about having sex with someone else, you now find yourself looking forward to fucking this man

He is shocked how quickly you worked him up but perhaps it’s because this is not a whore he’s paid for. You are the most coveted woman in the empire, a prize to your husband, and you’re on your knees for him. Caracalla smirks at the look on the general’s face. He looks worked up and the emperor smirks, “you need to spill inside her. Uxor, lay down on the bed and spread your legs for the general. Let him see how wet you get sucking a cock.”

You shift to your feet and turn around. Your eyes slide to your husband and you see that he is turned on, his own cock tenting his tunic. Laying down, you spread your legs. Bending your knees you run your hands down to spread the lips of your sex for him to see. “Soaked.” You moan softly.

Marcus’s eyes darken as he takes in the sight of your wet cunt. You’re dripping and he loves it. He reaches down to squeeze his cock as he shuffles closer. Caracalla smirks at the look on the general’s face. “You can fuck her, Acacius. You have the emperor’s blessing. Fill her with your seed and create the next emperor of Rome.” He demands and Marcus shifts to kneel on the bed. His free hand slides up your thigh until he’s pushing two thick digits into your dripping cunt.

Your eyes flutter closed on a loud moan, feeling the way his fingers stretch you out. His hands are rough, the skin scraping so deliciously inside you and making your legs shift and shake around his hips. This man will be so different from the only other man you have had sex with, you know that instinctively and for a split second, you pray to the gods that it will take more than one time for him to successfully fill you with his seed.

He pumps his fingers, loving how wet you are around them, and he groans when you squeeze his digits. He wants you to cum like this. His thumb against your clit, he curls his fingers while your emperor watches you. His fingers squeeze his cock through his tunic while Marcus strokes his cock with his fist.

Your body responds to the sure, deep pumps of his fingers into your cunt. “Gods.” You whimper, watching as his dark, intense eyes watch his fingers move inside you. Completely focused on making you feel blissful before he mounts you. You won’t say that your husband hasn’t pleasured you, but it’s always been a byproduct of his own, rather than his complete goal. “It feels so good. His fingers are magical.”

Caracalla smirks as he watches your back arch and you moan as Marcus pumps his fingers into you. The room is filled with a squelch as you take what he gives you. “That’s it, Empress.” He coos, pressing his thumb harder against your clit.

You pant out your first name. “Call me by my name when you are inside me.” You order breathlessly, wanting to hear him say your name. Turning your head, you look to your husband behind you, seeing that he is actually enjoying watching you like this. You know he has attended many orgies and probably watched many people have sex, but his eyes are alight with glee, watching this general touch you.

Marcus watches you as you take his fingers and groans at the way you are fluttering around his digits. He says your name as a demand, wanting you to fall apart for him before he fucks you full of his seed. Caracalla watches and smirks, his cock now pulled out so he can slowly jerk himself at the sight in front of him.

Whimpering quietly, your body starts to react. Toes curling and thighs shaking as your cunt clenches down around his thick fingers. “Marcus!” Your gasp of his name is loud, almost surprised as the intense pleasure rips through you, his fingers pressing against something wonderful inside you.

He groans, cock twitching in his hand as you soak his digits and Caracalla chuckles, “she loves your fingers, General.” Marcus smirks and works you through it, pulling his fingers out after you start to whine. “You want me to fuck you, Empress?” He asks, smirking as he jerks his cock against your pelvis.

You moan, nodding as you try to roll your hips down. He looks confident now, like the general you know he must be on the battlefield. “I do, General. Fuck me full.”

He nods, shifting to position his cock at your entrance, swiping it through your folds as he groans softly when he notches himself at your entrance and starts to push inside you with a soft groan of your name. You’re so tight and hot, his eyes flutter closed at the way you feel around him.

He’s thick. Thicker than Caracalla, stretching you more than his fingers did and pulling a long, wanton moan from your chest. You are taking another man. Having his cock inside you and you hear your husband groan as he watches. He sounds almost envious, but you can only care about the way Marcus fills you right now. “Fuck.” You whine when his hips are flush and his cock is pushed deep and kissing your womb. “Your cock is made by the gods.” You praise breathlessly.

Marcus looks down at you, his chest heaving at the way you are taking his cock and he shifts to his forearms so he can hover over you. Your legs lift to wrap around his hips and his face hovers near yours. “You’re so tight.” He hisses and Caracalla smirks, “I told you. She’s like a virgin.” He declares as he squeezes his cock in his hand, working himself as Marcus starts to move inside you.

That first thrust is a sharp snap of his hips. Making you scream and your nails dig into his biceps. Marcus freezes, fearing that he had made an error, but your thighs tighten. “More, move general.” You demand, wanting to see if he can make you scream like that again.

He loves the way you command him, reminding him of your status. He relaxes now that he knows he didn’t hurt you and he rocks his hips, pushing deep into you. “Empress. Scream for me.” He growls, leaning in to kiss your neck since he doesn’t know if kissing is permissible. His hips rock forward as he pushes against your cervix.

You moan softly, knowing that he will make you scream if he moves like this inside you. “Kiss him.” Caracalla orders, giving permission and you quickly turn your head to press your lips to Marcus's as his head comes up. He rocks into you steadily, your fingers tracing over the scars on his back and side as he fucks you. Mapping the wars that he has fought and the times he has survived to experience this moment. “So deep.” You whimper.

He is lost in the feel of your hot cunt around his cock. Your body takes everything he gives you. His hips slap against your ass and he shifts his weight onto one arm so he can grab your thigh, pushing it back towards your stomach as he sinks impossibly deeper into you. His tongue sliding against yours to swallow your moan.

You don’t even think about Caracalla, although you hear the sound of him stroking his cock. Too taken by the way that Marcus fucks you. He’s rougher, harder than your husband and his pace makes your walls flutter around his cock every time he drills into you. It’s so wicked, forbidden and the people of Rome would be horrified if they knew that their Empress was being fucked like a common whore, but you love it.

He groans into your mouth as you grip his shoulders and he rocks harder into you, wanting to feel you cum around him. His hand slides up your thigh until he’s rubbing your clit. He may have had many whores but he’s always prided himself on ensuring they were pleasured too. “Empress.” He groans against your chin, “want you to cum for me.”

You whine into his mouth when he comes back to kiss you. Rocking up against his fingers as you try to get as close as possible to him. One hand slides down to his ass, feeling it flex as he pumps into you. “Yes. Yes.” You chant, eyes closed in bliss.

Marcus grunts as he grinds into you, his fingers rubbing your clit faster as he wants you to cum for him. He kisses along your neck and Caracalla is invisible to him as he focuses completely on you. “Cum for me.” He demands and you cry into his mouth as you fall apart for him.

It’s good, better than any pleasure Caracalla has ever given you but you can never admit that. Your body trembles under his as your walls spasm around him. Making him groan as you gasp out his name. “Marcus!” You feel how you soak his cock and the sounds it makes as he fucks you through it.

He loves the way you squeeze him and he hisses your name, rocking into you. He knows he should hold off, make you fall apart again but he is wound up by the circumstances. “Fill her up, Acacius.” Caracalla demands and Marcus buries his face in your neck as he thrusts a half dozen more times until he’s pushing deep and filling you up with hot spurts of cum.

The hot splash of his seed makes you whine, eyes closed as you feel him ride out his pleasure, cock pulsing inside you. He doesn’t pull out of you immediately and you enjoy his weight on top of you. He is heavier, broader than your husband and you like feeling like you are at his mercy. The sweat slick skin of his back slides under your fingers and you stroke it and you sigh in bliss.

Marcus shifts to take his weight off you and he swallows harshly. He hasn’t cum that hard since he was with his wife. He kisses your neck without Caracalla seeing it and your emperor stands, cock in his hand, to stand at the foot of the bed. “Pull out of her. I want to see your seed drip out of her.” He demands and Marcus shifts to pull out of you. He lays beside you and Caracalla stands there, eyes dark as he takes in the sight of your dripping cunt.

You can’t really tell what your husband is thinking, his eyes wide and slightly manic. He’s not upset, that much you can tell. “What do you think, maritus?” You ask softly.

He smirks, jerking his cock as he kneels on the bed. “I want to cover you in my seed.” He says as he watches you while you lay on the bed, chest heaving.

You don’t dare look over at Marcus, keeping your eyes on your husband as he starts to buck into his hand. You can tell he’s already close from the groans. “Cover me.” You urge him, spreading your thighs wider. “Coat me and we will pray to the gods that they will give you a strong child.”

Caracalla doesn’t hesitate as he starts to cover you. Hot drops of his seed hitting your skin and covering your cunt that is still creamy from Marcus’s cum. “That’s it. It’s - our warrior.” He groans as he works himself empty of every drop while Marcus relaxes beside you.

You reach down and swipe your fingers through his seed and bring it up to your mouth. He loves when you taste him and he finally milks the last drops out of his cock as you moan softly, licking your digits clean.

Caracalla smirks, “perfect. Fucking perfect. You will be with child before we know it.” He says as he looks over at Marcus, “I want you here to fill her up every day until she’s with child.” He demands, “you will remain here in our quarters. No one will question you because we have no guards inside.”

You are surprised by the Emperor’s order, but you don’t question it. “Will you be present every time, or do you want him to fill me as often as possible?” You ask, looking over at the general to see what he thinks.

Marcus knows he cannot say no. He nods and shifts to sit up on the bed. “I shall do as my emperor desires.” He promises and Caracalla smirks, “you’ll fill her up every single day until it takes.” He demands and Marcus bows his head. “I will let you two decide the times. I cannot afford to spend too much time here and I don’t want people to get suspicious.”

“Of course, maritus.” You shift to your knees and press your lips to your husband’s briefly and he huffs before pushing you back down to the bed. “You must lay there.” He tells you. “Lift your hips so his seed isn’t wasted.”

Marcus reaches for his tunic, suddenly feeling awkward as he redresses while you lay down and keep your hips tilted. He possibly just got the empress pregnant and no one can ever know. The senate would have him killed for his treason, Geta certainly would. Caracalla tucks himself away and strides over to clap Marcus on the back. “I’ll show you to your rooms and we will have your things brought to the palace.” Marcus nods, letting the emperor guide him through the halls until he’s in an ornate room. “You have one job now, General. Fuck my uxor and fill her until it takes.” Caracalla says, his eyes a little manic. Marcus nods and watches the emperor leave. He looks around and sighs, wondering what he’s gotten himself into.

You lay with your hips for an hour. Bored and replaying your encounter with Marcus as Caracalla’s cum dries on your skin. He’s a better lover than your husband and you are ashamed of it, but you are looking forward to having him in your bed again.

Marcus looks around the room, unsure of what to do or say as he comes to the realization that his dream of enjoying time alone in his villa is long gone. He’s under the thumb of the emperor now and he must do as he says otherwise he will face execution.

****

The next afternoon, you find Marcus on the balcony, appearing deep in thought. “I am not disturbing you, am I General?” You ask softly, waiting by the pillar for him to acknowledge you. You wonder what he thinks about this, about being commanded to fill you with his child.

Marcus turns to look at you, reminded of how beautiful you are as the sun shines on your face. “Good day, Empress. You’re not disturbing me.” He promises, “are you well?” He asks, wanting to make sure he hasn’t harmed you.

“I am.” You smile as you walk out onto the balcony and look at the gardens below. “Sore, in a very good way.” You assure him, glancing over at him before looking back out at the neatly manicured hedges and plants. “I hope that you do not feed trapped here.” You murmur softly. “I am sure you are used to doing what you wish when you wish it.”

Marcus looks down at the olive trees and sighs, his hands wringing together. “You and I both know we have no choice but to follow the orders of the Emperor. I did not imagine returning from war to engage in the breeding of the empress. You are a beautiful woman and if you were not the uxor of Caracalla, I would be thanking the gods for letting me be in your bed, but the circumstances are…unusual. As long as you have need of me, I’m at your service.” He assures you, “it is not a task to fuck you but I worry for the day the emperor changes his mind.”

“Caracalla cannot have anyone know about his bad seed.” You murmur quietly. “Especially not Geta. He will not change his mind, but…..” you look around and lower your voice. “I do not trust that he might get rid of you once I have given birth to a son.”

Marcus turns to look at you again, “I would not be surprised but I’d rather have that issue several moons from now instead of being killed for not following orders. It will not be a hard task to put a child in you but you must tell me if you do not wish to take me.” He insists, “I do not want to fuck an unwilling woman.”

You snort, turning to look out at the gardens so he doesn’t see your embarrassment. “He would have my tongue cut out for admitting this, but you are better.” You admit softly. “I spent an hour with my hips tilted towards the gods, replaying what you had just done to me, imagining it happening again and again.”

Marcus turns to look at you, eyebrows raised, and he cannot deny that his cock twitches while his chest puffs with pride. “Is that so? Do you wish for us to…repeat the event soon to ensure the next emperor of Rome? I must admit that I have had many women, most of them whores, but no one has made me cum as hard as you did.”

That makes you straighten, pleased by the notion that you can bring this general to his knees. Making his core quiver in pleasure despite your lack of experience with partners. You bite your lip and turn towards him. “Perhaps we should retire and make sure that we have enough energy for our next session?” You ask, your fingers sliding along the smooth marble edge of the balcony to touch his hand. “The emperor was most insistent that you fill me often. I believe that we should obey his orders.”

Marcus smirks, seeing the eager look in your eyes, and he leans closer. “We wouldn’t want to disappoint the emperor. Shall we convene in your quarters or mine?” He asks, his eyes dropping down to your lips. You’re forbidden to everyone except Caracalla and now…him. It’s intoxicating especially when you tell him he’s better. Even if it’s just to float his ego.

“Yours.” You decide, wondering if it will be acceptable to him. “Unless you need to leave again as soon as it’s done?” You ask, hoping that he would not want you to leave. You spend a lot of time by yourself and you are curious to hear about his campaigns and the places he has seen.

He glances back over the gardens, “I am here to fulfill an order from the emperor and I wish to do it to the best of my ability. Let us retire to my quarters and you are welcome to remain as long as you please.” He promises and he wants to speak to you about your former kingdom, your father, and the army who took you from your home to deliver you to the Emperor.

Nodding, you feel that same odd sense of giddiness that had overcome you last night. A forbiddenness that has been temporarily allowed, even ordained by the gods. A taste of normalcy, where you can pretend that you are not an Empress. Nothing but a woman that this handsome, virile man wants. “Call me by my name.” You ask, almost as a plea.

His eyes meet yours and he licks his lips as he says your name. He loves the smile you give him in return and his hand brushes yours, “lead the way, empress.” He demands, saying your name again when you narrow your eyes at him.

“Do you prefer to be called by your rank or your name?” You ask softly, turning away from the balcony and walking back inside with him towards his chamber.

“You can call me by my name.” He says, following you as you walk through the hallway to his newly assigned quarters. It’s more than anything he’s ever had before. Even in his beautiful villa. He follows you inside and shuts the door behind you, “you are exquisite.” He declares when you turn to look at him.

“Do you claim those words for every whore you fuck?” You ask curiously, tilting your head as you smile at him, showing him that you are teasing. “Or do you save that for the special ones?”

Marcus shakes his head, “there’s usually no words when I have a whore in my quarters. I like to speak with my actions. Not my words.” He confesses, stepping over to you. He reaches up to cup your cheeks, “you truly are Venus herself.” He murmurs, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours.

“You are handsome.” You admit breathlessly. “Strong, fierce. Like Apollo.” Your hands run up the soft white tunic he is wearing. “I thought so last night when you were inside me. Riding me hard and yet-“ your lips brush against his. “Your lips were tender.”

His cock twitches at the soft contact of your lips and he can’t help it. He grabs the back of your neck and drags you closer to him, tilting his head so he can press his lips to yours. You’re so soft against him, pliable as his other hand grips your waist.

He’s so dominant, in control. You can tell this is a man who is used to being in charge, taking what he needs to take. You don’t resist, pressing yourself against his hard body, letting the kiss deepen as you open your mouth and let out a soft moan.

His tongue slides against yours and he groans you relinquish power to him. You’re so eager to please. He wants to taste you though, all of you. His mouth pulls away from yours so he can kiss along your jaw down to your neck, and he starts walking you backwards towards his bed.

You let him guide you, willing to do whatever he wants. Although it’s easy to see that he wants your dress off when his fingers reach for the ornate pin on your shoulder that keeps the material up. You wonder if it will be different this time since Caracalla isn’t watching.

He pulls on the pin and your robes fall to the marbled floor, exposing you to the cool breeze and he pushes you back onto the bed, loving the way your tits bounce as you fall backwards. He wants to taste you so he grabs your waist, lifting you higher up the bed, and he pushes your thighs apart, wasting no time before he dives in to slide his tongue through your folds.

You gasp in surprise, eyes widening as you lurch up. It’s not that you’ve never had this kind of attention, but that it’s rare. Caracalla prefers to have your mouth on him. Your fingers tangle into his hair and you moan loudly when he flicks his tongue over your clit.

He groans at the tangy taste of your arousal. His fingers dig into your thighs as he pushes them apart so he can slide his tongue against your clit. “Fuck.” He curses when he pulls back for a moment, spreading you with his thumbs so he can suck your clit into his mouth.

You whine his name, closing your eyes. “Marcus.” Your hips roll up until he throws one arm over your waist to pin you down. Holding you in place while he does wonderful things to your cunt with his tongue.

He laps at your cunt, wanting to hear you fall apart for him. There’s no rush for this. Caracalla isn’t watching and you are alone with the general. He approaches your cunt like a battlefield, using the best method to make you fall apart for him. He laps at your clit, his fingers digging into your thigh as he pushes it towards your stomach with a groan.

You pull your thighs back like he wants, reaching down and holding them so he can lick as deep as he wants into you. Moaning out his name again as he continues to feast on your cunt like a man who has been given his last meal besides an execution.

He groans into your flesh, loving the way you open yourself up for him, and he slides his tongue as deep as he can go, loving the tang of your arousal and the way you moan his name.

He groans in your flesh, vibrating it deep into your core and it makes you clench around his tongue. Pushing your hips down against his face, you want to grind into it. To ride his tongue. You’ve heard of such things, witnessed some of the orgies when you had been spying on your husband’s parties after you had been sent off to bed. “Marcus, oh fuck. I- it’s so good.”

He loves hearing your cry of pleasure and his nose presses against your clit. His hand on your hips slides up to squeeze your breast, wanting you to cry out his name again. At this moment, he doesn’t care about anyone hearing your cries even though the Emperor wants this to be your dirty secret. He groans and pinches your nipple, wanting you to fall apart again.

You shiver, your legs tremble as you climb closer to your peak. Feeling your body start to buck again as he pinches your nipple again. “Cum for me and I’ll fuck you.” He rasps out, pulling away from your cunt long enough to order you to cum before he dives back into it. Throwing you over the edge with another swipe of his tongue, your cunt starts to gush in pleasure as you clench around nothing.

He laps up every drop you offer. Like elixir, he greedily sucks at your folds and your clit, working you through your orgasm as his fingers grip your body to keep you in place until you push his head away, overstimulated. He’s aching, hard and pressing into the bed.

“Gods.” You pant, pushing to your elbows and looking down at him. “You are good at that.” You reach down and grab his shoulder to drag him up. “Kiss me.” You beg, not caring that your juices are on his mouth. “Then I want you to fuck me.”

He cannot deny you anything. Shifting onto his knees, his cock tenting his tunic as he leans down to press his lips to yours. He shifts his weight to push against you and he hisses when you reach for the hem of his tunic to pull it over his head, breaking the kiss.

“You are gorgeous.” You whisper, reaching down and wrapping your fingers around his cock. “Do you like to fuck away the heat of battle when you come back to your tent?” You ask curiously. “Do you prefer a softer touch then to counteract the violence of earlier?”

He groans, looking down at your soft hand around his cock, “it depends. Mostly it’s rough, fuck away the adrenaline.” He says and leans in to kiss along your jaw as he holds his weight over you. “Gods, you are - let me inside you.” He pleads, needing to feel your hot cunt again.

You spread your thighs wider, lifting a leg to hook onto the side of his hip. “Fuck me.” You order him, surprised that he had even asked permission.

You release his cock and he grips himself, pumping his length a few times, squeezing as he positions himself at your dripping entrance. He slowly pushes into you, wanting to feel how hot and wet you are as he gives you inch after inch of his cock.

It’s slower than last night. As if he is savoring every inch as he pushes inside you. You don’t rush him, enjoying the way his cock scrubs against your walls slowly, breaking you open and making your cunt fit him inside. Holding onto his shoulders, you encourage him with your sounds, moaning in pleasure and caressing his skin as he pauses halfway inside you.

He surges forward to press his lips to yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he pushes the rest of the way inside you. His cock twitches once he presses against your cervix, groaning at how you’re gripping him. His hand caresses your side as he slides his hand up to your breast.

His grip on your flesh is possessive, sure. Taking more liberties now that your husband is not directing his movements. “I’m yours now.” You murmur softly in encouragement. “Touch me. Explore me. Use me how you want.”

He knows you’re not his, can never be his, but you are in this moment, and he’s greedy. He groans, kissing along your neck, and he ducks his head down to take your nipple into his mouth. He bites down, sucking on the hardened nub, and he loves how you cry out at his touch.

You love your breasts being played with. Caracalla has a feeding obsession, wishing that you produced milk, but hopefully soon you will be able to. You wonder if Marcus would want to taste milk from your breasts.

He groans at the way your hand tangles in his hair and he starts to move inside you. “Fuck. You feel so good.” He murmurs against your sternum, turning his head to take your other nipple into his mouth.

You whimper his name, letting him rock you closer to pleasure as he suckles at your breast. “Fuck, you- I can’t describe it.” You admit breathlessly. “You are like a god.”

He chuckles, his breath washing over you, and he grabs your thigh, “you’re a goddess. Fucking - fuck. You’re Venus. I am merely here to worship you.” He declares, his voice is raspy.

It’s intimate, so intimate that it makes your eyes wet with yearning. He feels like he is speaking to your soul, even if it is just the moment. You aren’t used to such soft words and you turn your head to press kisses to his broad shoulder, not wanting him to see you choked up.

He shouldn’t feel like this, like this is right where he should be. You belong to Caracalla and he should still mourn his wife, but the way you take his cock has him groaning your name into your neck as he tries to conceal the way you’re making him feel.

Your body responds to him so easily, making every roll of his hips push you higher. The pants and moans grow steadier every time he pushes deep and the inhale of anticipation when he draws back. The rhythm is one that neither one of you questions, each pushing towards pleasure together. “Fuck.”

He wants you to cum for him, needs to hear and feel it. He grabs your other thigh, pushing it back towards your stomach so you are folded over. He groans your name, kissing along your jaw to press his lips to yours. He slides his tongue into your mouth and drops his hips to grind his pelvis against yours.

Your moan is sealed into your mouth with his lips, or maybe it’s absorbed by him. All you know is that your nails dig into his shoulders as he works himself deep into your cunt. Pressing harder and harder with every roll of his hips. “Oh gods!”

Your cry into his mouth makes him smile against your chin, rocking into you a little faster as you clamp down on his cock. His pelvis and balls are soaked with your release and he hisses when you squeeze him like a vice. “Fuck.” He grunts, eyes closing as he works you through it. He pulls out when you relax beneath him and he rolls over, your body on top of his. “Ride me, empress. I want you to take another wave of pleasure from my body.” He demands, smacking your ass.

Eyes wide, you sit up, your hands on his chest. “I’ve never- never been in charge before.” You admit, even though you would love to do such a thing. “I- help me?” You ask, grinding down on his length and wanting him inside you again.

He suppresses his chuckle at your wide, uncertain eyes, but he loves how you look on top of him and the fact that you haven’t done this before. He reaches down to grip his cock, telling you to lift up. You shift to lift up and he positions his cock so you can sink back down onto him. “Rock your hips.” He commands, wanting to help you ride him.

He feels different from this angle. Bigger. His cock pressing against different parts of your walls and you gasp in pleasure when you roll back down on him. “Gods.” Your eyes close and you lean back, enjoying the way his cock stretches you this way. “You feel even bigger. Like you are right here.” Your hand covers your stomach. “You are in my womb.”

“I will be. I will fill you until it takes.” He promises, his hands gripping your hips. He helps you start to rock and you moan, your mouth falling open and he loves the way your tits bounce as you start to get a rhythm together.

It’s so different, being in charge. If you slow down or grind down harder, Marcus groans and twitches inside you. Like he’s enjoying you using him. Your body moves eagerly, loving the sounds he makes as he digs his fingers into your hips. “Gods, your cock is made for my cunt.”

“That’s it, empress. Take what you want from me. Use me.” He demands, his hand slapping your ass while the other grips your waist. He watches you take your pleasure and he loves the way your chest heaves when you get the angle just right.

You squeal when he slaps your ass again, clenching down around him. He is so commanding, even when he is under you and yet he lets you control him. If you pulled off his cock right now, you know he would let you. It’s freedom, and you’re breathless when you collapse onto his chest to press your lips to his.

He groans, his hand grabbing the back of your neck to keep you close, his tongue sliding against yours. He loves the way you rock back onto him and he wants you to make yourself cum. He needs you to cum again for him.

You lean into the kiss. Continuing to work yourself on his cock. Whining softly when your cunt starts to pulse until you are locking down around him with a cry into his mouth.

He groans when you cum for him again, soaking him, and he wraps his arms around you. He hisses your name and starts to thrust up into you. He can’t hold off any longer as he works himself towards your orgasm. He pushes deep into you, his cock twitching inside you as he starts to paint your walls with his cum.

You turn and press kisses to his jawline and moans softly. “That feels so good.” You murmur, resting your head against his shoulder and feel him riding out his high.

He pants as he closes his eyes, trying to catch his breath. He’s never felt like this before. Like his soul is leaving his body. He caresses your spine, fingers lazily trailing along your skin as he breathes you in.

“Can I stay like this?” You ask softly, content to lay just like you are if he will let you. You reason that having his cock still stuffed inside you is even better than tilting your hips up. “Am I too heavy?”

He shakes his head, “no, not too heavy. You can stay like this.” He says softly, closing his eyes as he enjoys the weight of you on top of him. He feels tired, his eyes still closed as his cock softens inside you.

You don’t realize you fell asleep until you wake up. Still on top of him with his arms secured around you. Holding you in place as he breathes softly underneath you. He’s still sleeping, making you softly turn your head up and watch him. He’s beautiful when he sleeps and you hope that the child you have looks like him.

Marcus wakes up when he feels your stare and he offers you a soft smile, “wore me out.” His chuckles vibrate through you and he sighs, glancing over at the balcony to see the sun is setting. “The Emperor will be wanting your presence.” He says softly, “we must clean up and I’ll leave you to your peace.”

“The emperor is attending a feast tonight.” You hum, knowing that you should probably keep your distance from the general when you are not letting him fill you. “I will be presented and then expected to leave before the festivities begin.” You snort. “There will be an orgy.”

Marcus snorts, “I never understood the appeal.” He confesses, “I like connection. Even with the whores I bedded, I felt connected to them even if only for the night.” He admits before he bites his lip, “do you like your life here or do you miss your home?”

“I miss home.” You want to hope that he will not tell the emperor. He doesn’t like when you admit somewhere else might be better than Rome. “I don’t have many people who will talk to me. Or spend time with me. I’m lonely.” You sigh. “Only to be seen and to bear the emperor's children.” Your father had sent you to marry the younger brother in order to preserve peace for your realm.

Marcus sighs, “I’m sure you do. I miss my village. When I was a boy, my father was killed in war and my mother struggled to survive, to feed us. As soon as I was able, I left to join the army. I wanted to send coin back to my mother but by the time I returned home, she was dead.” He murmurs, brow furrowed because he hasn’t thought about this for so long. “I threw myself into the fight until I met my wife. She was the daughter of a noble and I never imagined I’d be able to ask for her hand, so I fought hard to rise in the ranks until I could ask her father for his blessing. When we married, I was so happy, and she became with child. Then the day of our son’s birth…she died. So did he.” He’s lost in the agony of the memory, swallowing harshly as he tightens his grip on you.

You sigh softly and reach up to caress his cheek. Even though their deaths weren’t recent, you can see the despair on his face. “My prayers to the gods that they are peaceful together in death.” You murmur softly. “You gave yourself to the army and to Rome after that.” You know what it feels like to have nothing to live for, you feel like a prisoner with a decorative chain around your neck. Leaning in, you press your lips to his in a kiss meant to comfort.

He sighs into the kiss, cupping your cheek as he kisses you softly. “And now I give myself to her Empress.” He murmurs, “I shall fetch us some wine.” He says and you nod, shifting off him and he moves off the bed so he can get you a cup of wine.

He moves easily in his own skin, unashamed by his nudity and the body he possesses. He is not as firm as he might have been in his youth, but there is a leanness to him still that makes the broadness of his shoulders and bulk of his muscles incredibly appealing. There is a strength in his frame that Caracalla could never possess. “Do you mind?” You ask softly. “Knowing that your child will be claimed by Rome?”

He pours the wine as he contemplates his answer, “I have no choice. Even if it is not my wish, I cannot say no. As for the child…I am a general. I will die in battle and I would wish for my child to be taken care of. I know this child will be taken care of to the fullest extent.” He confesses, “I can die in peace.”

It’s wise, pragmatic even, but you still feel a sudden wave of sadness thinking about this man falling in battle. “Then I must learn all I can about you.” You murmur softly, smiling when he walks back over and hands the cup to you. “So I can tell him stories about a man that he should admire.”

Marcus offers you a soft smile, appreciating you wanting to tell your child about him. “He can never know that Caracalla is not his father.” Marcus reminds you, “he must be the rightful heir. But if you wish to tell him about your friend, I am willing to share myself with you.” He offers, “but you must tell me more about his mother,”

“That sounds fair.” You smile and take a sip of the wine as you lounge in his bed, completely nude. This is the most relaxed you have been since you have been sent to Rome and you know it is because of him, “I will tell you everything.” You promise.

****

Marcus groans as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him again as sweat glistens on his skin. He grunts, jaw clenched as he rocks into you from behind, his hips hitting your ass so the only noise in the room is slapping skin. He's been fucking you for two months now, spending nearly every night in your bed. Caracalla has entertained himself with his whores and orgies, leaving Marcus to make you scream his name every night.

You collapse down to your elbows, face on the cool sheets as he fucks you through the spasms of pleasure. “Amor, cum for me.” You beg, losing yourself to the moment and slipping up. Calling him an endearment you have kept inside you for weeks now. You spend all day, everyday with Marcus. Falling in love with the general and wishing that you were free to be with him. You feel as if he cares for you, but that just might be the sex that he enjoys.

Your words send him over the edge and he pushes deep as he cums, painting your walls for the umpteenth time. You missed your bleed last month but no one announced a pregnancy, wanting to be sure that you are with child. Marcus is reluctant to have it declared, knowing that his duty will be done and he will be sent away back to his villa, away from you. You are unlike any woman he's ever known. Strong, smart, beautiful, and you are lonely. He senses how isolated you are so he has spent a lot of time with you, discussing his battles, your battles - different in their methods but no less weary - and he has fallen for you. You are not his though, you belong to Caracalla and if he even dared to think about you being his, he would be killed.

Whining in pleasure as he fills you, your legs slide out from under you. Bringing you down to the bed and knowing that he will follow you. You love how close the two of you are, how he loves to touch you and keep touching you. You catch your breath and start to giggle softly, feeling him twitch when your walls clench around him in the aftershocks. “I love how you feel inside me.” You hum, lazy now that your body has been used and satisfied equally.

Marcus follows you, keeping his weight off of you just in case you are with child, and he kisses along your back. “You take me so well.” He murmurs, resting his forehead on your lower neck as he hovers over you. “Do you think…do you think you are with child?”

“I should not say this, but I hope I am not.” You sigh softly. “I have become accustomed to you in my bed and between my thighs. I do not want to give such a pleasure up.”

Marcus pulls out of you and shifts to lay down beside you, “perhaps…perhaps we can continue this. Ask the Emperor if he will allow us to copulate until the babe is born. He may allow us to continue in each other’s company, saying it’s to ensure the baby’s health.” He ponders, reaching out to cup your cheek, “I do not wish to give you up just yet.”

“I do not want to give you up either.” You confess softly, leaning into his touch. “You have become important to me. I….care for you.” It’s dangerous to admit, but you have to tell him that much at least. “I will ask the emperor to continue spending time with you.” You promise.

Marcus knows the request could be easily denied but he wants to continue spending time with you. He nods, shifting to pull you into his chest, burying his nose in your neck. He's gotten lazy, not wanting to train when he could be spending time with you.

****

“Congratulations, empress.” The Hippocrates you had called to the suite beams at you as he packs away his tools and tinctures. “The emperor will be pleased and the empire will drink to the health of your child.” You cover your womb protectively and wonder how Caracalla will take the news. Even though he had demanded this, he could always have a different view now that it is done. “Thank you.”

Caracalla is beaming when you tell him the news, pleased that his plan has worked and he can tell his brother that his child will be the next in line. “If it’s a son.” Geta hums and Caracalla nods, “it will be. A strong boy.” He celebrates by holding a party and you are alone, needing “to rest and protect the baby” in your quarters when Marcus enters, his brow furrowed. “What is the occasion for the orgy?” He asks, not having heard the news yet as he was training with his men all day.

When Marcus comes in, you rush over to him, flinging yourself into his arms and pressing your lips to his. Now truly able to celebrate the baby since his father has come home. “I am carrying your child.” You whisper softly, “your child. Not Caracalla’s.” You bite your lip and reach down to cover your womb. “I do not feel as if this child is his. It belongs to the man I love.”

Marcus’s eyes widen at the news and he pulls back to look down at your hand on your stomach. “Our child.” He murmurs in awe, unable to believe it’s happened despite him spending every night in your bed. He grabs the back of your neck, dragging you to his lips, and he pulls back after several moments to declare “I love you.”

You close your eyes in relief, letting out a small sob. “I love you too, Marcus.” You whisper softly. “In another life, we would be together.” You hate that you are the empress, that you are Caracalla’s wife and not his. “I wish we could change our fate.”

Marcus nods, “me too.” He cups your cheeks and sighs, “I love you, amor.” He murmurs and kisses your forehead, “for now, let us enjoy our time together before I am sent away. Let me worship the mother of my child.” He declares, shifting to kneel down in front of you.

“I will talk to the emperor.” You hadn’t had a chance to talk with him in private before he was rushing off to plan a feast and orgy to celebrate ‘his’ virility. Reaching down, you run your fingers through his dark curls and pray to the gods your babe has those same locks.

Marcus lifts your tunic, exposing your body to his hungry gaze, and he leans in to kiss your lower stomach as you bunch your tunic up under your breasts. His hands caress the back of your legs as he kisses down to your mound, burying his nose in the curls at the apex of your thighs. “Want to taste you.” He murmurs against your skin, shifting so he can slide his tongue through your folds.

Marcus is very talented with his tongue. He has proven that over the past months and you moan in pleasure. He lifts a leg onto his shoulder and you feel so exposed. Like a god being serviced by a mere mortal. He makes everything good. “Marcus.” You pant, closing your eyes briefly before you look down at him on his knees. Wanting to memorize this moment in fear that you might not have it again.

He groans at the tangy taste of your arousal, sliding his tongue through your folds and lapping at your clit like he’s worshiping Venus. He wants to savor every second of being with you before he’s sent away. It could be any second Caracalla decides his job is complete and sends him back to his villa.

His hands hold you in place, keeping you upright while he takes his time to lick through your folds and making you moan his name loudly.

He squeezes your ass just as the doors open and Caracalla strides in, dressed in his robes and taking a moment from the party. “Ah, Acacius. You are taking care of the Empress. Well done on ensuring I have an heir.” Caracalla watches as Marcus doesn’t stop, his tongue lapping at you. “I heard that fucking during pregnancy ensures a boy. I want a son. You will remain here in the palace to make sure I have an heir.” He declares, his cock twitching at the way you moan and Marcus sucks on your clit.

Your eyes find your husband, his face filled with pride and lust. “Yes.” You agree quickly, since it’s exactly what you want. “You need a son, my emperor.” You moan. “He will keep filling me, making sure you get what you need. A strong son.” You bite your lip. “He has served his emperor well and will continue to do so.”

Marcus loves your praise, continuing to ignore Caracalla’s presence as he works you towards your orgasm. He wants to be greedy, to have you like this for as long as he can before he has to leave you. “Keep pleasuring her, Acacius.” Caracalla orders and spins in his heel, wanting to enjoy his evening at the party celebrating his heir. “Keep her cumming.” He shouts back before he shuts the door and leaves you and Marcus together.

You push his head away as soon as the door slams shut and you drop to your knees. Needing to kiss Marcus now that you know that he’s not going to be sent away.

Marcus whines into your mouth in protest but he can't deny you. He cups your cheek and deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth as his other hand grabs your ass to pull you against him, his cock hard under his tunic.

You kiss deeply, thoroughly. Panting into his mouth and gasping for air when you break apart. “I love you.” You moan. “I need you inside me. Here, now.”

He grabs your thighs, lifting you so you are hovering over him as he kneels on the floor. "Take my cock and put me inside you." He demands, holding your weight over his body.

You fumble with his tunic, reaching underneath and pumping his cock before you line him up with your cunt. Moaning when he slowly lowers you down on him. “Fuck, amor.” You whimper, feeling him like it’s the first time all over again. You feel like you’re more sensitive but it just might be from the emotional turmoil.

Marcus inhales deeply when you sink down on him, engulfing him in your wet, hot cunt. "Fuck." He pants against your jaw as you grip his shoulders when he's fully inside you. "I love you." He murmurs against your skin, wanting you to know how he feels.

Your arms are around his shoulders, fingers tangling into his hair as he holds you up in his thighs. “I love you.” You promise him, knowing that even if your body belongs to Caracalla, your heart belongs to him. “You are my one love. Forever.”

“Fuck. I love you. Never thought - never imagined I could ever feel like this again. Fuck, I want you to - to take all of me and cum again.” He demands, starting to work you on his cock.

You moan in agreement, letting him take charge and control your pleasure. He’s so good at it. There’s only been a handful of times you’ve not cum on his cock and that was only because he was so worked up he came too quickly. However he had made sure he had pleasured you with his fingers and tongue afterwards.

He rocks you on his cock, wanting you to soak his cock again, and he grips your thighs. “Fuck, te amo, amor.” He rasps, leaning in to press his lips to your neck, tasting the sweat and salt of your skin.

Your eyes water and you wish for a split second that Caracalla was dead and you could celebrate your love. Holding him close, your walls are already trembling around his cock as he rocks up into you. “Yes.” You moan, loving when he uses his mother’s tongue.

He is lost in the feel of you, his cock twitching inside you as he rocks into you. He imagines for a brief moment, a life where he can be with you. A life together with your child. It's not possible though. The Emperor would have him killed, could still have him killed, and it's a dangerous game that Marcus has gotten involved in.

Your toes push off on marble floors, helping you bounce on his cock and you could stay just like this with him forever. You want to stay like this. “I love you. You are my love, my amor.” You moan in his ear. “I would be Marcus Acacius’s wife.”

Your words are treason but they make his cock twitch inside you, closer to his orgasm. He groans your name, pressing his lips to yours as he rocks a little faster, needing to feel you clamp down on his cock. “You’d be mine. I’d die for you.” He promises, “mine. Mine. Mine.” He growls against your lips.

You both are vowing things to each other that would have you both killed, but you don’t care. His next thrust pushes you over the edge and you cry out into his mouth as your walls soak him in hot waves of your pleasure.

His hand finds your ass, rocking you as you shudder through your orgasm, and he groans, thrusting a few more times before he falls apart. “Fuck. Fuck. Empress.” He pants, cock throbbing as he paints your walls, his hands squeezing you closer to him.

You cling to him, both relieved that he is going to stay beside you for the foreseeable future and desperate to never have him leave you at all. “You are perfect.” You kiss his neck gently, stroking his back over his tunic that he couldn’t be bothered to take off. Both of you are still dressed, but the moment had been perfect regardless.

He snorts, knowing he’s not perfect, but he wants you and he is going to protect you and the baby until his last breath. Caracalla wants him to stay and that is the best thing he can wish for right now. “Let’s get you cleaned up and settled. You need to rest for the baby.” He reminds you and helps you shift off his cock.

Grinning, you look down at him as he climbs to his feet. “You are going to be overprotective from now on?” You ask, already aware of the answer. He will be protective, he will take care of you. You are already in love with the baby in your belly and you feel like he is the same way.

****

"Fuck, amor." Marcus groans as you rock on top of him. Your bump pressing against his stomach as he rests his back on the wall while you ride his cock. Your knees dig into the bed beneath and his hands cup your sensitive breasts. He's been in your bedchamber for the past six months and he falls more in love with you with each passing day. It will surely kill him to leave you when he is ordered to return to war, but he will go. You can never be his. Caracalla will never permit a divorce and he will be killed for treason. He must go after the babe is born.

Caracalla hadn’t spent more than an hour a week with you, carousing and spending every night having an orgy. He claims he is excited for his child, but he only brings you out to brag about his soon to be born son before he leaves you in Marcus’s care. You are scared, because you know how precarious a position you are in. But you can only survive.

"That's it. Take what you want from me. It's yours. I'm yours." He vows, his dark eyes watching you as you bounce on his cock. Your belly is round and heavy with his child. It's something he never imagined having again after he lost his wife. He's addicted to you and he doesn't know how he's going to leave after the baby is born.

“Marcus.” You moan, leaning back and knowing that he will make sure you are comfortable and safe. “My general, my warrior.” You have been thinking about something dangerous, but you can’t think about it when he’s deep inside you. “I love you.”

He caresses your hips, leaning in to take a sensitive nipple between his lips, and he suckles lightly. He has gotten too comfortable being away from the battles the Emperors send him into, but right now, he doesn’t want to die like that. He wants to spend the rest of his life with you at this moment, no one else but you and him. His hand slides across your hip to find your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves to push you over the edge.

Carrying his baby has made you so sensitive to his touch that it only takes a few strokes of his thumb before you cry out. Your body shaking and your hips grinding down while your cunt locks down around his cock and your juices coat him.

He hisses your name as you clamp down around him, his eyes fluttering shut for a few moments as he lets you ride your high, until he’s squeezing your hips and thrusting up into you.

“Cum for me.” You beg softly, burying your face into the side of his neck so you can breathe him in. “I want to feel you inside me. Carry you with me even more.”

He groans, rocking up into you with a hiss as he gets closer to his orgasm. “Fuck. Gonna - fuck. Shit. Empress.” He moans your name as he pushes deep inside your pulsing cunt and he falls apart, painting your walls with his seed as he clenches his eyes shut.

You hum quietly, stroking his neck as he catches his breath. Feeling the baby move slightly and biting your lip. “We need to use your favor in the Senate.” You lean close and whisper the treasonous words into his ear. “Stage a coup. Revolt.” You pull back and look into his eyes seriously. “Kill the emperors.”

Marcus inhales sharply, his head turning so he can look into your eyes to see if you are testing him or if you’re serious. When he sees your eyes, he knows you’re serious and he swallows harshly, “it won’t be easy. Trying to convince the senate without the emperors finding out.” He admits quietly, “and they could find out and kill me.”

“Set the meetings.” You had thought long and hard about it. “I will convince them, I will do the talking. If our plot is found out, Caracalla could not immediately put me to death. Geta would discover the child is not truly his and he will never allow that.” You caress his cheek. “I wish to have you installed to rule as proctor for ‘his’ child.” You know the senate could never find out that the child isn’t Caracalla’s but no one but you and Marcus know this truth besides your husband.

Marcus caresses your spine, knowing that you could risk everything you’ve created, your life, your child, it’s all on the line. “Amor…” He murmurs and you cup his cheek, “I will never be allowed to be my own person. I will never be allowed to love you freely unless you do this.” You tell him and he nods, swallowing harshly, “I’ll get it organized.” He promises, “we will see it done.”

“Thank you, my love.” You lean in and press your lips to his. “I fear for our child raised under Caracalla’s direction.” Even if you are the mother, the fact that the baby would be proclaimed the emperor’s heir would mean he would be guided by your childish and evil husband. “I want him to grow up to be like his father.”

Marcus caresses your cheek, knowing there is no choice. If he looks back, he knows that he had to make this choice at some point. He never truly wanted to let you or his child go. The next morning, he dresses for court and decides to start with the hardest senator to convince, Brutus. A man who struggled to watch the Emperors rule but had loyalty to Rome. Marcus approaches him under the guise of talk of war, and Brutus nods, wandering off into a quiet corner of the senate to speak. “I fear we cannot speak in these quarters. Come to my villa, we can speak freely.” Marcus says and Brutus nods, unaware that you will be meeting with the men.

You pace, nervous about what you should say, would say. This is the most dangerous undertaking you have ever attempted. Not even trying to run away from your fate was as dangerous as this. You are trying to change your fate. The senators could be allies, or they could stab you in the back.

Brutus enters the room with Marcus, his head held high but his eyes widen when he sees the Empress standing there, her bump protruding beneath her tunic. “Empress.” He greets you, bowing his head.

“Brutus.” You greet him cautiously, but with a gracious smile on your face as you rub the swell of your stomach, bringing his eyes down to the baby. You will leverage the child in your womb. For your freedom, and perhaps Rome’s as well. “I trust you are well?” You ask kindly. “Please sit. The wine has been especially good lately.” It’s been watered down for your use, but you nod to Marcus to pour the senator a cup. “I hope you do not mind the subterfuge, I needed to speak with you and did not wish to summon you myself.”

Marcus pours the cup of wine and hands it to Brutus who nods, thanking Marcus, before his attention turns back to you. "I trust you are well, that the future Emperor is well?" He asks, and you nod in response, "he is lively. Due any day now." You declare and Marcus clears his throat, "the heir is the reason why we called you here.”

You wait for Brutus to turn back to you curiously, setting his cup down. You take a deep breath and caress your stomach. “It is no secret that unrest in Rome is at an all time high.” You murmur softly. “People are starving and while General Acacious has not been sent off on another expensive and bloody campaign, he will be soon.” You pause and sigh. “I fear for the future of Rome, of my son’s legacy that he will inherit.”

Brutus looks at Marcus who stands there, spine straight and steely eyed as your treasonous words are aired. Brutus could go tell the Emperors and you would be killed as soon as the babe is born, Marcus would be hanged the next day. However, Brutus doesn't run off. He nods, setting his cup down, "it is true that the empire is on a precipice. It could be the fall of Rome or her glory continues. The Emperors are driven by lust and greed. Their actions are selfish and make the lowest Roman anxious for change. We will fall if we allow the Emperors to continue down this path."

“There is another solution.” You suggest, rubbing your stomach again. “In my belly lies the next emperor of Rome. Ready to be guided by wise and cautious men.” Your eyes slide over to Marcus briefly. “Men who know the true cost of war and would be able to teach our emperor those lessons without it harming Rome’s people.” You look back at Brutus. “Men such as our senators, you, nurturing a leader that will take Rome to an even greater height.”

Brutus frowns, looking over at Marcus, knowing that the man who will assist in raising the young Emperor will be him. "And how would we remove our problem?" Brutus asks, eyebrows raised.

"I say we speak to the senators...establish a coup. My husband and brother-in-law would never see it coming." You say and Brutus takes a gulp of his wine before he says, "I will start speaking to the senators tomorrow."

“I hope that we can count on your discretion.” You add, pushing out of your seat and moving over to the senator. “We are on the cusp of change.” You murmur softly. “If it is the ruin of Rome or the brightness of her future, I leave that to your hands.”

Brutus nods, "if this gets out, it will be death for us all. We won't risk it." The senator promises and he looks over at Marcus, "you shall be the one who the senate turns to?" He asks and Marcus nods, making Brutus smile. "very well. I will do what needs to be done."

You nod to the senator when he leaves, Marcus walking out with him and you start to pace. Wondering if you have just signed your death papers or if you will be successful.

****

The senate is abuzz with chatter until Caracalla and Geta enter the chamber. The senators stand straighter and Marcus stands there, dressed in his official robes with the golden laurel wreath shining. He looks regal and the Emperors slosh wine across the marble floor as they greet the senators with wide grins. Brutus looks over at his fellow senators, his hand resting on his dagger. "Emperors." He greets them, walking towards them, and his eyes meet Marcus's for a moment. "The senate and I have been in discussions about the future of Rome." He declares and Geta hums, "and what a wonderful future it will be."

Marcus sighs, "we aren't so sure. Romans are starving, you tax them more and more every day to fund your wars and your lavish lifestyle." Marcus declares and Caracalla spins around, his eyes narrowed at the accusations, "you dare to spit these treasonous words?" He demands and Marcus shakes his head, "you are draining Rome dry. Her empire will be no more." He says louder and the senators nod while Brutus steps forward, "your leadership has driven Rome to the edge and we want to save our empire before it falls." Brutus declares and he steps up behind Geta while Marcus moves towards Caracalla. It happens in a flash, the daggers pulled out and embedded in the lower backs of the Emperors who cry out, cups of wine falling to the floor. The other senators rush forward, daggers in their hands as they each take a turn stabbing the emperors until blood runs along the marbled floors.

Your cry from your chamber is loud and pained, servants rushing and whispering through the halls. The Hippocrates has been summoned and the labor seems to be quick. The new heir to the throne of Rome is insistent on being born today. It takes your mind off of your worries. Your waters had broken almost as soon as Marcus had left to join the senators. You know that they had planned to kill your husband and his brother today, but the pains had taken over all thoughts so you had not been able to fret over the hours as they passed.

Blood covers the floor of the senate as Caracalla and Geta lay dead, blood pouring from their mouths. It turns out they betrayed a lot of senators, made promises they couldn’t keep. The senators didn’t take a lot of convincing to remove them from power. “It is done.” Brutus declares, “a new emperor shall be born any moment but we need someone in the interim. An emperor who will represent us, save Rome and her people from ruin. I nominate General Marcus Acacius.” Brutus declares and Marcus’s eyes widen. He didn’t expect to be nominated, feeling that Brutus would want to take control. “I second that nomination.” Drusus announces and one by one, the senate declares Marcus to be the next emperor. The General is speechless, knowing he could easily be taken down like Caracalla and Geta, but this means he gets to have you. “I accept. I will serve as Emperor for all, we will make Rome prosperous and safe.” He promises as a servant rushes in to announce, “the empress is in labor.” Marcus’s eyes widen and he rushes from the senate, running through the marbled halls in his mission to get to you. He doesn’t care that men shouldn’t be in the birthing room as he pushes through and stumbles to your bedside. “Amor. I’m here, I’m here.” He promises, blood still on his hands as he reaches for yours.

“Is it done?” You gasp out, scared for a brief moment that Marcus had been injured, but he would not have been able to come to your side if the plot had been foiled. “It is.” He murmurs, leaning down and pressing his lips to your forehead. You don’t even care that the servants can see, that the rumors will spread across Rome of your relationship with the General. He ignores the Hippocrates’s complaints about him being there as another pain rips through you and you scream, fingers crushing his own hand until the pain passes and you are panting for air. Your child is safe. Boy or girl, they will be free of your husband’s influence. “We need-” you gasp. “A ruler until the baby is older.”

"The senate has voted. They have chosen me to be Emperor until the child is old enough." He confesses, "I did not want to become Emperor but I want to save Rome and her people from destitution." He admits just as another pain causes you to grip his hand.

Your hiss is low and almost animalistic, the pains feeling like you are being ripped in two, but you know that it is natural. Surprised that the senate had voted for Marcus, you can’t help but be pleased by that outcome. It would ensure that you do not have to be apart. He will have a large role in raising your child together. “The babe is coming.” The Hippocrates tells you from between your legs, frowning at Marcus as he looks down to see the head. “You must push, empress. As hard as you can.”

Marcus is suddenly taken back to the moment when his wife was laboring and after the silence that lingered in the air when the boy was born sleeping, he remembers his wife's cry of agony until she started convulsing. His grip on your hand tightens as his heart pounds, terrified that he is going to lose you in the same way.

Gritting your teeth, nodding as you sit up and start to scream as you bear down as hard as you can. Sweat is pouring off of you and for a moment, you want to give up and tell them that you cannot do it. The pressure on your hand makes you look up. Seeing the horror on Marcus’s face, you know that he is scared for you. For the baby. Closing your eyes, you push again, feeling the pressure suddenly release and hearing the Hippocrates exclaim happily, “a boy!”

Marcus is shaking when he hears the babe cry out and he knows he's alive. He looks at you, wanting to see if you are okay as the hippocrates cradles the crying baby who has a mop of black hair.

You hear the hushed whispers, but you don’t care. You don’t care if all of Rome knows that the baby that will one day be Emperor is Marcus’s. The Hippocrates cleans the baby up while the servants start to massage your stomach, making you wince in pain but it’s all forgotten when the babe is placed into your arms. Making you cry happy tears as you kiss his head softly.

Marcus stares down at the babe in your arms, his cries echoing in the room, and Marcus falls instantly in love. His son. He will never allow harm to come to the boy, and he will claim him as his. He is Emperor now, he can do as he wishes in regards to his personal life. He wishes to marry you and claim the child as his. “I love you.” Marcus declares, uncaring of anyone else in the room, and he leans in to kiss the forehead of the crying baby. “My son.” He whispers, wanting him to know how much he already adores him.

You beam as you look at Marcus and your son. The future is far brighter now that your love has done the impossible. He and the senate have toppled the emperors and restored order without needless bloodshed. “I love you too.” You promise, leaning forward and kissing him boldly. “Both of us do, my emperor.”

****

Marcus wraps his arm around your waist, the golden laurel on his head matches yours as you stand on the balcony. “Do you, Maximis Acacius, vow to dedicate your life to the Roman Empire and her people?” Brutus asks, his hair now greying like Marcus’s. “I do.” Maximus vows, his head nodding. Marcus is proud of his son who he has trained to be the emperor. He claimed him as his son after he was sworn in as emperor and the empire celebrated having a new emperor with a son to take over. Since that day, you and Marcus have had 3 more children who stand beside you, proud of their brother who is taking his rightful place.

You look out over the crowd, a smile on your face bright and proud. You have been incredibly lucky, Marcus has been a wonderful emperor. Rome has flourished under his care and now he willingly turns the reins over to Maximus like he had planned when he was born. “I love you.” You murmur as the crowd roars in celebration of the new emperor.

Marcus turns to look at you, older but no less beautiful. You are his world - you and the children. He leans in to nudge his nose against yours, “I love you.” He promises, pressing a soft kiss to your mouth. His entire world has changed thanks to Caracalla’s mad idea to have another man conceive the heir to Rome. In the end, Marcus is the one who won with his son as emperor and the empress as his uxor.

#pedro pascal #marcus acacius #marcus acacias x reader #marcus acacius x f!reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius smut #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius imagine #gladiator 2

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absurdthirst · 5 months ago

Text

Ordinatio {Marcus Acacius x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 15.4k

Warnings: Political intrigue, force/arranged marriage, mentions of infertility, vaginal fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex, breast play, nipple biting, riding, talks of family planning, pull out game, attempted theft, brutal attack, Marcus going feral, mentions of pregnancy, betrayal, gladiatorial violence

Comments: Forced to marry general Marcus Acacius, you are ordered by your emperors to spy on him in order to make sure that he is not indulging in traitorous acts. Quickly falling for the war roughened solider, you must risk the wrath of the Emperors in order to possibly have a future with him.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Marcus Acacius MasterList ||

Swallowing harshly, you wait for the carriage to stop in front of the palace that towers over the city below on Palatine Hill. The shuffle of the Praetorian guards always makes you nervous, they answer only to the emperor and would kill anyone they deem a threat. It’s nerve wracking to be summoned so late at night that the torches that normally light the streets were burned out and the silence makes echoes through the darkness. Your cloak covers your hair, hastily fashioned when your household was disturbed merely an hour ago. Just the order that you were to appear before Geta and Caracalla as soon as you dress. The carriage had been waiting outside and your servant was pushed away when she tried to join you. Leaving you alone with the guards to travel just outside the city. Everything looks ominous at night, maybe it’s because your late husband so often spoke of the rot beneath the surface, but you still shiver. Jumping slightly when the door opens and you are helped out and directed to follow the flowing cape of the guard into the large palace.

You are escorted through the halls until you enter a room to the side of the court, the fires burning and casting shadows on the marbled walls. You stand there, two guards on either side of the door, and you are there for several moments until the Emperors both stride in and you bow your head, heart thumping as you await the reason why you’ve been brought here in the middle of the night.

You shiver when you see the two most powerful men in all of Rome. Uneasy by their almost manic expressions as Geta practically giggles. “This will be perfect, Caracalla.” He coos, stepping unreasonably close to you and gripping your chin so he can examine your face. “What do you think?”

“She will be perfect.” Caracalla giggles, eyes manic and they inspect you, dragging up and down your body. “He will not be able to resist her once she is in his possession.” You frown, not liking where this could be going. “You are to marry General Marcus Acacius.” Geta declares and claps, you resist the urge to pull your chin from the Emperor’s grip. You open your mouth before you think better of it, allowing the Emperor to continue, “you’ll marry him and report back to us any conversations or exchanges he has with anyone in the Senate or the army.” Geta orders and you cannot withhold your tongue, “marry the General to spy on him?” You ask and Caracalla giggles, “yes.” Geta sighs, “your late husband was a good man. Misguided in his views to an extent but we know he would’ve married a good woman. You are still young, it is sad to see you widowed.” You don’t buy their false concern for your being. “And the General?” You question softly and Geta continues, “we fear the General has become too…influential in court and in the Senate. We wish to discover if he has plans to establish a coup. We wish to avoid killing our General if we can. Perhaps you could…influence him to withhold any plans of attack.” Geta hums and Caracalla smirks, “with your cunt.” Your chin is finally released and you offer them a stiff smile, “the General is not a stupid man, he would recognize the ruse.” You say, knowing you’ll be killed if you refuse. No one denies the Emperor of Rome.

“He will not if we order the marriage. He still mourns his wife and child. Perhaps giving him something outside of war will mellow him from any unwanted…advances to the palace.” Caracalla raises his eyebrows, “do you not think you are up to the task?” He dares you and you swallow, “I- I will not disappoint you.” You promise, praying the idea fades with the sunrise and you can continue living in your villa without need for a husband. “Excellent. We shall inform the General of your wish to marry once the sun has risen. You may go.” Geta dismisses you with a wave of his hand. “Yes, Emperor.” You bow your head and back towards the door until they say your name, “fail us and you will be fed to the lions.” Geta warns and Caracalla’s shrieks of delight echo off the marbled walls. You nod, bowing your head again and you rush out the room once the guards open the doors. You have to make a plan to survive, to escape from under the thumb of the Emperor.

Marcus sighs as he adjusts the cuff around his wrist. It’s elaborate and unnecessary. Just like the laurel wreath he wears in his hair. The trappings of Rome had once held appeal when he was younger, brasher. When his wife was here to greet him with a lusty kiss and promises of pleasures far beyond what he had imagined while laying in his cold tent outside the battlefields. Those dreams had long since been buried with her and the child she had suffered to bring into the world only to be lifeless when he slipped from her womb. Leaving him alone to focus on war and follow orders. Orders that he is increasingly uneasy with, the regrets of battle following him and the weariness of the continuous fight weighing on him. Roman conquests need to be countered with prudence, allowing the people to flourish in other parts of the realm instead of just the grandiose of the capital. He taps his hand on his knee as he waits, looking out over the olive trees in the gardens below and he wonders what war the emperors have decided to wage now, the senate unwilling or unable to keep them in check.

“Ah General Acacius, thank you for joining us.” Geta crows as he swaggers into the room, Caracalla’s eyes manic and a grin on his face as he approaches Marcus. “Emperors.” He bows his head after he stands up, the laurel flashing in the sunlight coming through the linens covering the balcony. “So glad you could come on such short notice. We have some wonderful news to share.” Caracalla smirks and Geta continues by saying your name. “She is the widow of Senator Gracchus?” Marcus tilts his head, recognizing your name and he knows you from events thrown in the palace. “Yes. She is young, widowed at such a young age with no father to oversee her. She must marry again. And she will marry you.” Geta declares like it’s an honor.

Marcus pauses, his jaw tightening slightly and he clasps his hands together in front of his robes. “That is…..a great honor.” He says stiffly, immediately opposed to the idea, but he has to tread carefully with the emperors. They are impetuous at the best of times and have never learned how to accept rejection. Why would they have to when the world bows to their whims? “I fear that I would be unable to provide for a wife of such a status.” He adds, making it actually sound as if he has regret. “I spend so much time away from Rome, fighting for my emperors.” He sighs. “I fear that the young widow would not be happy with a husband such as I. Perhaps one closer to the senate might be more suitable?”

“She does not wish to have another senator husband. She wants protector. Someone who can provide for her in ways other than coin. She expressly wishes for a gladiator and you are our most prized fighter. You are worthy of a high bred woman like her. Consider this a reward for your loyalty to Rome.” Geta insists, not letting Marcus push off the marriage. You must marry him. “A union like this will bring our fighters good spirit so they win our battles. Knowing they too could possess such a woman would motivate them to fight harder. The people want to see their General happy and we-” Geta gestures between him and Caracalla, “wish to award our greatest fighter with a grand prize. She is self sufficient, running her late husband’s household which we will assign to his brother as he had no direct heir. She will ensure your home is cared for and warm your cock at night.”

There is no way that he can reject the woman without offending the emperors. It seems as if he has no choice right now but to accept this. “You honor me.” He bows slowly, seething inside. He doesn’t know you, he doesn’t want to know you. He has no need for a wife and can have all the companionship he desires if he just wants his cock warmed.

A horse neighs as a soldier brings news from the palace and you scramble when your servant brings you the scroll. You quickly unroll it, praying to the gods that you have been released from your duty and your shoulders drop when you read that you are to marry Acacius in two days time. Your villa will be transferred to the hands of your brother in law, Albus, as you are to move into the General’s villa. You fall into your chair as you reread the scroll. It’s over. You must marry and you are to be under the control of the Emperors. You could run, try to escape into the countryside but you know they would find you. No one escapes Rome. No matter how far you go, you will be found. You swallow harshly, tears stinging in your eyes, and you look up when Antonia enters, “is everything okay, matronae?” She asks and you nod, sniffing to control your emotions. “I wish for you to pack my things, I am to be wed to General Marcus Acacius. I will need to relocate to his residence after we are wed in two days' time.” You declare and her eyes widen, knowing of no existing relationship between you and the General. “Ye-yes, matronae.” She nods and rushes off, leaving you to wallow in your unfortunate luck.

“I will not do it!” The crockery shatters against the marble walls of the villa. The servant who had just brought the meal scurrying out of the room in order to avoid Marcus’s wrath. His chest heaves as he looks at the ruined meal, food scattered and his situation still just as hopeless as it had been moments before. “Fuck.” He hisses, dropping back onto the chair and reaching for the cup of wine that he hopes will drown his sorrow. He will be married in two days’ time. Another wife to bear his name and his children. He scoffs to himself and puts the wine to his lips. You had not born Gracchus any children so perhaps you are barren. It would be the gods favoring him if you were. He has no desire to have children, to leave a legacy behind. The pride he had for Rome had slowly eroded away over the years and campaigns, leaving him with a hollowness he can never tell anyone about. “Fuck.” He slams the cup down and rubs his hand over his face. The villa will be ready when you arrive, the servants already informed, he just needs to accept it himself.

You bid goodbye to the servants that you’ve overseen since you arrived at your late husband’s villa. They look sad to see you go and you take that as a compliment. You sigh and only Antonia follows you as you are helped into the quadriga as you depart for the palace. Your hair styled by your servant and the red veil placed over your head as you ride to your fate. The General will be waiting for his bride and you pray you don’t disappoint him. You’ve seen glimpses of him but you’ve never been able to properly look upon the man. “All will be well.” Antonia promises as she reaches for your hand to squeeze it. “I hope so.” You whisper, knowing this will be a life or death situation for you. When you arrive at the palace, you are helped out of the carriage and escorted up the stairs to the doors to the grand hall. You glance around, “am I not allowed to see my intended before we wed?” You ask the guard who doesn’t say a word. You swallow harshly and Antonia rubs your arm before she checks your long tunic, ensuring you are a beautiful bride. “Thank you, Antonia.” You murmur and she offers you a sweet smile, “I will be with you with every step, matronae.” She promises and you squeeze her hand and take a deep breath just as the doors open to reveal a grand hall full of the members of the court and Senate. The Emperors standing on the balcony with what seems like the entire Roman Empire watching below as General Marcus Acacius stands there dressed in white with a golden laurel atop his head.

Of course Geta and Caracalla have turned this into an ostentatious event. He would have preferred something intimate, or nothing at all. However, the emperors had other plans and invited the entire senate to witness the marriage. Marcus doesn’t flinch, standing tall and watching as you walk towards him. The red veil covers your face and he can make out your features as you move closer. You are a beautiful woman, but he’s never paid much attention to another man’s wife. Now you will become his wife.

You inhale deeply as you take a step up to the balcony and the General holds his hand out to help you. You thank him softly and the Emperors grin. Marriage is usually informal, decided upon between families and within the home but the Emperors planned for a spectacle. “We welcome you here to witness the marriage of a great Roman General, Marcus Acacius. He is to wed the widow of Senator Gracchus.” Geta announces and Marcus releases your hand. The marriage scroll is laid out on the table and you have no dowry. Lacking a father along with your late husband accepting your dowry, you have nothing to give but yourself. A fact that the general doesn’t seem to care about. The crowd cheers and the court claps, making you feel more like you’re about to become Empress than the general’s wife. “Let us witness their union. A gift from Rome to her greatest warrior.” Geta declares and the crowd cheer, making your hands shake slightly. “Now, join hands.” He orders and you nod, joining your shaky hands with Acacius who frowns as he grips your hands in his large ones.

Marcus doesn’t like the idea of you being a gift. Not caring for the implication you are being forced, even if both of you are. The whims of the emperors must be met. Your hand is small in his, soft. You are a woman of nobility, you are not used to rough men. That is what he is, despite the finery of his costume. He remembers a different wedding, a lifetime ago in the small parlor of his late wife’s house. He had been so excited then, and now he is hesitating to say the words that are expected. “Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia.” He murmurs, his voice low and clear.

You swallow harshly, your throat dry as the Emperors look to you expectedly. You look at

Acacius and lick your lips. Caracalla shifts, his eyes narrowing slightly and you manage to choke out “ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia,” to seal yourself in marriage to the general. The Emperors grin and you know there’s no escaping this fate. Your union must be sealed with a kiss so you let go of Marcus’s hands and wait for him to lift your veil.

Marcus stares at you. Almost surprised to find that you are so young. He feels much older compared to your youthful beauty and he leans in, pressing his lips to yours in a brief kiss while everyone around erupts into cheers. The marriage contract will still need to be signed, but the two of you are married in the eyes of Rome.

The cheers roar in your ears but you blank it out, focused on the rough looking man in front of you who is now your husband. The Emperor snaps his fingers and his servant carries over the papyrus that will be the marriage contract between you and General Acacius. “Please sign to join in matrimony with your intended.” Greta orders you and you swallow, picking up the pen to sign your name on the marriage contract. Your hand shakes and you hesitate, not wanting to marry the man beside you but you have no choice. Caracalla stares at you, a menacing look on his face that has you scribbling your name in fear of the consequences of not marrying the General. You look up to see the grin of glee on the Emperor’s face and you stand up, handing the pen to Marcus.

Sighing softly, Marcus leans over and scribbles his name beside yours. Making the marriage contract legal and binding. You are now his wife in truth. “Excellent!” Geta claps his hands together. “Now we will slaughter a dozen pigs, sacrificing them to the gods for a blessed union!” It’s excessive and disgustingly wasteful, making Marcus curl his lip slightly. The animals would not feed anyone, and people in Rome were buckling under the expense of war.

You want to suggest a cake for Jupiter but you will not argue with the Emperors. You swallow harshly and the Emperors clap, approaching the balcony edge to declare the union. The crowd cheers, “feliciter!” and the Emperors spin around to both cheer, “let us feast.” You look at Marcus whose jaw is clenched and you bite your inner cheek, imagining he is not pleased with you, you are not young enough, pure enough. You have no dowry to provide. Perhaps you’re not pretty enough for him. Lacking in all aspects. You don’t have time to dwell on it when Antonia comes for you to prepare you for the feast. You look at Marcus as you are taken away and he nods, his laurel shining like he’s Mars himself standing there.

He has a wife. A woman that he knows nothing about is now under his care and carrying his name. He receives the congratulations of the Senate, aware that they are all just as confused as he is by the speed and celebration of the events. Especially when neither he nor you look particularly happy. Marcus had noticed how nervous you had seemed and had wondered if it was because of the emperor’s attentions or if you did not care to be under a man’s thumb again. He is aware of the way the two most powerful men are carefully watching him as he shakes hands with the senators, keeping his conversations brief because he knows Geta and Caracalla would rather be feasting than talking. They love to drink and carouse, and he hopes that the wedding feast they have prepared will not turn into the orgies they are becoming known for.

Antonia removes your veil and restyles your hair for the reception. She reaches into the pocket for the bottle of perfume oil, rubbing it into your skin to refresh you and you exhale shakily, realizing you are married once again. “I hope he is not cruel.” You confess to Antonia who shakes her head, “I spoke with one of his house servants, he is strict but does not hit them. I pray to the gods he treats his wife the same.” She whispers, knowing that most nobles would smack her for speaking as she does but you request her candid nature. “Very well, let’s return and feast. I am anxious for wine to calm my nerves.” You confess and Antonia nods, escorting you to the hall where the feast is being laid out for the guests.

Marcus has not yet sat down. Always finding it rude when a man would put his own comfort before that of his wife. While training with him, he had heard stories of Maximus’s devotion to the woman he had loved, the care in which he had treated her when she was alive before Commodus had her brutally murdered. He had treated his first wife the same way and had been rewarded with the loyalty and love that he had cherished when he was away. Eyes turn towards you when you arrive and Marcus is once again struck by your beauty, your slight apprehension as you look around for him and the surprise that he is not already feasting.

Antonia escorts you to the table where your husband sits alongside the Emperors who are gulping down wine like it’s going to evaporate at any moment. Antonia bows her head and rushes off to the servants area, watching you while Marcus pulls your chair out and gestures for you to sit. “Thank you.” You murmur, taking your seat and he sits down beside you, his posture stiff as you look at the food on display. “My Emperors have been most generous in their hosting of our union.” You declare to Marcus so Geta and Caracalla hear you, wanting to ensure they are in good spirits so you can leave the feast earlier than expected.

“Yes.” Marcus finds it to be a lavish expense that is completely unnecessary, but so many of the Emperor’s decisions cost the people of Rome. “The excess is very abundant.” He picks up the cup of wine that is at his plate and offers it up in a toast. “To Rome and her glory.” He offers. “And our Emperors that make it so.”

“To Rome and her glory.” You toast and Caracalla giggles, holding up his golden goblet. “And your Emperors.” He adds with raised eyebrows. “And her Emperors.” You declare with a stiff smile. You know you are playing a dangerous game with the manic leaders. Any moment they could change their mind and have you killed. You doubt you’ll be able to report anything on the general. He seems reserved and only speaks when he feels he has something of substance to add. He doesn’t speak at all while you enjoy the meats, cheeses, and fruits on display in front of you. You gesture for another cup of wine when Caracalla tuts, “you really shouldn’t drink so much. It’s unbecoming of the bride to be drunk when she takes her husband’s cock for the first time.”

Marcus’s brow arches up, wondering why the emperor is so invested in this marriage being consummated. Your fingers pull back from the cup as if you are being rebuked and the servant pulls the carafe of wine away, but Marcus turns around to take it himself, refilling your cup. “There is no celebration without wine.” He reminds them, refilling his own cup as well. “She has been a wife before, she knows what is expected of her.” The truth is, he has no intention of bedding you tonight, he doesn’t know you and he feels as if you don’t want him. This is a marriage that was forced on both of you by the whims of madmen.

Your eyebrows raise slightly at the defiance shown by Marcus. Something that would’ve gotten him killed if he were of a lower rank. Geta stares as Marcus takes a sip of wine and you follow your husband, taking a gulp as the Emperor tilts his head. It’s Caracalla that breaks the tension by throwing his head back and laughing, “this is true. She is no virgin. She has been trained and therefore should satisfy our great general before he has to venture off to claim more land for Rome and her people.” The Emperor grins and raises his goblet towards you. You offer him a stiff smile and glance around the room at the court and senate feasting while the people of Rome suffer for their gluttony. The feast continues with Geta and Caracalla standing up to mingle around the room, wanting to boast about their perfect match. “Shall we return to your villa? I am certain you wish to bed me and get some rest after such an arduous day.” You ask your husband softly.

He nods, figuring that he could speak with you in private without guards or servants around. It is rare to be able to speak freely. “Your possessions arrived earlier today and my servants unpacked them, but I am sure you wish to have things set up to your liking.” He murmurs as he stands up and reaches for your hand. “Do you have many servants coming with you?”

“Just one. Antonia. The others were my late - were Gracchus. They belong to his brother now.” You reveal and he nods as you take his hand. It’s calloused and engulfs yours, making you apprehensive that such a strong man could easily break you. You approach the Emperors and bow your head as your husband announces your departure.

Geta chuckles and nods. “Eager to fill her.” He claps Marcus’s shoulder and motions for the two of you to leave. “I do not blame you for wanting to feel the clutch of her cunt around your cock. The spoils of your latest conquest.” His shrill laughter grates on the general’s ears and he doesn’t do more than simply nod. “We have much to do.” He agrees.

Marcus escorts you through the bustling hall, Antonia and his own men on your trail as he takes you to the carriage that is waiting to bring you to his villa. Marcus helps you up into the carriage and you settle in to watch the city pass by on your silent journey to his villa. “I know that neither of us wanted to be wed but we must do what is required of us so we do not endure the wrath of the emperors. I wish for you to bed me tonight. To consummate the marriage as I do not trust that the Emperors do not have eyes watching our moves. If we fail to indulge them in our union, we will suffer.” You whisper, keeping your face turned away from your husband.

Marcus snorts softly and sighs. “I do not rape on a battlefield and I would not do so in my own bed.” He tells you. “We can send the servants away and say that we have fulfilled our marriage duties.” He knows you are uneasy so he doesn’t touch you. “I will not take a woman by force or coercion.”

You turn to look at him, his face flickered with each lamppost you pass, and you are surprised. Most men would have accepted your offer to have a warm cunt to spill inside without any care to how you feel or what you wish. “Thank you.” You whisper, knowing in that moment that the stories of the brutal warrior that fights for Rome has not returned to her streets. The man beside you is slow in his movements and you realize that he’s trying not to spook you. “I am no stranger to married life and I have heard that you were married too. I am sorry for the loss of your wife and child. I cannot - I cannot imagine-” You reach for his hand, “I lost my husband but I did not love him. My father arranged the marriage to guarantee his connections to the senate and we never were blessed with children. He was older, I was his third wife after his previous wives died from disease and a snake bite. He was unlucky and I do miss his companionship but I never loved him.” You confess, wanting your husband to know your history.

“Then you have my deepest sympathies that your second marriage is also not of your choosing.” Marcus looks down at your smaller hand in his and there is a moment where his heart jolts. You are soft and sweet and deserve much more than him. “My uxor- we loved each other very much. She was everything to me.” He admits. “I had thought to never marry again after burying her and our son.”

You squeeze his hand, “I’m sorry that you’ve been pushed into this but I want you to know that I would never try to take her place. This is an arrangement forced upon us. Your wife will be your true love. I am here to help with your household and provide you with a confidant if that is what you wish for.”

“You are a beautiful and youthful woman.” He murmurs honestly. “You won’t want to find pleasure?” He asks, wanting there to be honestly between both of you if this union is to be successful in the eyes of the Emperors. “What do you want out of this arrangement?”

“I want freedom. I have been running the household for a year and I wish to have my freedom, to not be under the control of my husband’s whims. I will provide for you a stable household and in return, I want to spend my time indulging in painting and needlework. My hobbies.” You confess, “and for pleasure…I have never known such a thing other than from my own hand.” You admit, “you cannot yearn for what you have not experienced.”

Marcus is stunned that you have never known pleasure. He would be lying if he did not immediately think to offer to show you pleasure. He could give it to you, he knows that. Even the whores that he sometimes uses that follows the army find pleasure with him. “I am gone from the city much of the time.” He reminds you. “The household is more yours than mine. The servants will do what you tell them to. Your time is yours to decide how to spend it.”

You nod, letting go of his hand, “thank you. Then we are in agreement. Our union will be one of convenience and to satisfy the whims of the Emperors. I will not sully your name by seeking pleasure from others.” You promise, “and I understand if you find your pleasure while you are away.” You’re a pragmatic woman, you know men need to find their pleasure.

“That will not happen.” Marcus admits. “It would be dishonorable to take another woman to my bed while you are my uxor.” He has a code that he follows. Even if he did not want to be married, he will not tarnish his reputation by seeking pleasure somewhere else. “I have a hand.”

You frown, knowing that most men would take your invitation and find the first whore to bury himself in. "Very well. We shall live our lives...together but separated." You declare just as you arrive at Villa Acacius. Marcus opens the door and holds out his hand, helping you out and you look up at your new home. It's not as grand as the Senator's home but it is beautiful. You enter the courtyard and smile at the servants awaiting your arrival.

Marcus normally allows the servants to run his household, not carrying much about the schedule of things as long as the place is clean. Now you might change things so he leads you over to them. “This is your new matronae, my uxor.” He introduces you. “She will oversee your work and any changes she wishes to make are to be treated as if they came from me.” He orders.

The servants nod, greeting you and some are more enthusiastic than others. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I want to observe during my first days here and then I will discuss what I’d like to change with input from you all on what you consider to be best.” You declare and some are shocked that you are considering their opinions. “My job begins tomorrow. For now, I’d like to retire to our rooms.” You declare and Antonia steps from behind you, “this is Antonia, my handmaid. She will be continuing her duties by my side.” You announce and the staff nod.

Marcus is pleased with the way that the introductions went and he turns around to stride off towards his room. He knows that you will have to sleep there, with him, but he needs a moment to change out of the cumbersome robes he had worn to get married in. Preferring a plainer, softer tunic when he is home.

You watch him go and Antonia is speaking with the women who give her a briefing on your new home. Antonia nods and turns back towards you, “let us get you ready for bed, matronae.” She says and you follow her to the room near where Marcus is changing. The room along from there is the bedchamber and you close your eyes as Antonia takes your hair out of its style to allow you to relax and you’re soon wearing a thin tunic, ready for bed. “I hope he treats you well, matronae.” She murmurs and squeezes your hand before she leaves you. You inhale shakily and enter the room you will be sharing with the general to find him standing there, shoulders broad in the thin tunic and he is looking to the streets below. “All is well?” You ask, letting him know of your presence.

Marcus turns and is struck by your beauty as he sees you in the simple tunics and your hair down. The jewelry is gone and you look like you are much younger than your years. It makes him feel older all of a sudden and he wonders again why the emperors would give you to him. “As well as can be expected.” He answers, watching as you look towards the bed warily as if you expect him to break his promise from earlier and throw you down on it. “I will sleep on the floor.” He assures you, making you drown. “That is not- it’s your bed.” You protest and Marcus snorts. “I have spent many nights sleeping on a rocky ground without a blanket.” He reminds you. “A floor with cushions will be a luxury.” He shrugs. “I wish to put you at ease.” He admits. “I will not take what is not offered, and you have no reason to offer if you find no pleasure in fucking.”

You stare at him and sigh, “I do not wish to cast my husband from his bed. We are well aware of the sexual act and what it takes to copulate. We can be adults and share a bed so you do not wake with an aching back.” You announce as you walk over to the bed. “I am weary. It’s been a long day. Get in bed and sleep, Marcus.” You order, not wanting to argue about this.

He stares at you for a moment and there is a hint of amusement that softens his features. “If you were a man, you would make a good general.” He hums, moving to the bed and throwing back the soft, clean sheets. “Come rest.” He urges once he has sat down.

You nod and sit on the bed, swinging your legs in and you pull the sheets up after Marcus slides under them. “I know I wasn’t what you wanted but I want to make this work.” You murmur and he hums, “we will.” He promises and you sigh, closing your eyes after he blows out the candle. You will need to report to the Emperors with something about him at some point and you already feel like you’re betraying him. “Goodnight.” You whisper and close your eyes as you fall asleep within moments, unable to worry about being in a strange place when you are exhausted.

Marcus lays in the darkness, listening to your breathing as it starts to slow down. The soft rustle of the sheets when you move. Looking over at you as the moon casts a pale glow through the sheer curtains covering the balcony. It’s a curse that you are so beautiful right now, since it has been some time since he has had a woman in his bed. His cock twitches as he imagines touching you, but he doesn’t reach out. Turning away and looking at the stand where his sword is displayed, sighing softly as he wonders how long it will be before the emperors send him off to war again.

You may have fallen asleep right away but you wake in the middle of the night. The moon is high in the sky and it takes you a moment to remember where you are. You inhale sharply when you remember you’re in Marcus’s villa. In your new home. You exhale and lean back onto the bed, looking over at the muscular back of your new husband. He’s handsome, no denying that fact, and he’s strong. Capable. Smart. All qualities to want in a man. You wonder what his desires are. He hasn’t been married for 20 years and you wonder who he fucks. He can’t be celibate. He’s a general. You’re not stupid enough to think he hasn’t slept with whores. You wonder if he pleasured them or simply took what he wanted. You can see his golden skin illuminated by the moon, moles and scars mapping his life before you and you can’t help but reach out to gently trace a path, your touch feather light. He grunts and you withdraw your hand, eyes wide at the idea of being caught. You sigh when he settles back down and you lean back on your side. Staring up at the ceiling, you imagine him giving you pleasure. You’ve read about it plenty of times but your late husband always fucked you to fill you. There was never a day in bed pleasuring each other. He had business to attend to in the senate and he didn’t have time for silly things like making his wife cum.

Marcus had woken up the second you touched him. Feigning sleep as he waited for you to slip from the bed. Only to feel you roll away from him and sigh. He wonders if you are regretting this, if you are doubtful of your future even though you had seemed to trust him enough to fall asleep. You grunt quietly and sigh, like you are thinking about something that is uncomfortable. “What keeps you awake, uxor?” He asks quietly in the dark.

His deep, sleep laden voice makes you squeak and you turn to look at him, his back still facing you. You bite your lip, wondering if you should lie or tell him the truth. You are no longer a young innocent bride. You were a widow, matured by loss. "I was wondering if you pleasured the lovers you've had during your time of being a widow." You declare, cheeks burning but you speak without wavering.

Marcus grunts slightly, the sheets rustling as he turns over to look at you. His dark eyes searching your face for some clue of what you are thinking. “Unless they cry out to gods falsely, I would say yes.” Marcus tells you, not bragging, but speaking honestly. “I do not like false attempts to flatter me and I prefer that a woman leave my bed with a smile on her face.”

You appreciate his candid response and you decide to be bold. You sit up, shifting to look down at him and you drop the sheets from your body. "I have never cried to the gods. My last husband would penetrate me without caring if I was wet enough before he would push into me. He would spill inside me and then go about his day, leaving me with my legs up in hopes of conceiving his child. He never - he never gave me pleasure or made sure I was enjoying myself." Marcus makes a noise of disappointment but you don't let him comment when you quickly add, "I want you to fuck me. Like you would a camp whore. I want you to make me cry your name so every god will hear me on Capitolium."

Pushing up to his elbow, Marcus stares at you seriously. “The camp whores are used to…rougher sex.” He warns you. “After war, after the killing- the urges to fuck are rough. There isn’t the pretty lovemaking that is slow and sweet.” His cock hardened even now thinking of it. “It’s hard and deep. Enough to steal your breath and make your tits shake from the force of my thrusts.” He arches a brow. “Are you sure that is what you want? I am sure your senator husband didn’t fuck you like I would.”

His words combined with his deep voice makes your cunt clench and dampen, and you lean closer to him, "my husband didn't make me see stars. He didn't make me cry. I want you to fuck me like you do those whores. Make me scream for all of Rome to hear. I can handle it. I can take it."

This time, the kiss Marcus gives you isn’t chaste. It’s not a quick pressing of his lips to yours to appease the Emperors. This is wet, carnal. Lunging forward and capturing your lips with his and sliding his tongue into your mouth as he rolls you onto your back. Completely and instantaneously taking over as his fingers reach for the hem of your tunic.

You gasp into his mouth, tongue meeting his and you whine when he breaks the kiss to drag your tunic up your body, tossing it down on the marbled floor. You shiver as the cool night air hits your skin and he shifts to kneel, his dark eyes looking down at you. You look up at him and reach for the hem of his tunic, already tenting with his arousal. "I want to see my husband."

He has no problem being naked, revealing himself for you. He pulls his tunic up and his cock catches, starting to bob as he pulls it up over his head and tosses it aside. “Spread your legs for me, bella.” He growls, his voice raspy and full of command. “Let me see my wife’s cunt.”

You are already wet just from the strength he displays and you whimper, spreading your legs for him and your slick is shiny in the moonlight as you put yourself on show for your new general husband.

Marcus groans, his large hands squeezing your thighs and then moving down to your hips, holding them as his thumbs spread apart the lips of your sex and his cock twitches. Sliding his fingers through your folds until he is circling your entrance with two fingers until they are wet with your desire and he pushes them inside your slick walls. “Perfect.”

You moan when his thick digits push into you, stretching you out. Your hands itch to touch him so you reach down to wrap your fingers around his cock. “Not yet.” He growls, batting your hand away and you whine, both in frustration and pleasure as he starts to move his fingers. Slowly pumping them until he’s twisting his wrist so he can press his thumb against your clit. “Gods.” You gasp, your fingers gripping the sheets.

Leaning down, he bites at your nipple before running the flat of his tongue against it when you gasp. It makes him smile, the shocked sound you give. “You should see men suckling the tits of whores as they bounce on their cocks.” He groans against your skin. “They all love it, the men, the whores.” He continues to pump his fingers deeper into your cunt and loves how your walls start clenching down around them.

His words are scandalous but you gush at the thought of watching a scene like that. Something so sordid. “Marcus. I- do it again.” You beg and he obliges, leaning down to suck on your nipple before biting down. “Oh gods.” You whimper, your hips tilting as he works you higher and you feel that familiar feeling in your stomach. Something you’ve only ever done for yourself.

“That’s it.” He encourages you, his cock throbbing as he presses his thumb against your clit and pumps his fingers deep, curling them up inside you like one of the whores of his youth had shown him. He had been grateful to her ever since when he had been able to consistently please the women he was fucking, including his wife when he had married. “Why don’t you cry out for me, uxor?”

Marcus’s words send you over the edge. His claim of you both verbally and physically has you clamping down on his thick digits. “Oh fuck.” You curse, soaking his fingers when you cum harder than you ever have in your life.

He isn’t the type of man to just stop as soon as you start to cum. Continuing to work his fingers into you as he watches you come apart. Groaning quietly as your slick coats his fingers and slides down his wrists. You are wet enough now.

He takes your breath as he works you through it. “Marcus. Please.” You beg, wanting to feel him inside you, “I need you inside me.” You reach out to wrap your fingers around his cock, pumping him like Gracchus taught you.

Marcus hisses, batting your hand away and for a moment you freeze, afraid you had done something wrong. “It had been too long.” He growls, grabbing your hips and flipping you over to your stomach to pull your ass up in the air. “I need to be inside you before I spill.”

The position is new and you gasp in surprise, looking over your shoulder at your new husband who has his cock in his hand, pumping himself as he smacks your ass with his free palm. “Fuck me.” You demand, arching your back to display yourself for him.

“You would make such a good camp whore.” Marcus growls, shuffling forward to line up. It’s not exactly a compliment to most high born women, but he doesn’t think you will take offense. His hand is on your hip as he presses the head of his cock at your wet entrance to push inside you in one, hard thrust.

He stretches you like you’ve never known but it doesn’t hurt. You moan in pleasure as he twitches inside your pussy, making you whimper his name. “Marcus.” You pant, “move.” You demand and he chuckles, “so desperate.” He pulls his hips back, leaving only the tip of him remaining before he pushes deep into you in one quick thrust. “Fuck!” You yelp, loving how he feels.

He chuckles and grips your hips harshly in his hand as he rocks into you. Watching as your body arches back as he pulls his hips back, withdrawing again. He had told you he wouldn’t be gentle with you and he is keeping his word. “Now you will cry my name.” He vows, pushing forward again to fill you up and rock your body into the bed beneath you.

He takes your breath away, feeling like he’s in your stomach and you cry out on every rock of his hips, falling forward onto your cheek as you grip the sheets that are crumbled beneath you. “Fuck, Marcus.” You cry, feeling your body jiggle with each thrust.

He had almost vowed that he would not touch you but he could not resist your request. Your body is so willing, so yielding to him, making him groan as he plows into you over and over again. Listening to your moans as he fucks you.

His hands squeeze your flesh and you are lost in the sensations. No one has made you feel like this before. “Gods, you’re - you’re so thick. Stretching me out, husband.” You whine, rocking back onto him.

He growls in pleasure, snapping his hips forward again and again. He won’t last long, he knows that. It’s been too goddamn long since he has fucked anyone. Leaning over your back, he slides a hand between your thighs and starts to rub the little pleasure button above your grasping entrance. “You are such a needy whore.” He coos in your ear.

His words make you squeal when combined with his fingers on your clit and it doesn’t take long for you to fall apart. You cry out his name loud enough that the servants will hear and your thighs shake as you clamp down on his cock.

“Shit, shit.” Marcus hisses in pleasure at how you soak his cock, rocking his hips through your pulsing orgasm. His body starting to tighten as he works himself closer. Pulling his hand away from your clit and grabbing your hips. Slamming his own against your ass for another few thrusts before he is ripping free of your cunt and taking his cock in his hand. Pumping furiously as he starts painting your ass with hot ropes of his seed.

You huff in disappointment when he spills hot cum on your ass. You wanted him to fill you up, to experience it. Not to become with child but to feel him. You look over your shoulder as he relaxes from his orgasm and he’s so beautiful. Jaw clenched, nostrils flaring, he looks like a god.

Marcus squeezes your hip with the hand that is still holding you and sighs. “Fuck.” He pants, feeling completely blissed out. Slapping your ass once before he is shuffling off the bed to reach for his tunic to clean your ass off. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

You rest your cheek against the sheets as you let your body lay flat while he cleans you up. “I did. Why didn’t you- did you not wish to spill your seed inside me?” You ask curiously, looking over at him as he walks naked across the room, the moonlight highlighting his form.

Marcus picks up the pitcher of wine and pours a cup. Turning to you with a slight tilt of his head as he starts to pad across the floor back to the bed. “We have not talked about children.” He reminds you. “I did not want to fill you if you did not want to risk carrying my child.” He never spilled inside the women he fucked, always pulling out. When he started to cum, he had just acted on instinct. He takes a sip of the wine and offers you the cup.

You take the cup from his hand, thanking him soft and you watch him as he sits down beside you. He’s so broad. You imagine him protecting you, defending you. You shift closer to rest your head on his shoulder, feeling closer now you’ve consummated your marriage. “I do not mind children. I am not sure I can have them. Gracchus…he spilled inside me every time and it never took. Would I disappoint you if I do not provide you with a child?” You ask softly, pulling away from him so you can look at him.

“I …..never imagined having another child.” Marcus tells you honestly. He looks over at the sword on the display and then back to you. “If you never give me a child, I would not think it was because of you, but because the gods did not wish it so.” He rationalizes. “One day, I will leave and never return home, fallen in battle.” He accepted his fate a long time ago, made peace with it. “If you have no wish to risk carrying, I will spill my seed on the sheets.”

You barely know the man but to know he could die in battle makes your heart clench. “I’d like you to spill inside me if you wish to have me again. I enjoyed the pleasure. I want to feel you and if it takes, then we will be blessed and you can fight knowing your legacy will live on.”

Marcus chuckles. “You are a beautiful woman, one the gods would be envious of.” He tells you. “I am just a man. I would have you every night and at least once during the day if you were willing.”

You fluster, biting your lower lip as he compliments you. Your late husband never did so. “I will not complain if that is what my husband wishes of me.” You declare and he reaches out to grip your chin, “it is not about whether I wish it of you, it’s if you wish to have me.” He says and you look into those dark eyes, “I want you if you want me.” You promise and he slides his hand down to your neck, inhaling deeply. He never expected to fall into bed with the woman that was gifted to him but he finds himself eager to bury himself inside you again and fill you up. “Let us rest, corculum.” You say as you stand up to set your wine cup down on the table and you make your way back to the bed, sliding under the covers still nude.

Marcus hums in agreement and slides back into bed beside you. Pulling his arm back to allow you to curl against him if you wish. “I don’t mind.” He tells you when you hesitate. “We will rest and know that no one can claim we have not consummated our vow.”

You curl into his side, listening to his breathing even out and you focus on his heartbeat. You’re here to spy on him, to ensure he’s not hurting the empire with a coup but you aren’t sure if you can betray him like that. He’s already gotten under your skin. Eventually, you close your eyes and decide to see how things go. Perhaps it’s only rumors and there will be no evidence of Marcus Acacius’s unrest with Rome and her emperors.

****

Marcus groans, toes curling as he thrusts up into you. Watching as your breasts shake, mouth dropping open in a low moan of his name. It’s been nearly a month and he is still in Rome. The Emperors claim they want their general well rested for the next campaign and to give him time to spend with his new bride. He has enjoyed that. Since that first night, you have become insatiable and Marcus has fucked you in every position, on every surface of the villa. Spending more time with you than anyone else although you do disappear with your servant at times, claiming you prefer the peace of the women’s baths in the city center. He doesn’t begrudge you that, although he misses the time when you aren’t with him. He slaps your thigh, smirking when you clench down around him. Riding his cock is probably your favorite way to have sex and he doesn’t mind, your beauty entrancing him as you gallop towards the Elysian Fields of pleasure. “Cum for me, amica.” He moves to rub your clit like you enjoy, having learned your body well over the past weeks and his other hand drags your body down so he can suckle at your tits.

“Marcus.” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair as he bites down on your nipple and the change in angle has you falling apart for him. His fingers rubbing your bundle of nerves has you shaking and you have never known such ecstasy. You rock back onto his cock, trying to work yourself through your orgasm and spur his but it’s so much. Your thighs shake as you collapse on top of him, smothering him as you moan his name. He moves fast, rolling you over so you’re beneath him, his jaw clenched as he looms above you, his hand gripping your thigh to push it towards your stomach so he can work himself deeper inside your pulsing cunt. “It’s it, fuck. You are so deep. Keep going. Want you to fill me with your seed.” You order, watching him as he grunts. The last month you’ve been indulging in your new husband but as you look up at him, the guilt looms. Your trips to the baths have not been truthful. You’ve been to the palace to inform the emperors about Marcus’s interactions, his meetings while he is in Rome. You hate betraying him, wish you could go to the palace and tell them you’re done, but you know the emperors would have you killed for insolence and treason if you dared to deny them. So far, Marcus has met with a few senators at his home, discussing the mounting cost of the endless war, the endless conquests that have sent the Roman people into poverty. That idea alone is treason to the empire, to question the decisions of the emperors, but they haven’t dragged Marcus from his home. They are waiting for something and you don’t know what that is. Marcus reaches for your hand, lifting it above your head to bring you back from your thoughts and you moan, squeezing him inside your pussy. “Want you to cum for me, Maritus.” You order, sliding your free hand up his chest.

He groans, his thrusts stutter and he starts to give himself over to your command. Life with you has been so rewarding, so free. He has done nothing more than drink wine and have sex with you. Feeling more relaxed than he ever believed possible. The emperors had truly blessed him when they had forced the marriage and he can only hope that he had treated you well enough that you look on your union favorably. Every day he has spent with you has brought you closer to his once guarded heart and he knows that he would die for you. Having fallen for you sometime between the hours spent in bed and the conversations you have while you indulge in your hobbies. Often you would sit outside under a shaded tree and watch while he trains in the courtyard. Making him proud when you later attack him and beg him to fuck you after he is done and his sparring partners have been dismissed. It makes him think of a simpler life, leaving the army and moving out of the city to work a small farm. Leaving the intrigues of Rome behind.

You slide your hand up to caress his cheek, his grip on your hand tightening as he pulses inside you, painting your walls with his seed. “Marcus.” You whisper, wanting to tell him how you feel. You believed him to be a heartless brute from the stories you’d heard about the general but he’s shown you nothing but kindness. He’s funny, he’s smart, and he is loyal to Rome. Not her Emperors, but the Empire and you admire that. You know he risks his life trying to associate with the senators to try and quell the Emperors’ need for more land, more blood. You don’t want to betray him any longer. Tomorrow, you’ll go to the palace and try to end the task you’ve been given. You can no longer betray the man you love. He turns his head to kiss your palm and you offer him a loving smile, wanting to spend the rest of your life like this.

Marcus pulls out of you gently and rolls to his back, pulling you against him. He has learned that you enjoy the closeness after sex. The lazy conversation that can be shared after you are exhausted. Your last husband cared little about your thoughts and he can only wonder how foolish Gracchus was. You are far more insightful than anyone would believe, brains behind your beauty matching most of the officers under him. “You enjoy your baths, but have you always wanted to live in the city?” He asks, his fingers stroking your spine slowly.

You caress his chest as you throw your leg over his, enjoying the closeness. “Not always. I’ve imagined a little farm in the country. Growing my own fruits and vegetables, maybe even some vines to make wine. Peace and quiet and away from the hustle of the city. When I married Gracchus, I was barely grown, and I imagined having children and watching them run free in the country.” You confess, “what about you? Your position in the city is close to the gods. Only the emperors and senate sit above you. Would you ever give up that power?”

He hums, happy that you are sharing with him. “I am weary of it.” He confesses quietly. “I have never wanted power, fame or adulation. I want to live simply. Quietly.” He had hoped to save for a little farm when he was married to his first wife, but he had given up those dreams when she died. Now that yearning was starting to build inside him again. “Would you be happy to live that way with me? Without children?”

You smile, leaning in to kiss his jaw, “I’d follow you anywhere. With or without children.” You vow, “if you wish to leave Rome, I will be by your side.” You promise and he turns his head to kiss you, his tongue sliding into your mouth and you moan at the way he devours you. “Insatiable.” You tease when you feel his hand trailing up your thigh to your cum slicked folds. “For you, always.” He promises and you giggle as he flips you onto your back, a growl escaping his lips.

****

You are reading a scroll outside under the olive tree, watching Marcus as he trains, and you turn your head when Antonia comes into the garden with a scroll. “Matronae, your presence is required at the baths.” She says your code and you sigh, shifting to stand after you hand her the scroll. Marcus pauses his training to look over at you, “Maritus, I will be heading to the baths.” You declare and he sets his sword down, striding over to you to cup your cheek, pressing his lips to yours. “Be careful.” He demands and you nod, pecking his lips as you step back and Antonia follows you when you enter the villa to prepare to leave.

Marcus sighs and reaches for the cloth to wipe his sweat away. “We are finished for today.” He decides, suddenly restless and uneasy about you leaving the villa. He’s not a man who ignores gut feelings so he decides that he will change and go out. If he happens to be near the baths that you frequent, it will be a coincidence.

You glance around the street as you make your way down the cobbled streets that lead to the baths before you’ll detour to the palace. You look over your shoulder, feeling like someone is following you and Antonia will wait at the baths to keep your cover. She doesn’t know what you’re doing but she keeps your secrets. You turn your head back to the street and moments later, your coin purse is grabbed from your belt and you are shoved to the ground. You hiss, hands grabbing your belt to stop them from robbing you but the man slaps your face, causing you to cry out. You keep hold on the coins and the man hits you again, grabbing your arms and you know he’s bruised you with his grip. He wrestles you as he grabs your belt and yanks, desperate to get the pouch of coins from your body. You scream for help, trying to slap the man and Antonia jumps on him but he swings her off and she hits the ground with a thud, a dazed look on her face.

The moment Marcus hears the scream, he knows his gut is right. The hood over his head is thrown back when he breaks into a sprint down the street. Citizens and slaves alike turn towards the sound, but Marcus ignores them, turning the corner to see a man on top of you, drawing his hand back to hit you. “Arghhhhhhh!” His screaming war cry distracts the man, giving him time to tackle him off of you in a red hazed fury. Enraged that someone would dare attack his wife, Marcus Acacius begins to hit him, over and over again.

You scramble to sit up, your body aching as Marcus hunches over the man, hitting him over and over. The crowd watches in shock and you are frozen as you witness your husband’s ferocity in person. He hits the man over and over until blood is pooling on the cobbled street and you scramble to stand, swaying as you approach slowly. “Marcus. Marcus. Maritus. Please -” You collapse back to the floor, your body aching as you struggle to stand and Antonia crawls to you as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Your servant's cry is what breaks through the focused rage. Turning to see you pass out and he immediately abandons his task. Dropping the unconscious man back to the cobblestones to scramble over to you. “Uxor.” His bruised and bloodied hands are gentle as he cradles you, scooping you up into his arms. “Get a hippocrates.” He demands, his eyes filled with rage that you have been hurt. “Have them come at once.” He turns and starts to run back up the streets, carrying you back towards the villa.nmm

Marcus carries you through the streets and your head lolls as you regain consciousness in his arms. "Maritus?" You whisper, head throbbing and he stops walking to look at you in his arms. "You're awake." He murmurs, "we must get you home. A hippocrates will be there soon." He promises and you nod, closing your eyes again as he carries you until you're set down on the bench in the entrance of Marcus's villa.

Soon the servants are scrambling, fetching cool water and clothes when he orders them to. The wine is brought and he urges you to open your eyes and drink some, knowing you must be in pain. “What happened?” He asks, ignoring his own injuries as he starts to lift your dress to check your body.

You gulp down the wine and look at your husband, "he came from nowhere. He - he wanted my coins. From my belt. He was trying - he hit me. Over and over. Threw Antonia. Where's Antonia? Is she okay?" You demand and your servant steps forward looking worse for wear but okay. "I am fine, matronae." She promises and you sigh in relief. "He slapped me and pushed me down. I wouldn't let him take the coin and he was hitting me until you came and Marcus, oh carissima." You gasp, looking at his bloodied knuckles.

You reach for his head but he shakes his head, “I am fine.” He insists, knowing that he has been through much worse. A few busted knuckles is nothing compared to battle. “Where do you hurt, uxor?” He asks softly, wanting to make sure that the hippocrates examines you thoroughly.

"My head and my back. That's where he hit me. He was - I was so shocked. I should've fought harder." You shake your head and Marcus cups your cheeks to examine the tender skin from the hits to your face. Luckily the bastard didn't break the skin. "You were brave. Most would've simply given him the coins." He murmurs and you nod, wincing when his thumb presses against your tender flesh.

“I should have killed him.” Marcus growls. “The guards will hold him, but I will have to go speak to them about your attack.” He won’t leave you until you are being examined, unless you want him to stay. “I should have sent one of my guards with you.” He murmurs guiltily.

Your eyes meet his guilty ones, “do not think that way. I have never been attacked before and I had Antonia. You did nothing wrong. I will wait for the Hippocrates.” You murmur, knowing he wants to go speak with your attacker.

He is stubborn, staying with you until the man he had summoned is ushered into the villa. “She was attacked.” He explains. “I want her examined and treated. Nothing is to be overlooked.” He leans down and presses his lips to yours briefly. “I will leave you to his care and return shortly.”

You nod and watch Marcus leave your rooms as the man asks you what happened. "I was attacked. The man hit me over the head several times and pushed me to the ground." You reveal and the hippocrates asks you to remove your tunic so he can inspect your injuries. "Your husband wishes for nothing to be overlooked." He says and you wince as he pushes on your lower back where you fell. He asks you several questions and you pause when he asks when you last bled. You frown, counting until you realize you have missed your bleed. "It could be the stress of the marriage and moving and-" The hippocrates hums, "perhaps but you must be careful in case you are with child. We shall wait and see if you miss your bleed again." You nod, knowing you must take care and you slide your hand down to your stomach as the hippocrate applies a salve to your tender aches. You redress after the hippocates leaves and you are confronted by palace guards. "You are being summoned to the palace." Antonia tells you and you nod, wincing as you take your cloak and let the guards escort you to the palace. Marcus is not there to argue your presence and no one says no to the emperors.

Marcus watches as the guards bring the criminal into the cell, smirking at the swollen features of the man. “You fucked up.” He tells the poor bastard. “You assumed to rob a noble woman, not realizing who she was married to.” The man whimpers, both from his injuries and the implication behind the words. “Who does she belong to?” He scoffs, trying to appear like it makes no difference to him. The guard holding his shackles chuckles. “You beat Marcus Acacius’s wife.” He tells him.

You arrive at the palace, guided to the room to wait for the emperors and you bow your head when they stride inside. “Ah, we heard news that you were attacked and your husband protected you. That is why you did not arrive. We trust you are well.” Geta says and you nod, “tender and bruised but not gravely.” You declare and they smile, nodding, “we are glad to hear that but we want to hear news of your husband. We hear that he met with Senator Brutus.” Caracalla tilts his head and you raise your chin, “I will no longer speak of my husband’s meetings.” You declare and Geta raises his eyebrows. “Excuse me?” You clench your sore jaw, “I will not speak of my husband’s affairs any longer.” You announce and Caracalla laughs, throwing his head back. “The insolence.” He spits after his smile drops. “I love him. I do not wish to betray his trust any longer.” You say defiantly and Caracalla growls, “you cunt. We are going to have you killed for your treason.” He hisses and you stand tall despite your heart pumping. “No, no. We gain nothing by killing her. Let’s invite her maritus to witness her betrayal.” Geta smirks and you gasp, “no. No. He can’t know.” You plead and Geta smirks, gesturing to his guard, “chain her and send someone for Marcus Acacius.”

Marcus watches as the criminal starts to cry, begging for his life as he contemplates the punishment for this man. He should have him killed, but in truth, the man is less than a plebeian, begging and scrapping by for survival. A result of the emperors foolish taxes to support their war mongering. Because his wife was the victim, he can choose the punishment. “He will serve in the army.” Marcus decides. “Since he has a need to plunder, he can do so in the name of Rome.” He doesn’t believe the man would survive long, but he will have food and a bed until he does die in battle. “General.” The cell door opens. “The Emperors demand your attendance at once.” The head guard for the Emporers is the one speaking, making Marcus wonder what has happened now.

You are shackled when Marcus arrives, striding into the hall and his brow furrows when he sees you chained. “What is the meaning of this? She’s injured.” He growls at the emperors who had waited for him to arrive. “Your dear wife has a secret.” Caracalla grins manically, clapping his hands. Marcus frowns, “secret? We have none.” Geta smirks, “oh she does. She’s been spying on you. Delivering details of your meetings directly to us. You see, we were concerned about your influence in the army, we wanted to ensure you were not planning a coup. Your dissatisfaction with our regime has not gone amiss and we know you have been vocal about this with the senators. We simply had to take precautions to maintain our status in the empire. We had your precious uxor spy on you. We ordered her to marry you and she has delivered on our orders until today. Today she suddenly has loyalty to you.” Geta scoffs and Caracalla rolls his eyes.

His brow furrows when he hears the accusations and his eyes find yours, stomach twisting when he sees the guilt and truth of their words in your eyes. “Marcus, please-“ he turns his head, his heart twisting, ignoring your plea as he faces the two emperors. If they know the conversations he has been having, he is dead anyway. “Rome is crumbling beneath our sandals.” He implores them. “The weight of the campaigns is heavy. Today, she was attacked by a man who can no longer afford to feed himself because of the taxes imposed for the war chest.” He doesn’t look over at you. “The poorest of Rome suffer heavily.”

You watch Marcus condemn himself and you shake your head. The Emperors stare at him and you swallow harshly. “You shouldn’t have - Marcus.” You whisper and Geta stares at him while Caracalla growls. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t - I didn’t want to but they threatened me and I- I love you. I never wanted to do this.” You promise with a cry.

Marcus doesn’t look over at you, waiting for his Emperors to determine his fate. Gets curls his lips into a cruel smile and claps his hands together. “I have the best idea for his punishment.” He cackles. “He will compete in the gladiatorial games!” His wide eyes swing towards you. “And she shall watch!”

Your eyes widen, “no. No. You cannot do that. I am the one who betrayed him. I am the one who refuses to continue spying. Don’t let him- he is a good general. He’s fought hard for you. Please. Take me. Don’t let him fight.” You plead on Marcus’s behalf.

They wouldn’t listen to you anyway, they never listen, but Marcus shakes his head. “If the emperors wish for my life to be fought for in the arena, then they will have their amusement.” He answers them, making them smirk as their personal guards surround him.

You shake your head, tears in your eyes as Marcus is dragged off and so are you. Taken in opposite directions and you are pushed into a cell, shackled, and you sob for your husband. For the life you loved with him that is now gone. Even if he survives the arena, he won’t want you. You have betrayed him. You don’t know how long you’re in the cell with nothing but dirty water until the cell door is opened and you’re dragged out by the guards.

“We cannot have you looking like a prisoner.” Caracalla titters as he smirks at your dirty and disheveled appearance when you are brought in front of him and Geta. “So we must clean you up.” He snaps his fingers and a female servant appears. “Wash her. Dress her in robes that will hide the chains.” He orders. “You will be sitting with us, isn’t that fantastic?” He asks. “The best view in the house as your dear Marcus fights for his life.” He tilts his head. “And yours.” He adds menacingly.

You are numb as you are cleaned and scrubbed by the servant, dressed in a clean tunic and she wipes your tears after she hides the chains beneath your robes. “It’s time.” The guard declares as he opens the doors and you try to swallow the lump in your throat. You ride to the Colosseum with tears stinging your eyes and you’re dragged up to the balcony where the Emperors are sitting on gold thrones, matching manic grins on their faces. “So glad you could join us.” Geta chuckles and you are pushed into a seat beside him, your chains rattling but hidden. You refrain from glaring at him, clenching your fists, and the crowd roars as Marcus walks out onto the sands. Your breath catches and you want to close your eyes, pretend this is a nightmare. “And who is my husband fighting? What man could match my husband’s skills?” You ask the Emperor and Caracalla chuckles, “not man. Men.” You inhale sharply as four men walk onto the sands.

The armor that he wears is his own, the subtle needling of the emperors’ visible to the crowds but unknown to all but those he had conspired with. The message that even an honored general of Rome, a man who had spent his life fighting for her glory, was not immune to the will of her emperors. Turning to the stands, it is easy to spot Geta and Caracalla, both of them laughing and drinking, merrily watching men fight to the death. His eyes find you, the horror written on your face making him pause as he brings his sword up over his heart, signaling his fealty to Rome. He turns and honors the men who will be fighting him, knowing that they have no choice in their fight and accepting that they will do their best to kill him. He had always known he would fall on a battlefield, he had just never assumed it would happen in the Colosseum.

Your heartbeat is deafening in your own ears as you watch the men rush towards Marcus, his sword swinging within seconds and you are terrified that he’s going to be killed. Your battle worn husband has fought many during his life but you worry he will die today in Rome, the Roman people witnessing his death. A symbol that even a great general can be taken down. “Please. He didn’t do anything. He’s fought hard for you.” You beg Geta, who scoffs, “by conspiring with others?” You shake your head, “to protect Rome and her people. Not against you.” You plead your husband’s case but it falls on deaf ears as your husband takes one man down.

This is needless. Marcus pants, gripping his sword firmly as the next man attacks. Crimson spilling from the man in the dirt and being mixed into a bloody paste as the general blocks the lunge, his foot shuffling back and he almost trips over the body.

You gasp when he stumbles and one of the men swipes his arm, cutting him. “Marcus.” You whimper, not wanting to scream and distract him. He grunts and swings back, the man crying out when his arm is chopping off. “Please, maritus.” You beg, needing Marcus to win.

Another man rushes him while the man he had just injured drops his sword to grab the bleeding appendage. Causing him to shift focus and move to the other man, grunting out when he grabs the man’s arm as he swings his sword down and shoves his own blade into the gladiator’s belly. Watching as his eyes widen when the pain registers and he realizes he will die on the hot sands.

You gasp when he has one man left to kill. The Emperors frown and clap as expected when Marcus takes down another opponent. The remaining man swipes at him again and you are on the edge of your seat as you watch your husband fight for his life.

The last gladiator is obviously the most skilled. He was smart too, using the other men to exhaust Marcus as he fought for hard minutes at a time with little break between attacks. The days of little water and no food leaving the general much weaker than he would be under normal circumstances, no doubt planned by the emperors to make sure that he falls today. Marcus barely jumps back in time from a swipe of the sword, the tip dragging across the armor covering his stomach and he feels his resolve weakening. There is no point to continue.

You choke when the sword cuts close to his stomach and you stand up, yanking on the chains that bind you. You try to walk towards the balcony but you stumble. “Marcus! Marcus! You must fight, Maritus. Fight for us! For our baby!” You shout, pleading with him to fight for his life.

The roar of the crowd is loud but he hears your voice. The shouting cuts through the din and he stumbles back, turning to look at the balcony where you are watching. Your eyes are wide and frantic as you scream again. This time he hears what you are saying. Our baby. Our baby. You are pregnant. His mind is reeling when he hears this, ducking down from the next attack on instinct alone to be brought back into the fight.

You watch as he has more energy, spurred on by your words, and Caracalla growls, “sit the fuck down.” He demands and you refuse, remaining standing as you watch your husband swing his sword. His opponent is skilled but younger and Marcus has your future in his hands as he swings his sword. Swiping the man who cries out, Marcus grunts as he kicks at the leg of the man, making him fall. He moves fast, swinging his sword to behead the man. You scream in joy as the man’s head rolls, knowing that Marcus has saved you.

You try to scramble to the emperors but your chains keep you in place. “Please spare him. He’s won. He’s won.” You beg and Geta gestures for Marcus to come to the balcony. He bows his head, knowing he will be ordered to be killed soon after, and he makes his way up to the balcony. You swallow harshly and you want to reach for him when he walks past you to stand before the emperors, bowing his head before he lifts it to clench his jaw in defiance. “You have beaten men who should have killed you. You have won.” Geta declares and reaches towards Marcus’s belt, taking his blade from the sheath and he presses it against his neck. Marcus hisses as blood drips from the cut, his lip curling. “Please.” You whimper, wanting your husband to survive. “You will leave Rome today. Disappear and take your uxor. If we hear a word of betrayal, you will be killed before you even realize it. Do you understand?” Geta hisses while Caracalla shakes his head, wanting blood.

“I understand.” Marcus murmurs quietly. “I will leave Rome.” He knows that he cannot risk your life and that of a potential child, if you are indeed pregnant. He is weary and just wants to get away from the Emperors. His eyes cut towards the men, his disgust for them clear.

You watch as Geta lowers the knife and sheaths it back in Marcus’s belt. He looks over at the guard and nods for him to release you. The shackles fall to the floor with a clang and you rush over to Marcus, cupping his cheeks to make sure he’s okay. “Take your traitor wife and leave Rome today otherwise you’ll be killed.” Geta promises and you nod, caressing Marcus’s cheek.

Marcus doesn’t trust the other men to keep their word, but he nods. Letting the guards guide you off the balcony and he reaches for his knife when he is out of the Emperor’s presence. “Maritus-“ you murmur but Marcus cuts you off. “Be quiet.” He hisses, knowing that you are not out of danger yet. A shift of armor could be the only clue an attack from the guards is coming and he needs to be alert.

You cling to him as he escorts you out of the colosseum to the awaiting chariot that is waiting to take you back to Marcus’s villa so you can pack your things. You are helped onto the villa and you swallow harshly, “I am so sorry.” You choke out and he shakes his head, “not here.” He says still not comfortable that you’re safe and you nod, reaching for his arm.

Because of his training, Marcus is efficient packing up. He completely takes over and gives orders to the servants while he drags you towards the private quarters where you can be alone.

Your wrists are sore from the shackles as Marcus stands in front of you. Both of you are worse for wear. You are covered in dirt, him in blood as you stand in front of him.

He stares at you, wondering if any of the time you had spent together was real or if it was all to get him to relax around you. “Are you pregnant?” He asks finally, needing to know if you were just bargaining for your life and praying it would sway the emperors.

You reach for him but he takes a step back, “I- I think so. I’ve missed my bleed and I- I never do. I think I might be.” You say softly, not wanting to lie to him.

His jaw clenches and he nods. “Then we will see if you are before we decide where we will go permanently.”

You nod, “I- I know you’re angry that I betrayed you but I- I went to the palace to tell them that I was done telling them your secrets. I didn’t want to - I never wanted to betray you but they threatened me and I couldn’t do it anymore because I love you. I’m in love with you, Maritus.” You confess, eyes wide as you prepare for his rejection.

Marcus wants to deny you. To call you a liar but he doesn’t see lies in your eyes. Maybe he is a fool, because you have already betrayed him, but he believes you. “Are you not just saving your neck now?” He asks, wanting to be sure. “I have nothing now. No power, no prestige. If you go back to your Emperors and beg for mercy, maybe they will give you to another man.” You move closer to him again and he doesn’t step back.

You shake your head, “I don’t want another man. I want my husband. I want you.” You promise, “I love you, Marcus, and I know - I know you are still mourning your first wife, your love, but I want you to know how I feel, Maritus.” You murmur, caressing his cheek.

“I stopped mourning my first wife.” Marcus admits. “When I asked you if you imagined always living in Rome.” He hears the servants rushing around to pack up the household, but he doesn’t move, staring at you. “I was asking to see if you would move away with me. Before this. Before we were exiled.”

You nod, “before this…I would’ve followed you anywhere. I love you, Marcus. I never imagined when the emperors ordered for me to marry you that I’d fall in love with you. I’d follow you anywhere.” You promise breathlessly.

“I have no trust in you.” Marcus admits, watching your face fall, biting your lip as you nod. “But I know you were trying to survive the whims of our Emperors.” He steps closer to you. “And I will not let you suffer for that.” He promises, lifting his good arm to trail his fingers up your arm. “I love you, uxor. We will leave Rome and make our home somewhere else, away from the intrigue and betrayal of this festering city.” He smiles. “Perhaps we will have your dream of children running in the sunshine.”

You smile, imagining children running in the fields while you spend your days with Marcus in the sun without worry of the politics of Rome. You lean in to kiss his lips. “I know you don’t trust me but I want to earn your trust.” You murmur and he nods, “let us find a new home. Together.” He declares and you lean in to softly kiss him.

****

“Maritus.” You moan, caressing his shoulders as you rock on top of him, your bump between you. “Uxor.” He groans, his hands sliding down your back as you ride his cock. “I love you.” You moan, “so much.”

The villa around you is still being cleaned and repaired, abandoned for such a long time but it will be worth it when it’s restored to it former glory. The fields outside are fertile and the bones of the home are sturdy. After the fire years ago, it had been left to let the vines overgrow. Perhaps it was fate that you and Marcus are settling and creating a family where Maximus’s was taken from him, but the former general just thought it was the gods way of finding balance. “I love you.” He promises breathless as he rocks his hips up gently.

You moan, getting closer and closer to your orgasm as you rock on top of him. His cock thrusts up into you and you cry out, falling apart as you soak him. You clench down around his cock and fall into his chest, your bump pressed against him. “Fill me up, Marcus.” You plead, wanting to feel it, feel him.

He chuckles softly, puffing out the sound as he works himself in and out of your cunt towards his own satisfaction. “It’s obvious I’ve done that.” He grunts, loving how your walls tighten around him. The baby will come soon and he prays to all the gods that they will spare you and the child. “Fuck.” He grunts, pushing deep and painting your walls with ropes of cum as he moans your name.

You run your fingers through his hair as he relaxes beneath you and you sigh, “te amo.” You murmur and he caresses your back while the moon shines through the linen on the balcony.

****

Your screams echo in the halls as you bear down. You are in agony, Antonia pressing a wet rag to your forehead as you push. The women of the household surround you as you labor. “Gods!” You curse as you grip the sheets. It feels like hours of pushing and you’re exhausted. “One more push!” Antonia demands and you sob, shaking your head as you push and finally, the pressure releases and a cry fills the air.

As soon as the baby’s cry rings out, Marcus cannot stop himself. Pushing the doors to the bedchamber open, he rushes inside, his hair sticking up from long hours pacing and running his hands through it, worrying about your fate. “Uxor!” He only has eyes for you and the small little bundle you are taking from Antonia. Your face is drenched in sweat and you’ve never looked more beautiful.

You look up from the baby in your arms, a grin on your face as your husband rushes over. “It’s a boy.” You murmur, checking all fingers and toes are in place. Marcus grins, leaning in to kiss your sweaty forehead. “You’re incredible, amor.” He murmurs and you tilt your head to kiss him softly. The cord is cut and Marcus takes the baby in his arms, needing to claim him. He holds him up to the servants and says “My son.” He proclaims, cradling his son and he leans in to kiss you again. “Our son.” He says and you smile, taking the baby after he slides him back into your arms so you can have skin to skin. “What shall we call him?” You ask Marcus who leans over to kiss your son’s forehead before he kisses yours. “Maximus Acacius.” He declares and you grin, “it’s perfect.” A new life in a place that held such pain. Your marriage may have been arranged by the emperors but your life together is fuelled by love and by choice.

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