#i feel like geta and dondas have the same dynamic as frasier and eddie where geta is annoyed by dondas to no end but can't get rid of him

[emperor-restaurant]

this is my offering to the powers that be. i ask little in exchange. i read on the archive that there's a discord server for those who imagine twin emperors caracalla and geta in love. an invite link to said server in my inbox or messages receptacle would be delightful. assuming, of course, said powers are comfortable with myself joining the server, and i fully understand if not.

under the cut is 444 words of geta's thoughts as he (literally) sleeps with his lovely caracalla. i saw gladiator ii less than 24 hours ago, so please forgive me if it's unpolished. i warn you, dear reader, it contains mentions of unsavory things. particularly: canon-typical incest, mention of necrophilia, and implied chronic illness (specifically advanced syphilis)

enjoy, dear reader. and do not hesitate to send criticism- i am unashamed of human error. it's what separates us from animals. ave res republica.

Geta didn’t mind Caracalla’s novel interest in sharing a bed. It was nice to have a warm body with him. (Of course, he’d let concubines into his bed, but it wasn’t the same. They were only warm in touch, not in sentiment.) He would go so far, in the safety of his own mind, to say he liked sleeping with Caracalla. However, he did not like sleeping with the monkey. 

Dondas was curled up in the crook of Caracalla’s neck and Geta was locked in a staring match with the creature. He wondered what Dondas was thinking of. Geta was thinking of how easy it would be to accidentally roll over and crush her tiny body. He grimaced- he could think of little less appealing than primate innards in his quarters. Well, he appended to the thought, I would readily accept Acacius’ disemboweled corpse dumped in my bed, if only to deflower his traitorous body. 

Frankly, he worried just as much about injuring his fragile brother with his weight as he did Dondas. Caracalla was delicate, and only more so as he became sicker. Geta was cautious when Caracalla insisted nightly on Geta lying over him like a heavy blanket in bed. Caracalla’s bones had too much give for Geta to feel comfortable putting his weight over him, no matter how much he insisted the warm pressure helped calm his mind and body. 

Geta still couldn’t shake the image of their soirée last market day. Caracalla’s favorite party trick was to hook a finger under his lowest rib and wiggle it like a loose tooth. It was never amusing to anyone but himself, but even less as of late. Whenever he pulled his robes aside, it revealed the necrotic blemishes on his torso, and it was all others could do to smile politely as his stubby fingers disappeared behind his ribcage. 

Geta was brought out of the memory when he heard Caracalla quietly snore. Geta slowly raised himself up from Caracalla, hovering above him on all fours like a hungry predator. Caracalla stirred slightly. Geta held his breath for a moment, but slowly released it in relief as Caracalla curled into himself. Geta carefully eased himself into the bed, lying adjacent to Caracalla.

Now that Geta had moved off Caracalla, Dondas moved to lap at a sore on Caracalla’s newly exposed chest. She suckled the leaking serous fluid, blood, and pus from the granuloma like milk from a teat. Caracalla mumbled something in a dream and brought his hand to cradle Dondas. He would let Dondas suckle his milk if he could, Geta thought idly as he watched his twin and his pet.