#lucius verus fanfic

[thetormentita]

ad astra per aspera - chapter 1

Dulce et decorum est pro cor cupiditatis mori.

Pairings: Ofc! Princess x Lucius Verus, Ofc! Princess x Lucilla (platonic)

A/n: finally! Here we have a snippet of the character that will accompany Julia on her way 🌚😊 enjoy!

Warnings: nudity, mentions of slavery, physical abuse and mentions of it.

Rating: Explicit (+18) (just in case)

Tag list: @novaursa @maegelletargaryen @mmkkzz

The news of a sudden trip of Caracalla to Germania catches her by surprise, and it is hard for her to keep her joy to herself, with the perspective of about a moon or even more without the constant threat of his temper flaring over trivial matters.

“You look happy, Domina.”

They are alone in the privacy of her quarters when Hala dares to speak, always in a murmur, her body close to hers in a delightful solace. Julia takes her companion’s hands between hers, feeling the warmth and comfort they offer. “I am” she admits, allowing herself a small, genuine smile that she rarely shows. “We should thank the gods to push my brother to leave.”

Julia’s voice carries a hint of lightness, a rare occurrence that Hala cherishes. They sit together, their proximity a testament to the trust and deep connection they have cultivated over time. The room around them is quiet, the only sound being their soft conversation and the gentle brush of the curtains moved by the breeze. Closing her eyes, almost blissful, she takes the Syrian’s hands to her lips and kisses them, a gesture laden with gratitude and respect.

It had been Caracalla the one to push forward the execution of their eldest brother when their father was starting to make plans about his successor, an act that forever altered the dynamics of their family and the empire. They no longer had Gaius as their guide and protector, the one who was destined to lead them with wisdom and strength, Emperor Septimius Severus was forced to rely on his second son, on the lad quickly known to the rest as Caracalla, and had even pushed his third, Geta, to rule along him to control his temper; who could have known the damage it would make to her once sweet brother.

“What if we celebrate it with a trip to the baths? It may do good to you, Domina. Other women will be there as well and you have all the right to enjoy your freedom.”

Julia still has the hands of her companion by her lips, her eyes closed and her skin savouring the feel of her touch, rough and gentle at the same time. The suggestion pulls her from the depths of her thoughts, her gaze meeting Hala’s, always filled with an unwavering loyalty despite the conditions of her own arrival to the imperial household years ago.

They arrive at the newly opened baths around the meal time, with less people crowding them despite Julia feeling that half of the city is congregated there. The Praetorian guards sent by Geta to keep an eye on them for their own safety station themselves in strategic places as they walk into the humongous complex as if they were trained for it, their eyes scanning the surroundings with the precision of seasoned hunters. The architecture of the baths is a marvel to witness, boasting columns that reach towards the heavens and mosaic floors that tell stories of gods and mortals alike. The air is filled with a mixture of steam and the scent of various oils, adding a sense of mysticism to the already enchanting atmosphere. The sound of water, from gentle trickles to the resonant echo of splashing, fills the air, creating a symphony of serenity that envelops all who enter. Amidst this tranquil setting, individuals move with a grace that belies the casual observer, their movements deliberate and unhurried, as if time itself has slowed within the confines of this sanctuary.

Despite her initial enthusiasm, Julia finds herself hesitating at the apodyterium, akmowledging the fading bruises on her side and her arms, easily covered by her clothing but now exposed, showing her frailty. It takes her a moment to gather all courage she can and create a feeling of something simillar to pride.

She is strong enough to endure. She has always been.

After leaving the newest slaves gifted to the imperial family keeping their things safe from any possible thieves, Hala and Julia make their way into the part destined by women, almost blending with the rest, nothing to distinguish them from the countless others who walk among the other women gathered there. They murmur as they make their way to the pool, with Julia wondering how her friend happens to know about several rumours that should not be known. Hala smiles knowingly, her eyes gleaming with the mischief of a thousand secrets untold. “Oh, Domina” she begins, her voice barely above a whisper as they approach the marble edges of the luminous pool, “there are many ears within any walls, and even more whispers that float through the air like leaves in the wind.”

“Do not speak in tongues” Julia allows herself a giggle, her curiosity now piqued beyond measure. "You know you must share with me. How do you come to know all these hidden tales?"

“If I told you, I would lost the magic I hold, Domina.”

The princess allows herself a smile as she shakes her head, her mind flowing free from the heavy shackles of imperial court. As they both enter the pool, the water embraces them with a gentle warmth, allowing the stress of their respective roles to dissolve into ripples. The secretive aura surrounding the conversation doesn’t leave them, instead, it grows thicker, like a tangible veil of mystique floating on the surface of the warm water.

It doesn’t take long until the first prying eyes spot them, forcing them to leave their conversation aside and adopt a more guarded demeanor.

“It is a high honour, princess, to share this serene moment with you.”

Quickly the wives of a senator and a consul approach them, ready to make them part of their own gathering. Julia Septimia, adept at navigating these waters, smiles graciously, her eyes reflecting the practiced poise of royalty accustomed to the ever-watchful gaze of Rome’s elite.

“It has been some time, princess,” one of the wives begins, her tone laced with the kind of respect and envy reserved for those of Julia's stature. “The city buzzes with tales of your absence since the last games.”

The quick moment of vain tranquility changes with those unfortunate words, and Julia can feel Hala biting her own tongue to not retort. It only takes her to raise her hand, slowly, just her fingers out or the water, to prevent the situation to escalate further. Noticed by two matrons, Julia’s eyes go to them, leaving the unfortunate words of the woman loom in the air, like a threat to her own status and her husband’s, making Julia wonder for a moment if she would have any chance to convince her brother to send that people far from the city.

“Princess” Clodia Pulla bows respectfully before introducing herself, allowing herself to preen for a cautellous instant about the position of her husband, the owner of the Ludus Maximus, before throwing a darted glance at the failed matrons who between mumblings decide to make a getaway. “Forget them. One is bitter because her husband is more focused on his lover than on hers, and the other is just a leech with too much makeup” she laughs, careless, almost obscene, and the soft wrinkles around her eyes frame her sass in a way Julia finds appealing. “May we?” with a gesture of the hand she points at the pool, and Julia nods, happy to find a fresh company.

Clodia Pulla sits at the border of the pool, sliding her feet into the water as the woman next to her bows her head towards Julia, softly, a warm bright upon her brown eyes.

“I am afraid times have not changed, princess. Unpleasant people are always a constant in our lives.” Lucilla, the ever respectable Roman matron, joins them, and Julia can’t help but think of her own mother, her vague memories of her reflected in the figure of the eldest daughter of the late Marcus Aurelius.

“Please, do call me Julia” their gazes meet, and if it weren’t for the public of the place, Julia is sure the woman would have even dared to do more than just throw a soft smile at her.

“If I were your friend I would have gauged that blabbermouth’s eyes before she could keep talking.” Clodia guffaws, and Julia can’t help but look at Hala, who just raises her eyebrows, silent, constantly observing around them, her eyes used to scan any looming danger as if they were still at the imperial palace.

It feels refreshing to give up to small talk, to just forget about the worries of the imperial court and be just Julia, not the sister of the emperors.

“You should see how happy my Priscus is” Clodia leans over her back, her exposed body almost claiming attention by itself, her curves catching the eye of a pair or women not too far from where they are, frowning, and Julia in some way admires the freedom running through the veins of that woman. “Since the news of General Acacius’ victory in Numidia he keeps going here and there, he says that new men will come to the ludus and he must prove Rome that they are worthy.”

The ludus. Gladiators.

Clodia Pulla is the wife of Priscus Gaurus, the man behind the most important ludus in the whole empire. His job is to train and shape gladiators into the fierce warriors that fight in the arena of the amphitheater every time games are arranged. His wealth comes from the success of his men, and Clodia does nothing to hide the origin of her oppulence despite the slight disgust in Julia’s guts.

“Numidians. I think I haven’t seen any fighting yet.”

Lucilla’s gaze upon her feels scorching.

“They fought with Hannibal, if I am not mistaken, Domina.” Hala’s voice is soft, almost a caress, a balm against the glares of the woman whose position now she has. “Scipio had them in great esteem.”

“Let us hope then that the editor does not get any inspiration on Carthage’s boldness.”

They are again by the apodyterium when Lucilla takes advantage of Clodia’s curiosity on Hala to talk, her hand landing softly upon her forearm.

“How are you?” her voice, sweet and at the same time worried, is only for her to hear, her eyes swiftly roaming over her features, stopping by her lip. “Julia…”

“Cannot complain, can I?” she smiles, and it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“He is cruel and bloodthirsty, and your brother does not seem able to control him. Take the boy and leave, hide for a time.”

Their gazes meet, and Julia can’t help but wonder if the woman before her is hiding something.

“He adores his nephew, no harm can fall upon him.”

“What about you?”

Lucilla’s grip on her arm tightens, almost like wanting her to confess how sometimes fear clings to her clothes and accompanies her through her days like a heavy burden. Julia has certainly heard about Lucilla’s brother, how his mind started to decay when the grasp of the imperial power felt too much for him to handle— he had never hit her, did he?

Julia searches Lucilla’s eyes, looking for a hint of truth or perhaps a glimpse of the same fear that lingers around her own heart. The air between them is thick with unspoken words, a tangible tension that feels almost suffocating.

“I was called once ‘Filla Romae’. It is expected of me to endure what the gods see fit.” her voice is a mere whisper, barely audible over the distant hum of the vibrant life outside the confines of their private space. Lucilla’s gaze finally meets Julia’s, revealing a depth of resolve mixed with an undeniable vulnerability. It is a look that speaks volumes, conveying years of bearing burdens silently, of walking the fine line between duty and desire, between the public facade and the private torment. The only difference between them is that Lucilla had the chance to marry while her father was still alive while Julia has to endure the will of her brothers wanting her close to them, her will bent to their desires, her dreams subjected to their approval.

“Julia, please.”

…

The parade is a sparkling celebration of colors and joyous sounds, stretching down the bustling streets of the heart of the Empire. Music, soldiers, and elaborate floats move in perfect harmony, delighting onlookers with their vivid displays and synchronized rhythm.

“Father told me once about Victories like this” Geta’s mumble reaches her ears only, almost like a secret message carried by the wind. She watches the procession with wide eyes, marvelled at the grand display of festivity. “Marcus Acacius is probably the most important man in the whole empire out of our family, and we must earn his favor, no matter what.”

Julia knows about the power of the military, her mind still fresh with the images of her father’s legion supporting his ascension to the throne. She knows this parade is as much about power as it is about celebration, and the man parading himself as a champion of Rome is one of the most influential figures she will ever see. His voice may sway senators, his decisions shape policy, and his favor can elevate a mere soldier to glory. A glorified general bound to one of the most prominent families of Rome by his wife, the perfect Lucilla, the woman who exemplifies grace and cunning in equal measure.

His carriage rolls by, decked with gold and pulled by four majestic steeds, the pure vision of victory illuminating the path before him. The crowd erupts in cheers, their admiration swelling with each step the golden chariot takes. Julia watches the scene reveal itself in glorious vivacity—a tapestry woven with pomp and high expectations.

But not everybody celebrates Rome’s last triumph.

When the procession stops by the dais, the acclaimed general himself shows a face of distaste and battle-worn exhaustion, as if the accolades weigh heavy upon his soul. Julia’s quick eyes observe the faces following him, the image of defeat and silent rage, their hopes and families shattered by the command of the man honoured today.

It only takes her brother a raised hand to stop any noise and music, all eyes upon them, expecting words of admiration and loyalty to flow effortlessly, but they do not seem to notice the slight tremor on Geta’s hands, nor the sweat upon his palms.

Oh, the tolls of having to deal with Caracalla.

“General Acacius” begins Geta, his voice firm yet holding an edge that no cheers could mask. “We honor your valor and triumph today. You bring with yourself not your own success, forever reminded, but Rome’s own victory. May the Gods continue to favor you and grant Rome many victories under your command.”

As if she had been commanded to, Julia takes a step forward, her gaze observing the retinue behind the carriage, the people forced into slavery because Marcus Acacius had to comply with the wishes of a mad man. As she takes the golden laurel wreath, she spots a pair of eyes upon her, filled with a mixture of sadness and defiance. The eyes belong to a man, proud despite his defeat, his strong hands gripping the heavy chains that bind him to his fate. He observes her as she walks towards the general, each step intent on conveying grace and control. Julia can feel the weight of every gaze upon her, yet her focus remains on those eyes—not hollowed by defeat, but blazing with unyielding pride and resistance.

“General” her words are soft, enough for him to ease his gesture as he kneels before her. “Rome thanks you for your service. Your deeds will be remembered and carried forth in the annals of history.” She places the laurel wreath upon his head, a crown of victory heavy with unspoken burdens.

Her touch lingers upon his hair, and Marcus closes his eyes for a moment, the feel drawing a silent sigh from his lips. The crowd erupts into applause, a jubilant roar echoing across the square, yet amid the clamor, Julia's mind drifts back to the man in chains, whose eyes have never left her, and a quick glance towards him is challenged by the prisoner, who meets her gaze with unwavering conviction. A shiver runs down her spine, and she wonders what stories those eyes might tell, what fire they hold behind their steadfastness.

…

“Wait until he knows” her brother’s voice trembles like the candle by his desk, his hands roaming his hair in restless movements. “I should have been the one to do it, Julia. I—”

She crosses her arms over her chest, the scar upon her lip tight, reminding her of the reason behind the fear upon her brother. If things would have been different, she would have been far from there, married to a senator, or a consul, or even a famed general raising his children in a peaceful villa far from the city, from the nest of vipers she has to call ‘home’.

“You should temper yourself” she retorts, her eyes observing him with a mixture of pity and frustration. “If I were you, I would enjoy this opportunity to search the favour of the Praetorian guard instead of pitying yourself. What’s done is done, Geta.”

Both siblings exchange looks, the weight of their brother’s presence lurking between them like a phantom in the dim room.

“You have the chance to take the throne for yourself, to avenge the years you spent under his shadow, and yet you hesitate, letting doubt cloud your judgment.” Julia’s voice remains steady, yet there's an undercurrent of urgency threading through her words. “Remember what happened to Romulus and Remus” as she talks, she approaches the table, banging it with her hand opened when she talks about the foundation of the now Empire. “Do you wish to be Romulus or Remus, brother?”

A quick hand reaches her neck before she can react. Years of practice have made of Geta and Caracalla experts on the art of venting their frustrations with her, nimbly leaving any marks as proof of their anger.

“Remember who you are talking to” he hisses, his eyes upon hers without blinking, the pressure of his hand enough to hurt but not to prevent her from breathing. His voice, though quiet, carries a dangerous edge, one that she has become all too familiar with over the years. Geta, the elder of the two, has always had a way of asserting his dominance without resorting to the outright brutality that Caracalla seems to favor. Where Caracalla’s anger is like a tempest, unpredictable and violent, Geta’s anger is cold and calculating, a silent storm brewing beneath the surface, ready to unleash its fury in the most meticulously planned manner.

Julia just sighs, her lips curving in a defiant smirk despite the turmoil inside her.

“Will you mourn me when I die, brother?”

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Slick

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x Lucius Verus x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: A new day dawns and your soldiers are still with you. Warnings: ALL PORN NO PLOT. (Like they don't even move from the bed.) SMUT, MMF threesome, man on man action, soft dom marcus, subby lucius, fingering, anal fingering, unprotected p in v, anal sex, pussy eating, mutual dick sucking, lots of praise kink, oil, body massage, a call back to S2E3 but this time with DUDES, reality? get that out of here! we've got roman dudes covered in oil fucking, not beta read, very lightly edited because your girl wants these horny words exorcised out of her loins. Words: 4,000.

A/N: Hi. It me.🧍🏼‍♀️ I've returned to offer you more Gladiator II sex. Read their prior adventures here and here. I had this pretty close to done well before the RUSH of all of the Pedro/Paul content today, but tonight I finished and lightly edited it (please accept any mistakes and overly repeated words). This is the first time I've written this form of male on male, so I hope I did well. Also, shout out to @magpiepills for being my smut guiding angel for some wording, @yopossum for the pink donut pic (I swear, this is not a euphemism), @itwasntimethatdidit40 for being just as enthusiastic about these three as I am, and as always forever and ever @ohheypedrito for shouting at me in text when she read it. And now in the words of @luxurychristmaspudding...

Trēs Masterlist Masterlist

---

Morning dawns and your soldiers are still there. Marcus holds you tight, his strong arms still wrapped around you. Your fingers trace the lines of his face, resting easier in slumber. He awakens at your touch, stirring and tightening his arms around you. His brown eyes flutter open, his dark lashes framing his tired eyes that focus on your face.

“Angel,” he whispers, voice rought with sleep. His hand slides up your back, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer. His lips capture yours, kissing you deeply and slowly.

His tongue teases your lips, urging them to open as he deepens the kiss.

His other hand roams your body, slipping between your thighs, fingers ghosting over your folds. “Need you,” he rumbles against your skin.

"But first, I need to get you nice and wet for me," he purrs. His thumb circles your clit as he sucks a mark onto your collarbone.

You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. Marcus chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin as he works his way lower.

You feel Lucius wake behind you, a soft gasp escapes his lips.

Marcus lifts his head, looking over at his young soldier. “Salve soldier,” he rumbles. “Watch. Watch as I fuck our angel.”

Lucius swallows hard, his cock already hardening against your backside. “Yes, M-master,” he responds.

The general shifts you onto your back, spreading your legs wide as he settles between them. His brown eyes lock with yours as he lowers his head, his warm breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck. You shiver in anticipation, your hands gripping the sheets.

Lucius props himself up on his elbows. His wide blue eyes watching every movement with his plush lips agape. You turn your head and watch him watch as Marcus dips a hand down between your bodies.

Marcus's thick fingers slide through your folds, spreading your wetness. He teases your entrance, circling it slowly before pushing two fingers inside. You gasp, arching into his touch as he pumps them in and out.

“Already so wet for me, aren’t you Angel?” Marcus groans against your neck.

“Yes,” you moan, staring into Lucius’s eyes.

"That's it," he growls. "Open up for me, open up for my cock.”

His fingers work you open, curling and scissoring inside you as his thick thumb circles your clit. Your hips rock against his hand, seeking friction.

Beside you, Lucius’s breath comes in quick pants, his eyes darting between your face and Marcus’s hand.

Marcus's fingers pump steadily in and out of your slick heat, stretching you for his thick cock. You writhe beneath him, soft moans falling from your lips as pleasure builds within you.

"Please," you whimper, your hands grasping at his broad shoulders.

He chuckles darkly, nipping at your earlobe. "Patience, Angel. I want you dripping for me first."

His thumb presses firmly against your clit, rubbing tight circles as his fingers pump you. Your back arches off the bed as waves of pleasure crash over you.

"That's it," Marcus growls approvingly. "Cum for me. Show my soldier how good I make you feel."

Your eyes lock with Lucius's as your orgasm washes over you. His blue eyes shine as he watches you fall apart underneath his General’s touch.

You whimper when Marcus withdraws his fingers. He holds them up in awe of how they glisten in the soft morning light, coated with your arousal. "Taste her," he commands Lucius, holding his fingers to the soldier's lips.

Lucius eagerly obeys, running his tongue along Marcus's fingers and moaning softly at your taste. Marcus's eyes darken as he watches, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

"Good soldier," Marcus praises, pulling his fingers from Lucius's mouth with a wet pop. "Now watch closely. See how I take our angel.”

He positions himself between your thighs, his cock brushing against you. You cry, grabbing at the skin of his strong arms desperate and needy to feel him inside you.

He grips your hips, holding you steady as he slowly pushes inside. You gasp at the delicious stretch of him, your walls fluttering around his cock as he fills you completely.

“So tight,” he groans, his eyes locked on yours. “So perfect.”

Lucius watches with rapt attention, his chest heaving quick breaths. His hand moves to grip his own hard cock, but Marcus stops him with a sharp command.

"No touching, soldier," Marcus says firmly.

Lucius obeys. His hands fisting in the sheets instead.

Marcus begins to move, his hips rolling against yours in steady rhythm.

He thrusts into you, his power stretching you with each deep stroke. His strong hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he guides you in a steady rhythm.

“That’s it Angel,” Marcus growls, his hips snapping against yours. “Take it, show my soldier how good I make you feel.”

You moan in response, your own hips grinding against his. With one hand on your thigh, Marcus lifts your leg higher around his waist. The change in angle causes him to hit that spot deep inside you, making a sharp cry escape your lips.

"You're mine,” he declares. “Mine to fuck, mine to pleasure."

Lucius whimpers softly. His blue eyes are dark with lust as he watches his general claim you. His cock stands proudly, leaking precum onto his toned stomach.

“And who do you belong to Soldier?” Marcus asks, turning his head towards Lucius.

“You, Master,” Lucius groans, his voice strained. “I belong to you.”

“Look at how much she loves it,” Marcus continues, his gaze never leaving yours as he drives deeper. “She can’t get enough.”

Your eyes dart to Lucius, whose breath comes in desperate gasps as he watches you both. His body trembles, his teeth clamp down on his bottom lip.

“You want to touch yourself, don’t you?” Marcus asks him, his voice taking on a more dominant edge.

Lucius nods frantically. “Yes, Master.”

“Not yet soldier, not yet.”

Marcus increases his pace, his thick shaft driving into you harder and faster. The slick sound of skin against skin fills the room, mingling with your cries of pleasure and his deep grunts of exertion.

Marcus senses your orgasm, his thumb finds your clit and begins rubbing tight circles. "Cum for me, Angel," he commands, his voice rough with desire. "Let my soldier see how good I make you feel."

The dual sensations of his cock and thumb push you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you in intense waves. You clench tightly around Marcus's shaft, milking it with every pulse.

"Good girl," Marcus praises, continuing to thrust through your orgasm.

Beside you, Lucius whimpers, his hands fisting the sheets tightly as he watches you come undone. His cock twitches against his stomach, leaking steadily.

As your orgasm starts to ebb, Marcus slows his movements. With a groan, he pulls out of your still quivering heat. You whine at the loss, feeling empty without him filling you.

Marcus settles on his back next to you, his cock still hard and slick with your orgasm. He reaches over and grabs the oil cannister.

“Rub me, both of you,” he commands in a low voice, shifting slightly to make room for Lucius beside you.

Your hands tremble slightly, your body still overwhelmed by the orgasm Marcus just gave you, as you take the cannister from his grasp. The smooth glass feels cool against your skin as you pour a generous amount of golden oil into Lucius’s outstretched palm before you trickle a stream of oil down Marcus’s broad chest.

His deep brown eyes move between you and Lucius, something akin to adoration flashes quickly through them.

Your hands glide over his broad chest, Lucius takes care of his strong legs.

Marcus’s body is peppered with scars from his many battles, your hands soothe each mark.

His skin almost glitters in the light of the rising sun. Every curve and ridge of his body gleams like he’s made of bronze.

Lucius’s hands glide over Marcus’ toned thighs, working the oil into his skin.

Yours and Lucius’s hands worship the General’s body, your eyes fixated on his cock, standing hard and tall in between his thighs, twitching.

His body is soon covered in golden oil, slicking down his body. You slide your hand down his stomach down to his cock, looking up at his eyes for silent permission. He grunts and nods, raising his hands to cradle the back of his head.

You trail your fingers along the length of him, mesmerized bu the way his skin shimmers under the oil. Lucius’s eager hands mirrors your movements.

“More,” Marcus orders, his voice rough with desire. “I want to feel both of you on me.”

He looks like a Roman statue posed like this. His body covered in shiny oil, his posture relaxed and strong.

“Show me how much you want it,” Marcus commands, his tone low. “Both of you.”

You kiss your way down his chest, your lips tasting the rich taste of the oil on Marcus’s body. You reach his thick cock, pulsating with need and look at Lucius in silent communication. You both share a smile before leaning in closer together, your breaths mingling as you let your tongues dance around the head of his shaft, both of you savoring the taste of him.

“Fuck,” Marcus breathes, his voice gravelly as he watches you both work in harmony. His gaze flickers between your mouth and Lucius's like a predator reveling in the beauty of his prey. “Worship me.”

You take turns tracing your tongues down the length of Marcus’s throbbing cock, his hips jut up with a hiss with each gentle flick and teasing spiral.

You take turns alternating between drawing your lips around the head of his cock and kissing up his shaft, each time making sure to lock your gaze with Marcus's. His brown eyes blaze through yours, your body feels alight with satisfaction knowing how much you affect him.

Lucius leans closer, his breath mingling with yours, and together you both envelop Marcus's cock.

Marcus lets out a deep chuckle as you and Lucius moan around his cock before he reaches down, gripping Lucius's chin to draw him closer. Their eyes lock before Marcus pulls him up into a heated kiss that makes your whole body shiver. Their lips meld together, grunts and groans escaping their lungs. You watch, enamored by the two strong men getting lost in each other. Marcus’s large hand glides down Lucius’s back, pulling him closer. The General and his soldier entwined in raw desire for each other.

Marcus pulls away, glancing down at you. “Look at her,” Marcus breathes against Lucius’s lips, his voice thick and primal. “She’s waiting for us.”

Lucius’ blue eyes are filled with lust when he looks at you.

“Sit on me Angel,” Marcus orders.

You swallow hard, feeling a rush of heat bloom across your skin at the command. With a slight nod, you shift your body, feeling the slick oil coating your skin as you rise from your spot and position yourself above Marcus.

You meet his gaze—intimidating yet tender—as you slowly lower yourself on him, feeling the broad head of his cock press against your entrance.

You pause for just a heartbeat, relishing the tense stretch of him him. Lucius watches intently, kneeling next to Marcus on the bed.

“Go on, Angel,” Marcus urges, his voice a low rumble. “Take what you need.”

With a deep breath, you sink down further.

“Gods, you feel incredible,” Marcus groans, his hands gripping your waist firmly, guiding your movements as you settle fully upon him. “Now move.”

You lean forward, resting your palms on his broad chest for balance, gripping his skin as you slip from the oil, your breath quickening as he begins to rock his hips beneath you.

Lucius watches, shifting closer, his hands wander over his own body, slick with oil.

Marcus presses his heels into the mattress, driving up into you with powerful thrusts that makes you see stars. You moan loudly as you feel Lucius inch closer, drawn to you.

“Faster,” Marcus growls, his hands tightening on your waist, urging you to pick up the pace. You obey willingly, relishing the way his cock stretches you open, filling you completely as you rise and fall atop him.

“Good girl,” he grunts, his muscles tense beneath your palms as he drives deeper, brushing against that sweet spot inside you. “You’re doing so well.”

You’re a mess of oil and sweat, Lucius’s hands run along the curves of your breasts before he leans down and takes one into his mouth. You gasp at the sensation of Marcus thrusting beneath you while Lucius’s warm mouth envelops your breast, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak of your nipple.

“Take it all, Angel,” Marcus growls, his voice thick with approval as he watches Lucius worship you. “Touch her soldier, help me make her cum.”

You ride Marcus harder as Lucius slides a hand down your torso, tracing a path until his fingers reach your sensitive clit. You gasp at the sensation, your body responding to the touch of both men.

The room is filled with the sounds of your moans and the wet slap of skin on skin as you ride him, Lucius’s fingers pressing and circling your clit.

Your orgasm flows through you, your legs shaking, head thrown back, eyes fluttering shut as you cum on Marcus’s cock.

Marcus's grip on your waist hardens, guiding you through the tremors of your release as he thrusts upward with primal intensity. His breath comes in ragged growls, his body flexing beneath you with feral energy as he watches you unravel.

Lucius doesn’t relent either, his fingers still circle your clit, pulling every last shudder from your body as the waves of your orgasm still crash into you.

Your hips undulate atop Marcus, your voice ragged from screaming and moaning as you still ride the earth-shattering orgasm.

Lucius’s mouth moves to your lips, kissing you deeply, swallowing all of the sounds that escape your throat.

“Lay back, Angel,” Marcus instructs, as he shifts beneath you. You feel his hands release their grip just enough to allow you to move. You push yourself up from him, feeling the slickness of oil coating your skin as you slide off his cock, a gasp escapes your lips at the sensation of emptiness. You turn and lay back upon the soft bedding, the fabric cool against your heated skin.

Marcus stands, heading over to the amphora and pouring himself a glass of wine.

"Soldier, attend to her," Marcus orders. "Lick up the mess I've made of our Angel."

"Yes, Master," Lucius replies eagerly, quickly shifting to settle between your spread thighs.

He gazes up at you reverently for a moment before lowering his head and running his tongue along your slit, lapping up your wetness. You moan softly, threading your fingers through his dark hair. His tongue delves deeper, thrusting into you and moaning at the taste.

Marcus watches, his eyes dark with lust as his soldier pleasures you. He takes one last drink of wine before reaching for the vial of oil, pouring some into his hand. "On your knees, soldier," he commands gruffly. "Present yourself to me."

Lucius obeys immediately, raising his hips while keeping his mouth latched onto your core. Marcus moves behind him, spreading Lucius's firm cheeks to reveal his tight hole. The general drizzles the warm oil down Lucius's crack, letting it trickle over his entrance.

He shivers at the sensation, a muffled moan vibrating against your cunt. Marcus sets the vial aside and begins massaging the oil into Lucius' skin. His thick fingers rub firm circles around the tight ring of muscle, coaxing it to relax.

Lucius moans into your wet heat as Marcus slowly pushes a finger inside him, working the tight ring of muscle open.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, holding him close as his tongue adores you.

"Get nice and loose for your general's cock,” Marcus rumbles approvingly, pumping it in and out.

The soldier's hips jerk, grinding back against Marcus's hand as he eats you out with renewed fervor. His tongue swirls around your clit before sucking it between his lips.

"Ohh," you cry out. Pleasure crashing over you as Lucius works you higher up the cliff.

Marcus continues fingering his soldier open. "Look at you, so eager for it," he praises. "Such a good soldier, servicing our Angel while I open you up."

Lucius rocks back to meet each thrust, whimpering and moaning into your slick folds. His tongue moves erratically against you as Marcus takes him apart with his fingers.

Marcus gazes down at you as he opens Lucius with his fingers. Your thighs begin to tremble, another orgasm building rapidly under both men’s attention.

“Close… close,” you moan out, your hips rolling to meet Lucius’s movements.

"Cum for him, Angel," Marcus commands, voice deep and authoritative. "Cum on my brave soldier's tongue."

With a sharp cry, you shatter, inner walls clenching rhythmically as ecstasy crashes over you. Lucius moans deeply, lapping at your release.

“Beautiful,” Marcus admires, pouring oil on his hard cock and stroking it. “Now Angel, watch as I take my soldier.”

Marcus grabs Lucius by the hips and with one swift, possessive motion, he sheaths himself deep inside Lucius. Both men gasp, Lucius buries his face into your thigh, his hands gripping the bedding as Marcus starts to thrust, deep and slow.

You feel each powerful thrust with each tremor that moves through Lucius against you.

You watch in awe, heart racing, as your General begins to claim his soldier.

“Take it, soldier,” Marcus’s voice is a low rumble against the backdrop of Lucius’s soft whimpers. “Show our Angel how well you take me.”

You grab Lucius’s chin, tilting it up to look him in the eyes, staring into the ocean of blue gazing back at you filled with waves of admiration and arousal.

You watch as power and submission join, filling the room with a symphony of skin slapping against skin and sounds of shared pleasure.

“More,” Lucius gasps, his body arching towards Marcus, urging him to give more of himself. He takes your breath away, vulnerable and fierce beneath Marcus’s strength.

Marcus responds with a feral smile, increasing his pace, each thrust hammering deeper into Lucius, pushing them both closer to that cliff.

“Let her hear you,” Marcus urges, his own breaths growing ragged. “Let her hear how good I make you feel, soldier.”

“Angel,” Lucius cries out for you, his voice raw and needy, his eyes staring into yours. His muscles tense and flex with each thrust that rolls into his body.

Marcus looks at you, his strong brow furrowed in determination as he spits in his hand and leans forward, wrapping his arm around Lucius's waist to firmly grasp his soldier’s cock.

“Feel it,” Marcus grunts. Lucius's eyes flutter shut, his mouth falling open in a silent moan. He squeezes your thigh harder, pulling you closer grounding himself.

You lean in closer, mesmerized by the scene unfolding before you, wanting to be closer to Marcus. He reads your body like a battlefield.

In one fluid motion, he lifts Lucius against his chest while still thrusting inside of him. Gasping, Lucius clutches at Marcus's larger hands and holds them tightly.

“Come here Angel,” Marcus grits, his tone dropping an octave sending goosebumps up your spine. “Help me make my soldier cum.”

You obey without hesitation, moving quickly to kneel in front of the two soldiers. Your fingers glide over Lucius’s taut chest, tracing the muscles that ripple beneath your touch as Marcus continues to claim him, thrusting deeply, rhythmically.

“Just like that,” Marcus growls, locking eyes with you. “Touch him Angel.”

Your heart races as you curl your fingers around Lucius’s cock, stroking him in time with Marcus’s thrusts. Precum drips out of the tip, your hand gliding smoothly along his length.

“Together,” he commands, his voice a possessive whisper that resonates in your core. “Let’s take him apart.”

You lean closer, your breath ghosting over Lucius's ear as you begin to quicken your pace. His body responds in kind, every stroke of your hand pulling more desperation from him.

“Angel,” Lucius groans, his voice trembling with need. “Master.”

You lean forward, sealing your mouth over his, kissing him. You swallow down his moans as Marcus drives into him, each snap of his hips against him a declaration of his dominance.

“Don’t hold back,” Marcus growls, the echo of his voice vibrating off the walls of your bedroom.

Lucius's breathing grows more shallow against your lips. You hold onto him tighter, mimicking his every movement as he responds to the General's touch. He pulls away, biting down on his lip before begging. "I can't... I can't keep this up much longer."

“Cum then soldier,” Marcus demands. “Let it all spill for our angel.”

“Cum Lucius,” you whisper, your fingers tightening and twisting. “Cum for us.”

His breath hitches and with a low moan, Lucius breaks, his body tensing and tightening. “I’m—” he gasps, eyes squeezing shut as his length throbs in your hand.

Marcus thrusts harder as his soldier’s body quakes against him. With a battle cry that echoes, Lucius spills himself hot and thick across your fingers. You caress Lucius’s flushed face, brushing away the sweat that formed on his brow. He pants, his eyes rounding with affection as he stares into your eyes.

“Good soldier,” Marcus grunts before letting out a primal growl and pulling out. “Lay with our Angel,” he commands, “I want you to watch me cum for you.”

You spread out on the mattress, Lucius collapses next to you, his chest heaving, his blue eyes still glazed with pleasure.

“Keep your eyes on me,” Marcus growls, standing tall looming over the bed. He towers over both of you, golden skin glistening in the soft light, each muscle defined as he strokes himself. “Watch me cum for you two.”

His hand works his length, teasing the tip as he stares down at you both. Lucius's hand finds yours, intertwining his fingers with yours as both of you watch Marcus in awe.

“Tell our Angel what you are,” Marcus demanded.

“Y-Your obedient soldier,” Lucius answers, never breaking eye contact with his general.

“And what do we crave?” Marcus growls, voice deep and rumbling.

“Our Angel, sir,” Lucius responds, his voice hoarse with need.

Marcus grunts, his grip on his cock tightening as he thrusts his hips forward.

“Marcus,” you moan. “Cum for us, General.”

It is as if his name on your lips was enough to shatter him. With a guttural groan, Marcus’s hips buck forward, his thick white ropes flying over both of you, hot and sticky against your skin.

“Angel,” he growls, collapsing onto the bed and crawling to lay next to you.

He catches his breath, his large chest heaving up and down.

“Kiss her soldier,” he sighs, grabbing you and pulling you close against his sticky skin. “Taste my Angel’s lips for me.”

You giggle as Lucius nuzzles his nose against yours and chases your mouth, needy and desperate for your kiss. You moan as his soft lips part yours and taste all of his desire for you.

Marcus chuckles softly behind you, rumbling against your back. “Just like that,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse and satisfied. “Let her feel how much we crave her, and then, we shall rest and bathe.” 

[fallinlovewithmyflaws]

Sneak Peek - Lucius Verus x OFC

“Do you know who I am?” Aurelia enters the small dark cell, the man they call ‘Hanno’ facing away from her, his features hidden to her prying gaze. Aurelia can’t help but notice his muscular back covered in a mixture of sweat, dirt and blood. Hidden beneath the grime, she can see the telltale brand of a slave, freshly burned into his skin.

“You should not be here.” Despite the many years that has passed, the man in front of her still holds signs of nobility and royal birth, in his voice and the way he holds himself, confident and unyielding.

“I know I should not, yet here I am. Do you remember me or not?”

“You are not easy to forget, Elia.” A nickname, her nickname, one that she has not heard in 16 years.

Aurelia slowly but surely places her hand into the rough calloused hand of her childhood companion, encouraging him to turn towards her. ‘How different his hands are,’ she thinks. It tells her an untold story of the laborious life he must of led after he was forced to flee Rome. The moment he turns to face her, their eyes connect, the burn behind Aurelia’s is instant, for those blue eyes are ones she could never forget. Not even if she wanted to.

“I thought I lost you.” Tears silently cascade down Aurelia’s cheeks while her dainty hands gently trace along Lucius’ features, trailing from his brow down towards his bearded jaw. Time has changed the boy she remembers, yet she can still recognise his boyish features in the man before her.

Both their eyes rake over each other’s faces, drinking in every changed detail. Aurelia immediately notices when Lucius’ eyes drift down to her lips, a movement she subconsciously echoes. The air in the small cell has changed, crackling with unsaid tension.

This is a little sneak peek of something I am writing for Lucius Verus and an original female character. It will follow the movie as much as I can. Hopefully you enjoy it and more than welcome to comment and like it! If you would also like to be tagged when I post the entire thing, let me know!

[seven-seas-of-rhye-bread]

Ahh... Lucius Verus x F!OC

Sorry for the lame title, but my brain is exhausted from writing this fic.

This was inspired by that scene in the beginning of the movie when he's sitting in that bath-- it was so rude that it only lasted a minute!!

Warning: Pure smut ahead, 18+, minors DNI please!!

Disclaimer: I am but a dreamy horny bitch, this is not historically accurate besides what I could google ( and I only read the top result, so who knows how accurate). I am here for a GOOD time not an ACCURATE time.

P.S. sorry it ends abruptly, I'm chronically bad at endings, weee.....

P.P.S-- only lightly proof read, my b

xx

Cassia stood over the amphora straining the oil from the herbs and flowers it had been stewing with. An intoxicating bloom of iris, myrrh and cinnamon floated up from the mixture and she inhaled deeply. She might be a lowly servant at Rome's most exclusive thermae, but whenever she strained the oil Cassia liked to think she smelled like an empress. 

Alba, another thermae servant, opened the door and peered around it.

"Cassia? You're needed." 

"I'm needed?" She asked, confusion clouding her face. She was never needed-- there were plenty of servants, why would someone need her specifically? Unless-- oh. It was him. The champion gladiator, Hanno. Her heart quickened, remembering the last time he was there. 

It was after his first victory, he was treated to the best private caldarium in the baths. When she first laid eyes on Hanno he was standing in the middle of the room, facing the bath beyond him, the steam rising from the hot water. He was still dressed for battle, and his shoulders rose and fell with quick breaths as if he was still fighting. Cassia was silent as she made her way into the room, as servants were only to serve and not to speak unless spoken to. As she reached up to undo his armor, Hanno snatched her wrist and turned towards her. His eyes were wild with rage and confusion. Cassia wanted to cry out in pain, his grip was more than strong, but she remained silent, afraid someone would hear. 

In a moment he realized where he was-- that he was not in the coliseum and she was not another gladiator intent on killing him. Hanno's eyes softened with concern and fear as he let go of her wrist and saw the red imprint that would soon bruise. 

"I--I'm so sorry. I didn't mean--" his words trailed off as his hand fell back by his side. 

"It's alright." she assured him with a quiet and calm voice, though her wrist ached already.

"Is it okay if I..." Cassia started to reach up to his armor again. Hanno nodded and turned back to face the pool. She was careful with him, noting the way he winced as she raised up his arms and took off the heavy chest plate. She averted her eyes to the side as she removed his belt and loin cloth, before kneeling to remove his shin guards. 

Cassia stepped back, putting his armor and cloth aside. Hanno stepped cautiously, painfully down the stone steps into the water. He hissed as he fully submerged himself in the cerulean water, a trail of blood leading from the wound on his shoulder. 

Cassia blushed when Hanno let out a satisfied, relaxed moan as he sat back against the side of the pool. She had done this time and time again when there were games happening at the Coliseum, but she had never felt bashful like this before. She stood quietly in the corner-- her eyes fixed on the mosaic floors. 

After a long moment Hanno spoke, "what's your name?" 

"Cassia" she answered quietly, her eyes lifting to meet his. 

"Cassia..." he repeated, his eyes looking heavy, now that he was relaxed. He winced when he reached up to his hair that was matted with sweat, dirt and blood. 

She went over to the  edge of the bath, taking a small amphora from the bathing kit, filling it up in the pool and pouring it over his head. A small moan escaped Hanno's lips causing a flush to creep up Cassia's face. He was sitting at an awkward angle from her so she pulled him closer to her and poured more water over him, massaging the grime from his hair. Cassia took a small palmful of clay shampoo, and worked it into his hair. His head was lofty in her care, lolling around in the sublime comfort of being bathed. 

After his hair was clean, she positioned Hanno's head back to rest on a rolled towel and took a wet cloth wiping it gently at the blood and dirt caked on his face. She thought he had fallen asleep, but then his eyes fluttered open. Hanno reached up and tucked a loose strand of her flaxen hair behind her ear. It was such a gentle action from someone who had just killed multiple competitors. Cassia could see in that moment, he wasn't meant for violence.

Hanno pulled her face gently down and kissed her. It was deep but soft at the same time, and she would have continued kissing him, if her arm that was propping her up didn't slip on the wet stone ledge and land in the water. The hot water brought Cassia back to where she was-- and what she was doing. She stood up quickly, an embarrassing crimson shadowing her face. 

"I- I have to go," she said as she avoided Hanno's gaze which followed her as she laid out towels and a clean tunic for him. 

It had been more than a fortnight since that day, and Cassia avoided him at every one of his visits since then. Though she would be lying if she said she didn't take note that he refused assistance from any other servant, a fact that quelled a jealousy she didn't know she could feel for someone after one kiss. And now, tonight-- Hanno was asking for her. 

Cassia tried to keep her breathing calm and even as she walked down the Portico to the private bath he occupied, but her heart was beating too fast to breathe calmly. 

She knocked gently before entering the caldarium, forcing herself to meet his gaze in the candlelight. He was already in the pool, sitting in the corner, his arm hanging over the side.

Cassia didn't know what to say, nor if she should speak at all. Hanno watched her intently as she stood before the bath, waiting for him to tell her what he wanted. 

"Sit" he ordered in a quiet voice and she obeyed, taking a seat on the ledge. 

Hanno sat up, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her. He slowly reached for her hands, bringing them to his face, inhaling deeply. 

"Your hands smell... like a goddess's," he said after a moment. 

Cassia smiled to herself, "I was making bath oil..." 

"Sorry to have pulled you away from your task..." he said with an air of cheekiness as he once again relaxed back against the side. 

He asked, "what are your duties with me?"

"my duties?" Cassia asked, her eyebrows lifting slightly.

"What are you to do for me?" he rephrased his question.

She bit her lip and looked down to the bathing kit that sat by the ledge. 

"I'm to assist you with bathing..." she answered, surprised that she was not as intimidated by such a suggestive question.

Hanno smiled at her, "so you're not to join me? You cannot bathe with me?" 

Cassia shook her head, but a hint of a smile couldn't help but grace her lips. 

"Would you get in trouble?" Hanno asked, reaching out to touch the collar of her tunic. 

"I... I don't know, but I don't think my master would be pleased" 

He then looked her in the eyes and asked, " aren't I your master in this room?" 

She was at a loss for words, but that was no matter as he sat up and kissed her. It was more intense than their first kiss, more desperate and hungry, and it lit a fire in her.

"Join me..." Hanno whispered enticingly, his breath hot and ticklish on her ear. 

Cassia stood up, her heart beating wildly as she walked back to the door. She hesitated for just a second before locking the door. When she turned back towards Hanno he was smiling. 

She undressed slowly, enjoying the way he watched so intently, she could tell he was stroking himself as she got fully naked and walked towards the pool, descending slowly into the hot water. Cassia had never been in a bath that was warmer than tepid, and she gasped as she fully submerged herself in the water. 

Hanno reached out and pulled her into him, his leg resting between hers. She could feel the length of his cock against her thigh, instantly making her wet and lusty with desire. He moved her over to the ledge and with a small gasp from her lips, he lifted her up onto it and went between her legs, spreading them. Hanno looked up at Cassia as he planted a slow kiss on her inner thigh, and another and another before licking a strip up her wet lips. 

Cassia moaned, her eyes shutting tightly as he began working her with his tongue. She wasn't inexperienced in sex persay, but a man had seldom done this to her-- they typically only cared of their own pleasure. She felt Hanno separating her lips with his fingers before slipping one finger and then another inside her. Cassia gasped and covered her mouth, afraid that someone could have heard in the relative quiet of the thermae at night. 

She felt blinded with ecstasy as Hanno continued to lap at her and move his fingers in and out. Before long Cassia was seeing stars, and slowing Hanno's hand-- her orgasm rising through her so intensely she instantaneously became sensitive. She let herself breath for a moment, coming down from the high as he placed gentle kisses on her thighs once more. 

Cassia slid back into the pool, her head still swimming with the intense orgasm. Hanno grasped her hips and pulled her into him again, letting Cassia taste herself on his lips. She felt oddly delirious with desire for him, her orgasm making her hungry for more of him.

Hanno rested back against the side of the pool and Cassia wrapped her legs around his waist. He angled himself into her, and he cried out at his first thrust, burying his face into her neck, biting gently at her soft wet skin. 

Cassia rocked her hips back and forth, his cock stretching her walls with the slightest bit of pain that soon turned into nothing but pure pleasure. Hanno fingers dug into her fleshy hips, pulling her up and down on his cock, slowly and rhythmically, as if trying to make it last forever. She had wrapped her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his wet curls, their kisses gentle but still hungry, as if neither of them could get enough. 

Hanno's thrusts became frantic while still deep, ramming his length into the very depth of her cunt so that she felt breathless at each one. He came with a stifled cry into Cassia's neck and she could feel all his muscles tense with his orgasm under her touch. They stayed still for a long moment like that, the only sound in the room was their heavy breathing and the water trickling down from their skin. Cassia eventually pulled herself off of Hanno, and settled down next to him, his strong arms strung around her shoulders. 

They stayed just like that for some time, not saying anything, just being with each other. She felt like she could fall asleep in his arms, and with a slight pang in the pit of her stomach, she actually wished she could. 

[dailymonraszkic]

A mirage

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60859564

"Old man's dream?"

"That's what it is," he said, his voice dropping lower. He stared at his bloodied hands and chuckled. "A dream, nothing more."

Part 1

The sound of a cheer from the Colosseum brought her back to her predicament. She rolled her eyes and shook her head as she listened to the mindless cheering from the building. The vendors close to it were happily selling their goods knowing that people used to buy more once they saw a fight. None of those people seemed to see the homeless and hungry lying by the walls, how little children were lying unmoving and staring at the sun not playing or running. She shook her head once again and thanked the vendor, turning around to ask her servant to grab the food baskets when she noticed a wagon stopping near the Colosseum.

Men of different ages walked out, some watching the buildings and people in astonishment, some not looking up. She noticed that most of them were covered in bloodied cloths and some were bandaged. She grimaced. Such was the fate of the gladiator - to die for the cheer of the crowd.

“My lady,” Aora stepped closer, a basket with bread in her hands. “Are you ready to return?”

She nodded and looked at Areas. She waved her hand to him and he jogged to grab the baskets full of vegetables and fruit. They could return to her house and start preparation for her brother’s return. She knew that it would be a long day before the Emperors would allow him to go back home to his wife and sister but she also knew that after everything he saw and done for Rome, he would need his rest.

Slowly she made her way with the deeper basket to the wall, children perking up at her sight. She smiled at them and kneeled next to some of the youngest children. She uncovered the inside of the basket. Bread rolls, dried fruit, fresh vegetables. She started to divide the food while Aora distributed the water she had bought. Her brother always said that her heart was too soft for the suffering of others. As a child, she gave away her things, food, and allowance to others who needed it.

“Are you a Princess?”

An innocent question from the child brought her back from her thoughts. She was daydreaming way too much. She smiled and turned her head to him.

“No, sweet one. I am a citizen of Rome and a believer it is a place for all of us to be equal.”

“You believe in old man’s dreams then,”

Her head snapped back and the sun blinded her for a moment. She moved her head a little and blinked to get rid of the sudden heat in her vision. Before her stood one of the men brought by the wagon, he had blue eyes in the shade of the stormy sea and curls framing his face. His face looked Roman but his voice held an accent she couldn’t place. He had blood on his tunic, at his throat, but wasn’t hurt anywhere close to it.

“Old man’s dreams?” She asked curiously and stood. Areas was close to the man, ready to help her if needed.

The man, the gladiator, nodded. His broad build was making her feel like she was staring at the statue of one of Roman heroes.

“Emperor Marcus Aurelius believed that Rome could be for everyone, that it could be a wonderful republic with people equal.”

She blinked surprised, how did he know about the Emperor’s vision? She cocked her head and looked at him from top to bottom. Even if she tried to place his origins her answer would be wrong. He looked like a Roman man. But why would a Roman man be a gladiator from the conquest? He could have deserted his legion but it was rare for men to do so.

“And how a…,” She stopped to look for the right word her brother used. “A barbarian would know about the Emperor’s dream?”

He chuckled and looked over her head; his eyes glazing over.

“From the stories,” his voice got deeper as he said those words.

She frowned; sudden footsteps made her turn around and look at a bald man in leather armour. He was the handler of the gladiators.

“My apologies,” he breathed out. “They just got here and never thought of the rules not to talk to a lady higher in society than them.”

She smiled tightly as she watched the man grab the gladiator and drag him towards the area. Before they both disappeared behind the wall, the gladiator turned his head and locked his eyes with hers.

“A dream,” he mouthed.

She swallowed hard and returned to her task. She needed to get back to her brother’s villa before his legion would return. If she could, she preferred to avoid the Emperors at all costs. The twins were spoiled children not fit for rule but alas they were the only children of Emperor Severus and there was no other choice after his death.

When she stepped into the villa it was quiet. Her sister-in-law must have retired to her chambers or was meeting the senators. Marcella knew about the meetings since she was fifteen. Lucilla was supposed to be banished after her brother’s death due to Severus’ fear of her taking over but Acacius argued to marry her to allow her to stay.

Marcella adored Lucilla but she knew that there was no real love between her and Acacius. Adoration? Possibly, but both were too vulnerable from their losses to be open for more.

Lucilla’s servant was as always a shadow in the villa. There was nothing that happened without her knowledge. Marcella early on learned that if she wanted to do something secretly she needed to check on her first.

“Marcella,” Lucilla appeared suddenly.

The young woman smiled at her warmly and looked around to search for the servants. Two-spotted her shopping and took it to the kitchen while she was led to the garden by her sister-in-law.

“The Emperors will want something ostentatious for the newest victory. I prayed for Acacius to return safely and unharmed. Gods seem to favour me in this at least.”

The memory of the young prince going missing was fresh even after fifteen years. Lucilla mourned her son every day and never missed a prayer for him. She held onto the hope that Lucius found a place to stay somewhere safe and was living a peaceful life somewhere far from Rome and his ancestors’ madness.

“People have been more and more restless for some time now. There is less food than before, and many decide to leave the city and make their settlements in the country to have more provisions,” Marcella wasn't often told about matters of the Forum but Lucilla was and thus Marcella knew from her. “The Emperors seem to not pay much attention to their citizens' well-being.”

Both of them looked at the film to see if Leta was close. Lucilla knew her servant was spying and used that to see who exactly it was. It started slowly with her talking loudly about matters that were non-existent and then she waited to see who would ask. It became a surprise that it was Senator Thraex who ordered to have her under observation. She had hoped their goal was the same and they both wanted to see Rome as a Republic.

“Acacius will be coming soon. I saw a transport of barbarians near the Colosseum today. If they're here, he will be home soon as well,” The younger woman smiled.

“Hopefully for longer this time. There is not much more land for Rome to conquer and not much more food in Rome to feed its citizens,” Lucilla had a look on her face that Marcella saw sometimes. She remembered the old times.

She only learned from stories about how it was under Marcus Aurelius' rule. Nobody ever said anything particularly bad about it. Even Lucilla was very open about the past. It brought the pain of losing what was dear to her and remembering much happier times when it was completely different now.

“We received a message from the palace. Geta and Caracalla want us to come to the games held in Acacius' honour and his victory for Rome,” Lucilla sighed seeing the look on her sister-in-law’s face. Rome's citizens weren't favourable towards their Emperor's but they did love the games. The only entertainment they were provided by the Empire.

“Emperor Caracalla will cry again because of his pet not playing with him and Emperor Geta will kill every gladiator he can. Such wonderful victory celebration,” Marcella murmured under her breath and looked into the sky. The weather was beautiful and she wished she could've been in the gardens instead.

“When are they expecting us to arrive?”

“It depends if Acacius returns for the night. If not, we go tomorrow. I believe The Twins had games prepared as soon as they heard he had won.”

Marcella had to agree. The Emperors were always prepared for games. Since they took over Rome started to decline in its prosperity. She often thought about the times when she was little and both of them, Marcus and she, were growing up on their father's property. They had an orchard with apples and cherries, their mother also planted figs and olives, the herbs were always the strongest scent around the house.

“Be strong Marcella,” Lucilla smiled as she held her hands. “Soon the fate may change.”

There was something in Lucilla’s voice that made her mysterious and reminded Marcella of the travelling seers. She never believed in the power of their sight, her mother taught her that only the gods held the power to see what was to come. But looking at her sister-in-law now, Marcella was pretty sure she got shivers. It was a little terrifying how Lucilla looked as if she would do unspeakable if it didn't work.

“My Ladies, shall we prepare your meal?”

Marcella nodded and then turned back to her rooms. There was no strength in her to speak to Lucilla anymore.

“Rome has enough people. It needs to feed them,” Acacius' clear distaste for the Emperors was evident in every word he spoke.

The servants looked at each other. They were children raised during Marcus Aurelius' final years and Emperor Commodus's power. They knew hate, lust for power and vile people fighting and killing just to be called more powerful. General was different, he was more focused on the people who did not interest the Emperors at all.

“We’ve decided that your victorious return shall be celebrated,” Emperor Geta said with his usual tone that was the only warning not to decline. “Games! For thirty days!”

Caracalla looked at his brother with the same maniacal glee in his eyes as his older twin possessed. Acacius swallowed and cursed in his thoughts. There was no way to change their minds especially since mindless killing was involved.

“I am most grateful, my Ceasars.”

“And where is your wife today? Did we not honour her enough to be here to welcome you?” Geta’s question made him freeze.

“I suppose my wife is along with my sister awaiting me in our house,” Acacius smiled tightly. He hated to mention Marcella close to Geta. The Emperor killed the last noble lady who caught his interest because of her age. “With your permission, I would like to join them soon.”

Caracalla laughed and clapped his hands suddenly. They turned to see how one of the testers choked on the poisoned food. Acacius’ eyes widened when the twins dismissed him and walked closer to watch the dying man.

“Both of them are children holding power that could burn the world down,” he stated as his chariot moved among the alleys of Rome. His trusted captain Oracus was listening at his side. “They care not for prosperity, love, hate, hunger, thirst. Just for power.”

They rode by the Colosseum and Acacius watched as children gathered close to the entry of the underground. He raised his hand to stop the chariot and got out, people who saw him bowed their heads. He bowed back with a slight nod. The men from Numidia ought to be brought to the Colosseum by now.

“General,” A man ran to him. “It is a surprise to see you here.”

“Indeed. I want to see the newest gladiators. The ones from Numidia.”

The man frowned and nodded, turned around to walk away when he paused suddenly.

“We only have three of them.”

Acacius let out a breath. He thought it might happen. Most probably didn’t survive the travel and some died at the province at the training grounds.

“Show them to me,” he stated.

They walked to the cells and past long tables where some of the gladiators sat. They looked at him in his white and gold armour as if he came from the gods. He remained stone-faced, he did not want to show them how weak that armour made him. They stopped close to the medical room.

“Ravi, we have General Acacius here for the barbarians,” he called as he pushed the door open.

Inside two men were sitting with their eyes closed, bandages around their forearms and torso. One was being stitched, his wound irritated and bleeding. He raised his eyes and Acacius was surprised to see them being blue. This was not a colour common to Numidia. He narrowed his own eyes and stared at the man and then at the other two.

“I have come to offer you a choice,” he spoke and turned to Theio. “I’ll talk to them alone. You may leave.”

The man seemed stunned for a second, then he opened his mouth to say something but Acacius’ glare made him turn around and leave the room.

“Ravi,” he nodded at the medicus.

“General,” Ravi parroted his tone and smirked.

“I am offering you a way out of here. Join my legion and you shall be taken from here even today. You’ll be given housing and food and will be paid.”

Two sitting next to the wall exchanged glances before they sneered.

“I would rather die than be a servant to this ‘Empire’.”

“They’re loyal,” Acacius head snapped to the blue-eyed man. “They swore they’d listen to their leader and until he’s dead, they will follow him.”

“And I assume it is you,” Acacius looked at how the man smirked and raised his head.

The features on his face didn’t fit the rest of the people from Numidia. If Acacius didn’t know better he would say he was looking at a citizen of Rome. Someone familiar even.

“They won’t go. They stay and will kill as many of you in that area as possible. So will I.”

He stood and took a step towards Acacius. Hate, his gaze held pure hate.

“Very well then,” Acacius turned and left the room. Before he left he heard Ravi gathering his medicine and speaking:

“You’re too harsh, my friend. The General is a tool for the Emperors but that does not mean he wants to be one. You should think about it.”

[writingblogsandothers]

Poll for Next Work!

We're nearing the end of my first work, and I really can't thank you all enough for your kind words and encouragement over the course of the week!

This is out of my comfort zone to publish writing at all, so for what it's worth, you have all given me a new hobby and I thank you for that.

Okay! Now onto the important bit: What's Next?!

I want you all to decide and have influence over what you want to read next.

Poll closes in 3 days so get voting now!!

Anything not in the poll, leave a message/comment below.

Sending all the love X

[l4vines]

exactly!! where are the paul/ lucius fics? i need them NOW PLEASEE

my mind cannot comprehend the lack of paul mescal fics in here… LIKE IT SEEMS IMPOSSIBLE people are not writing their asses off about him and his characters

[thetormentita]

ad victoriam

Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo. — Virgil.

Pairings: Ofc x Lucius Verus, Ofc x Emperor Geta, Ofc x Marcus Acacius (platonic)

A/n: out of a pretty fucking large request comes a pretty fucking large answer, and we all have to thank @mmkkzz for the initiative 😌😌. Enjoy!

Warnings: each chapter has its own warnings.

Part I (Mature +16)

[thetormentita]

ad astra per aspera

Dulce et decorum est pro cor cupiditatis mori.

Pairings: Ofc! Princess x Lucius, Ofc! Princess x General Marcus Acacius, Lucilla x General Marcus Acacius, Ofc! Princess x Ofc! Slave.

A/n: Lo and behold! Many people have asked (well, nobody really tbh, not that i care that much hahahah), and here is the first fic out of the ASOIAF universe. I started to write this about 1a bazillion ago in high school, and my extra cutie pie encouraged me to give it a twist and succumb to our newest romans and their deeds. Enjoy!

A/n2: I haven’t seen the film by the time I’m writing this, and surely (if not 100%) some characters or most of the canon/historical ones are ooc.

Warnings: each chapter has its own, but expect violence, angst, some fluff, smut and some historical inaccuracies (sorry not sorry).

Tagging list: if you want to be tagged, just send me an ask 😊.

To @maegelletargaryen 🫶🏼🫶🏼.

Prœmium. (Mature +16)

[thetormentita]

ad victoriam - part 1

Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo. — Virgil.

Pairings: Ofc x Lucius Verus, Ofc x Emperor Geta, Lucilla x General Marcus Acacius, Ofc x General Marcus Acacius (platonic)

A/n: our starting point! before going under the cut, be aware that some characters may be ooc and you can consider this a proper au.

Warnings: angst, some merrymaking?, mentions of slavery, mentions of war, geta himself should be considered a warning, babes

Tagging list: @mmkkzz @novaursa @maegelletargaryen

Every single time she lays on her bed to find some rest, but the Somnia are cruel and drive her to her mother’s villa, where the sound of clashing woods calls her attention.

It is always a warm afternoon, and close to the gardens are two kids, a lad and a lass, with wooden swords in hand as they play, emulating the great victories of Maximus Meridius, the greatest gladiator of his time.

They laugh. They shout. They squeal. They look happy.

Every single morning she wakes up with wet cheeks, the breaks of her heart still not fixed.

…

She closes her eyes when the sing of a lark reaches her ears, drawing a soft smile upon her face as she purrs to the touch of possibly the most powerful man in the world.

“You must be proud, mellita” he mumbles to her ear, the tip of his nose brushing her skin. “Soon your father will be back home. The Gods favour the brave, and the General is certainly one of them.”

Aurelia hums, letting him do.

“Of course, Augustus. I am eager to see him again after all this time.”

A whimper escapes her lips as his firm grip on her thigh and her waist makes her approach even more his chest, almost forcing to rest her head against his chest. Geta knows what he wants, and when he put his eyes on the daughter of the famed general Marcus Acacius, Aurelia knew she had to be as cunning as possible to protect the only thing she has: her family.

“So pliant. So perfect.” he muses as he lifts her face with thumb and index, softly grabbing her chin, claiming her with a longing kiss, enough to leave her breathless. Geta smiles against her lips when her hand softly cups his cheek, responding with a tenderness she pushes herself to have in order to make him believe she is utterly captivated by him.

All to protect her family.

…

The embraces of her mother are always soothing. She allows herself to close her eyes and take deep breaths, the scent of peonies filling her lungs, grounding her. It is a stark contrast to the world she navigates outside these walls, a world filled with deception and danger, where every move is a calculated step in a larger game of chess. Within these walls, with her mother’s arms around her, she finds a rare solace, a temporary respite from the masquerade she must perform each day.

“Marcus will be here soon” Lucilla’s voice is soft and fluid, her tone carrying a mix of both concern and reassurance, and Aurelia knows well the reason.

The sons of the late emperor Septimius Severus.

They have a fixation upon General Acacius, the brilliant military strategist who has garnered the respect and fear of both friend and foe alike. Acacius’s loyalty to the Severan dynasty is beyond question, but his influence among the legions and the Senate has grown so vast that it borders on the precipice of overshadowing the current rulers themselves, and Geta and Caracalla know it well enough to have the youngest of them put his eyes upon Acacius’s adoptive daughter.

“Then we must give him a warm welcome, mama.”

The arrival of the lord of the household is anticipated with a mix of excitement and apprehension. Far from home for so long, mother and child are divided between the joy of reunion and the palpable tension that his presence brings. Acacius, with his towering stature and commanding presence, has treated them well, even adopting Aurelia as his daughter and raising her as such, always keeping a smile for her, bringing her little presents here and there, truly cherishing the little black-haired girl that seemed to came tangled in the stola of the daughter of the great Marcus Aurelius.

The arrival of Acacius catches Aurelia tucking her braid up into a tidy bun with a silver stick, and she rushes to greet him, her face lighting up with joy, almost running to the atrium, getting a disapproval look from her mother, who always insists on maintaining a composed demeanor befitting a young lady of her status. However, Aurelia is not able to contain her excitement upon seeing her mother’s husband, ready to drink from his tales as if they were rich liquid.

As soon as the famed general climbs down his horse, an imposing black steed, befitting of someone like him, Marcus slightly hurries his step to greet the most important women in her life.

“Welcome home, my dear” a chaste kiss is enough for the moment for husband and wife, making Marcus quickly shift his attention to ‘his little Hippolyta’, a title he had fondly given Aurelia due to her adventurous spirit and fierce independence, much like the legendary Amazonian queen. Aurelia’s eyes light up as if she were just a little girl, and his arms surround her in a warm embrace that speaks volumes of the affection between them, making her feel safe and protected. “One day, there will not be any Aurelia left to squeeze, my general.” Lucilla adds with a hint of laugh in her voice.

“But for the moment there is, right?” he kisses her hair, smiling against the soft strands.

A light dinner with Marcus’s favourite dishes waits for them, and during it Aurelia makes sure that she gets as much information as she wants, asking pointed questions about his recent campaign, the conditions of the troops, and the political atmosphere in Rome. Marcus, accustomed to the battlefield’s harsh realities rather than the intricacies of political maneuvering, tries his best to satisfy her curiosity. He talks of the strategies employed, the victories hard won, and the losses that weigh heavily on his heart.

“The men fought bravely,” Marcus begins, his voice tinged with the pride and sorrow only those who have led men into battle can truly understand. “Each victory we claimed was not just a mark of territorial gain but a testament to their resilience and courage.”

“And the swag? Something interesting?” Aurelia interjects with a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes, shifting the conversation towards the spoils of war, a topic that, albeit less noble, has always fascinated her. Marcus can’t help but notice the sudden spark in her demeanor, a stark contrast to the somber tone their conversation had taken on earlier when discussing the harsh realities of war. He smiles, recognizing the gleam of intrigue that warfare’s treasures often ignite in even the most stoic of warriors and scholars alike.

“Well, the swag,” Marcus begins, leaning back slightly as he searches his memories for the most captivating pieces of loot they had encountered during their campaigns. “Isn’t it too late? Tomorrow I must parade myself through the whole city and get honoured by the emperors.”

“Oh, come on!”

A sly smile curves the general’s lips as his gaze crosses his daughter’s.

…

Known sights come to his mind as his eyes try their best to observe even the tiniest detail around, a hard task due to the fact that he has to climb the eroded walls to reach the tiny hole on the wall.

“Lad.”

He knows it goes for him, despite it he shakes a hand trying to shush the man who calls him.

“Lad.”

“Shut up.”

He frowns, taking a deep breath as his mind betrays him with memories buried deep down, when his mother would take them to the amphitheater to watch the gladiators. He allows himself a little smile as he closes his eyes for a momemt, remembering the girl with the hair with the colour of the darkest night and the prettiest eyes he has ever seen.

“Lad” he returns to the wall, sitting on the floor with his back against the stones, his gaze upon the man now silent before him. The man’s impatience seems to dissipate, replaced by a curiosity sparked by the sudden shift in his demeanor. “What did you see?”

How could he describe it. How could he tell him about what lays out there?

His eyes are upon the door of the cell, pondering his next words carefully. “It is magnificent” he starts slowly, his voice a whisper, as if afraid to disturb the serene atmosphere the word itself conjured. “Buildings around us. Statues. Temples. During the day, the sunlight dances across their surfaces in a way that makes the entire city seem alive. And at night,” his voice grows slightly stronger, fueled by the vivid images in his mind, “the whole place transforms. Lights flicker on, one by one, like stars coming to life in the night sky. Around us the city sleeps, but when the sun is up in the sky thousands of people emerge, like a hive buzzing with life.”

“You have been here before.”

“Aye.” his voice is a whisper, silent and deep, carrying the weight of memories long held.

“Where are we, lad?”

“Where men fight for death or glory.”

He clenches his jaw, his eyes distant, as if he's looking through the thick walls of the present into a vast, tumultuous past. His fists clench at his sides, grasping the chains as if they are the only anchor keeping him in the now, preventing his mind from drifting back to those days of smoke and fire, blood and steel.

He has to blink twice to notice the hand before him, extended in solidarity, a silent offer of companionship in a moment heavy with unspoken understanding. The man next to him has his gaze upon him, steady and unwavering, a silent testament to shared hardships and unvoiced promises of support.

“Cassius.”

He takes the hand, feeling the strength and warmth that pulses through the grip, a stark contrast to the cold, hard reality before them.

“Hanno.”

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Legionary

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x Lucius Verus x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Marcus returns to his hometown while traveling with his young soldier who's eager to learn from him. Good thing he knows your domus is always open to him. Warnings: SMUT, bad Roman definitions, MMF, softdom!Marcus Acacius, oral (f&m receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie, lots of praise kink, m!masturbation, wine. Words: 3,400

Trēs Masterlist Masterlist

A/N: Oh hi! This is my first fic in almost two months, it's been a whirlwind of a time in my personal life, but that Gladiator trailer lit SOMETHING FILTHY in me. I know VERY LITTLE about roman times, other than the stuff I learned years and years ago in history and bits from Assassins Creed games. I know angel wasn’t really a “thing” back then but I’m using it. This hasn't been beta read and this is my first dive into MMF. A big shout out to @pascalispretty for some language help and of course @ohheypedrito for always being my sounding board. A few definitions are below to note before reading.

municipium: town | domus: home | hospitium: hotel | subligaculum: underwear 

The gate creaks as it swings open, interrupting your respite.

“Angel” the man’s familiar deep voice sends a shiver down your spine, his dark brown eyes focus on your wide eyes. 

“M-Marcus,” your voice shakes when you rise and bow to him. Ten years since you’ve seen him, Marcus Acacius, your municipium’s pride and joy, now a powerful general, commanding armies across the battlefield. Now he stands in front of you just as handsome as he was all those years ago… the hold on your heart returns. 

You’re a rarity in your municipium, running a small hospitium out of your domus hosting weary travelers and soldiers perfectly capable of doing everything on your own, yet the sight of Acacius sends you right back to the last time you saw him… your teenage crush disappearing beyond the horizon as he heads for war. 

Gray hairs streak his lush, curly hair, he’s just as beautiful as he was all those years ago. 

“No need to do that angel,” grabbing your hand he brings it to his mouth, you sink at the touch of his lips on your hand. “It’s been so long.”

“Yes, quite long,” your voice squeaks out.

“Lucius and I need a room,” Marcus nods towards the handsome blue eyed man behind him. The vision of them sends a spark to your core, corded muscles, golden skin, strength exuding out of both of them, they’re a dream. “We’re here for the night.”

___

The wine flows, Marcus is just as warm and comforting as you remember. The attraction between you crackles and sparks like the fire burning in the corner of the room. 

A slight touch against your back turns into a hand laid across your hip, pulling your body closer to his. Lucius watches all of it from across the room, his blue eyes glowing in the aureate light of the flames.

You invite all of the attention put forth by the two men, the sweet wine loosens the three of your inhibitions, laughter growing louder, stories and confessions turning more risque, Marcus’ touch searing hotter against your skin. 

“So, angel, it looks like you still haven’t found anyone good enough to have your heart?” His tone is teasing, his smile infectious.

“Not yet, still haven’t found someone as handsome or as good as you, you know all of my choices around here are nothing compared to you,” you giggle. 

His eyes darken at your words, a light joke turns serious at your confession.

Turning to him, the whole room, including his blue eyed companion, disappears. Your breath hitches at the look he gives you. Deep, dark, brooding, his pouty lips cocked up in a smirk. The look invites you to confess further. 

“I’ve thought about you every day since you left all those years ago. You pulled me apart and then left me alone to try to find someone else. You know nobody could have ever compared to you… to my first.”

His hand finds your cheek, you lean into the rough texture of his digits, eyes welling with all of the tears you refused to shed through the years. 

“Don’t speak like that angel, I’m here now. I’m here tonight. I’m here for you.” Your eyes follow Acacius’ as he looks over at Lucius, your sorrow replaced by wanton lust when you hear his voice drop deeper, “We’re both here for you tonight.” 

A gasp leaves your lips at the suggestion, your eyes still trained on Lucius. 

“Is that what you want? Both of us tonight angel? Let me prove to you how much I’ve thought of you. How I’ve destroyed every being that stood between you and I. How my heart leapt out of my chest at the sight of you. Let me show my soldier what it means to pleasure a woman. Is that what you want?” A chaste kiss is left against your exposed shoulder. His words swirl through your head, sending a rush of slick between your legs.

“Yes Marcus,” you answer.  

“Good. Do you hear that soldier? Watch as her body reacts to me.” He grabs your chin, angling it up for his plush lips to surround yours, a sigh rolls through your body. You turn to putty in his hands, malleable and ready to form yourself into any shape he wishes. He turns towards his companion, your lips chasing his, the kiss wasn’t enough. “Now go ahead, ask her what she wants, soldier, listen to her.”

Lucius sits up straighter, his shoulders rise. He is a soldier, eager to listen to his commander. “What do you want?” His words melt through you, strong and powerful, just like Marcus.

You take what you want, they’re only here for one night. “I want you both to touch me.”

The chuckle Marcus lets out vibrates against your ear before he stands and helps you up.

“You hear that?” 

Lucius nods. 

“Then come closer Lucius, she wants us both.”

Marcus’ hand runs up your spine to the knot that keeps your body sheathed in your dress, one quick pull and the fabric pools on the floor. 

A river of blue roams your body as Lucius takes in your bare form. 

Marcus stands behind you pulling you against him, the metal on his uniform presses against your skin, you wish the appliques would sear against your skin as a reminder of this night forever.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Marcus’ deep timbre sends a wave of pleasure through your body. Goosebumps cover your skin. 

“Quite,” Lucius whispers.

“Speak up soldier, a woman like this deserves to hear your praise.”

“Quite,” he stands straighter. “She’s very beautiful.”

“You see Lucius, a woman needs to be touched gently and cared for.” His calloused hand slides across the soft skin between your breasts. “Too many men take what they want and ravage, without any concern for the pleasure of their partner.”

Lucius’ eyes roam your body, his tongue peaking out to wet his lips. You wonder if they taste sweet like Marcus’ lips… like wine and honey.

Your breasts are cradled between Marcus’ hands. “Do you like this angel?” A low approving groan escapes your mouth. “Touch her soldier.”

Another set of hands joins the exploration of your skin. Marcus leads a trail down your stomach and hips, less rough and smaller hands replace his, cupping your breasts, your nipples pebbling as he twists and pulls them. 

“You never want to start too soon, you want to work a woman up, get her nice and warmed up, make her wet between the legs. You're a big man Lucius, you want her to be soft and welcoming for you.” His hands move to your core, parting your folds, running a finger through your wetness. “That takes work,” whispers across your neck before his tongue licks a line across it.  

The last time he touched you like this he swore his love and devotion to you, repeated how he’ll miss you more than the Gods could comprehend come morning. He told you he’d come back for you, though you both knew it was a lie, as long as he kept touching you, you didn’t care what untruths left his mouth.

Now, years later, he’s back for the night, his finger teasing your clit and his mouth against your skin. 

“Touch Lucius, go on, I know he wants it, but he’s being a good man and not taking what isn’t his. Let him know you want him angel.”

You’re eager to listen, to please Marcus, just like you’re under his command too. Your hands reach out to feel the young soldier’s arms, Lucius’ biceps are firm, bright blue eyes dart up to yours at the first touch, his eyes shine like the sunniest summer sky, another gush of wetness pools against Marcus’ hand. His young squire reminds you of him years ago, youthful and bright eyed, muscular and soft skinned. His brawn would seem so much more intimidating if it wasn’t for his burly leader standing behind you with his hand between your legs. 

Lucius hisses when your hands run up his chest to wrap around his neck pulling him closer, his breath puffing against your face as your tongue darts out to lick his lips. His nose crashes against yours when you kiss him, his lips aren't as plush as Marcus’ but you were right, they too taste sweet. His tongue joins yours, your kisses turning messier while Marcus worships you, sticking two of his thick fingers inside you. 

You’re thankful for Marcus’ broad body against your back and Lucius’ hands against your chest, both of them propping you up while your legs grow shakier from the pleasure.

“Feel how she’s trembling against you soldier? You like how she’s sucking at your lips while I make her cum all over my fingers?” Lucius groans against your lips at Marcus’ words. Four hands work your body to a quick orgasm, your naked body rocking between the two military men, your pussy clenching Marcus’ fingers as a rush of warmth rolls across your limbs. Overwhelmed by their touch, you’ve never felt more powerful and powerless. 

“That’s a good angel,” Marcus whispers into your ear. His fingers pull out, a whimper flits out of your lips at the loss of fullness.

“Do you want to taste her soldier?” 

“Yes master.” 

Marcus wipes his fingers across your lips, Lucius grabs your chin before licking a line across your lips now glistening with your arousal, swirling his tongue around your mouth cleaning the tangy sweetness from your skin. 

“She tastes good, doesn’t she soldier?”

“Yes master.”

“Now,” Marcus easily lifts you into his arms, his hands resting against your bottom, splaying your legs open, your arms instinctively reaching back to wrap around his neck. “Really taste her, lick her clean, shove your tongue into her cunt. Go on.”

Lucius kneels in front of you, your body lies like a ragdoll pliant and hung across Marcus’ body ready for the young soldier’s taking. His nose bumps against your clit as he penetrates you with his tongue, spiraling it around your hole. His blue eyes burn a hole into your soul, your body relaxes further into Marcus’ hold as he devours your pussy. The general’s deep voice coaches him, ordering him to suck your clit, pump his tongue in you harder, savor the taste of you soaking his mouth. Your whine echoes across the concrete walls of your domus, hands clutching Marcus’ soft curls as Lucius grinds his tongue against your clit pulling another orgasm up, your body convulsing in the general’s arms, his hard chestplate bruising your back as your pussy floods Lucius’ mouth. 

Marcus kisses your hair, gently laying you down against the soft linen of your rug. 

Two Roman soldiers stand in front of you, your body splayed and disheveled by your two orgasms and the promise of more to come.

“You’ve done well son,” Marcus pats Lucius on the back. “Look how her pussy is sparkling in this light, isn’t she the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen? Now, let us undress for her. She deserves it.”

You muster the strength to prop yourself up watching the two men unbuckle their armor, exposing golden chests, Marcus’ peppered with more scars, a burlier canvas that has seen more battles. Lucius’ body is more delicate, tight skin wrapped around bulging muscles. The general and the soldier, both now removing their skirts and unwrapping their subligaculum. Sun warmed and tanned skin, miles of tense muscles built up by war, battle, and training. Their half hard cocks lay heavy between thick thighs, your mouth waters at the thought of both of them filling your mouth and cunt. 

Marcus slides a chair into the middle of the floor. “Take a seat, soldier.” Lucius nods and settles on the wood. “You’re going to watch her take what she wants from me.” 

Marcus sits on the floor, settling his back against the wall. 

“Come here angel.” 

Crawling towards him on shaky legs, you’ve dreamt of this vision, his legs spread wide, cock standing tall, hard, and leaking… waiting for you. The crease in his brow deepens, his focus beckoning you forward, now close enough to watch the flames of the fire flicker in the reflection of his dark brown eyes. He easily lifts you again, turning you to face Lucius, leaning your body against his before rubbing his cock along your sensitive cunt. 

A booming grunt swims through your ears as you slowly sink down on Marcus’ length, your eyes squeeze shut while your body slowly accepts him, you’re surrounded by him, his voice swimming in your ears, his hands gripping your hips, his chest slick with sweat supporting your knackered body, his cock stretching you wide open.

“Oh angel, you feel devine,” he smiles into your neck once you take him all in. “She feels so good soldier, show her how much you like watching her take my cock,” he growls.

“Yes master,” Lucius licks a line up his palm before wrapping his hand around himself, his body relaxing at his own touch. You lean forward, gripping your hands around Marcus’ well-muscled sturdy calves opening yourself up wider to his thrusts. Lucius strokes himself to the same pace of your pussy sliding up and down on his general, your eyes and his blue eyes locked in contact. 

Both men’s attention blooms inside of your chest, your heart quickening as Marcus pounds your pussy. The sound of his rising hips slapping against your ass meld with the noises of Lucius’ strokes flows through your ears like a beautiful song. Your mouth slacks open, garbled noises begin escaping your throat when Marcus circles a thick finger around your clit. Lucius twists at his head, pulling and biting his lip when he sees you come apart on his leader’s cock. Your orgasm decimates you, you feel like a lone enemy soldier, two two men leaving you defenseless and utterly devastated. Strength gives out, your shivering body collapses against Marcus’ legs. Lucius rushes over and gathers you, lifting you off of his leader, his eyes looking down at you concernedly, a weak, blissed out smile pulls at your lips. 

“She’s okay soldier, this is how you know you’re doing a good job. Feel how soft and pliant she is, how she’s molding to your arms?” Marcus rises, his cock still hard and throbbing as he sits on the chair. “Hold her, tell he she’s doing good. Let her rest a bit, there is still much for her… and you, to do tonight.” 

“You’re so good, so beautiful, I know why master calls you angel, you look like one.” 

You fight off the demons of exhaustion, staring up at Lucius’ strong jaw, rising to sit in his lap, his cock pressing against your ass as a reminder that there is still much work for you to do. Marcus’ lips form a smirk, his hands resting against thick thighs, cock still standing at attention. 

“Didn’t take long, did it angel?” Marcus leans forward slowly rising and sauntering over. He cradles his dick in his hands, tempting you while he squeezes along his shaft. “Hold her hair, soldier.”

Lucius gathers your hair in his hands, his movements are so delicate compared to Marcus’ brute force. They’re the perfect amalgamation of hard and soft. 

Marcus brings his cock to your lips, precum leaks from his tip on to your puckered lips, you welcome him into your mouth, opening wide for him to slide his shaft against your tongue. He tastes divine, salty and intoxicating. Your cheeks strain, mouth agape stuffing his fat cock in your mouth. The general only conquers what he knows he can take, and he knows he can take you for everything you have. He thrusts all of his power into you hitting the back of your mouth, leaving you gagging and streaming spit down your chin. Lucius gathers your hair in his fist, pulling against your scalp, you admire his bravery to also take what he wants, making it hurt a little for you. You want these men to use you, to deplete you, to fill you with their cum, you’ll wear it as a badge of honor, much like they do on their armor.

Marcus looks down at you, eyes filled with adoration, his cock fucking your mouth, spit still drooling out of the sides of your mouth, tears welling in your eyes. You feel like a mess but the way he smiles at you blooms something bright inside of you, your cheeks hollow around his girth, sucking him harder, hands planting against his ass pulling him even deeper inside the cavern of your mouth.

Marcus yanks himself out of your mouth, leaving you gasping and mourning the feeling of his cock. “If you continue, I’m going to cum down your throat, sweet girl, and I’m not ready yet.” He plops back down on the chair, throwing the back of his wrist against his forehead wiping the sweat off his brow, you want to taste his skin. 

Lucius lets go of your hair, his hands wrapping around your torso, pushing you back to rest against him, a sigh of contentment leaves your mouth. 

“Touch her soldier, tell me if she’s still wet and waiting.” 

Lucius trails his hand down to between your legs, swiping against your sensitive flesh, you moan at the contact. 

“So wet,” he whispers incredulously, “I think she’s ready, master.” 

“Good. Can you get on all fours, angel?”

You nod, leaning forward, your quick repose giving you the strength to support yourself. 

“Take her soldier, go ahead. Conquer her. Keep your eyes on me angel.” 

You grin wide towards Marcus as Lucius slides himself in you. He’s nothing like his general, whose large cock left you wide open for his subordinate. Lucius’ exhales cools the overheated skin on the back of your neck as he folds himself over you. 

His movements are slower, more reserved, he’s holding back. 

“Fuck me soldier,” you order, legs widening, hips bucking back towards him. 

“Good!” Marcus barks and claps his hands. “You heard her, take her, she wants all of you, take her soldier,” Marcus snarls. 

“Yes master,” Lucius croaks before spearing you with his cock, giving you the lucious friction you’ve been craving from him. 

Marcus kneels down, propping your head up in his hands. Your hands grip the edge of the rug, grounding yourself in the moment of bliss. Lucius’ taut thighs knock against yours with each thrust. Your whimpers are swallowed by Marcus, his lips pepper your face with kisses in between words of praise for taking his soldier so well. Your knees burn as Lucius grinds his hips against you, pulling himself fully out before sinking himself all the way in. Marcus gives you one last chaste kiss before replacing his lips against yours with his cock. Your moans vibrate against the soft skin of him, tasting what’s left of yourself and his precum. You’re so incredibly close, shattered by the two men’s cocks taking your mouth and your pussy for everything you have, gushing from both holes to satisfy the brave soldiers. Your eyes see stars as they roll back into your head, Marcus grips your hair as he fucks your face, your nose hitting the nest of curls as he slaps the back of your throat with his cock. ‘Use me, use me, use me,’ are the only words that rattle around your brain. Shockwaves soar through your body, your pussy clenches around Lucius’ cock milking him as he cums inside your pussy, his voice chanting your name against your skin. 

Marcus lets out a guttural growl pulling his cock from your mouth. 

“Sit down and hold her against your lap soldier,” Marcus snaps. 

Lucius perches himself on the floor, placing you on his lap, the both of you still coming down from your shared climax. 

Marcus rushes over, pumping himself to his peak, his eyes squinting, upper lip snarling as he shoots thick white ropes of cum across your face and tits. The three of you collectively pant for air, a shared overwhelming feeling of euphoria plants inside of your hearts. 

“Now, clean her up soldier,” Marcus commands, taking a seat on the chair and folding his arms across his chest. 

___

Part Two

[fallinlovewithmyflaws]

Just watched Gladiator II, actually obsessed with Lucius and am so surprised there are no fanfics on here. Therefore, I have decided to write one.

Hopefully this finds the right audience x

[seven-seas-of-rhye-bread]

A Fate Worse Than Death- Part 1 of ?

Weee okay I've shirked the responsibility of my big girl job this afternoon to work on something that is kind of a mix of a few ideas that lovely readers suggested. There's a few different ways this could go in my head, so I've got some planning to do (suggestions always welcome...)

There will be more than just Geta in this one, so please, if General Acacius and/or Lucius Verus are your faves, STAY IN LINE.

Warning: None so far...?

Disclaimer: ONCE AGAIN-- I am merely a dreamy, horny bitch-- this is not historically accurate besides what google could tell me in the first couple results. I am here for a juicy, slow burning time, not a historically accurate time.

The cart rattled and swayed down the steep road leading into Rome. It carried 10 prisoners, including Aia, from all across the northern part of the empire. It had been a journey full of sickness and hunger, she had lost count of how long they had been traveling-- a month? 2 months?

She could feel the pit in her stomach grow as the view of the Colosseum, once far off in the distance, was getting closer. What would become of her? Aia tried to imagine each fate that could await her and every one she imagined was worse than the last. 

"oh look at this one!" a dirty Roman man clung to the cart and touched her hair.

She tried to hit him but he jumped down quickly upon seeing her fist pull back. Was this to be her life now? Fending for herself at every turn? She fought back tears for the thousandth time since she had been captured. Rome would never see her cry. 

As they approached the city proper, carts of the caravan fell away, until it was only the prisoner carts left. They had made their way to what she assumed was the slave market. Romans dressed in elaborate togas roamed the market place, inspecting slaves like they were pieces of fruit-- it made Aia sick. 

"Alright! Everyone out!" it was the grating voice of her captor, Titus. 

Aia was herded out into the market and made to stand in a line with others that had made the journey with her. Titus grabbed Aia's arm and dragged her through the maze of stalls to a grand tent that stood on the outskirts of the market.

Titus lifted the tent flap and pushed her in.

A man sat back on a divan, nursing a goblet of wine, "Titus! What have you got for me today?" the man stood up and greeted him.

 " Well, Faunus-- this is Albina, a very pretty thing we picked up in Gaul. She was trying to sabotage food stores at a legion outpost up there. She's a feisty one, put up a good fight before we could subdue her. She's quiet though, you won't get much backtalk from her."

It was true, Aia hadn't spoken a word to Titus or anyone else in the caravan for that matter, since she was captured. 

"Albina! Will I see her beauty and radiance when she's... clean?" Faunus asked, surveying her with an air of disgust. 

Titus laughed, " once she's clean, you'll see why I brought her to you!"

Aia's stomach dropped, what was she destined for in Faunus's grip? Why would she need to be beautiful?

 'Well Titus, you have never let me down yet with the women you bring to me-- do we have ourselves a deal? At our usual rate?"

Faunus and Titus shook hands and roared with laughter, like old friends. What had happened to the other women Titus brought to Faunus? Aia was taken to a thermae and ordered to clean herself up, with the help of an attendant and under the watchful eye of Faunus's henchman. In spite of her worries, she allowed herself to enjoy the hot water, the beautiful smelling soaps and oils that the attendant washed and coated her in. However, it was never lost on her the fact of her situation: she was being prepared for someone.

The question was, for whom?

A painful ache of memory found it's way into Aia's mind-- this preparation-- it reminded her of her wedding night. She pushed the memory of that night, and her beloved husband, Dago, out of her mind.

   As the sun set over Rome, Aia was further prepared by one of Faunus's slaves.

She was a kind looking older woman, who smiled sadly at her. She dressed Aia in a beautiful stola and brushed her hair back into a sweeping style. "

Do you know where I'm going?" Aia whispered to the woman, desperate for any hint of what awaited her.  

The woman answered barely above a whisper, "the palace"

"Please do you know anything more of what awaits me?" Aia pleaded.

"Emperor Geta..." the woman whispered singularly. 

So that was her fate: to be a plaything for one of the twin rulers. Aia felt a numbness seep into her being at the thought. Even in Gaul the cruelty of the emperors was widely known. 

Despair wanted to burrow deep inside her, but as scared as she was, she promised herself then and there that Geta would not break her. No matter what happened, she knew who she was, and not Geta, nor anyone in Rome, would cause her to forget herself. 

The door opened suddenly and swiftly, causing both Aia and the old woman to start. It was Faunus barging in, a sickening smile on his face. 

"Titus was certainly right! You were worth every denari, Geta will be pleased!" he exclaimed to himself. 

He grasped Aia's face roughly and looked her in the eyes, "yes...you'll make him a very happy man, I'm sure..." 

------

The Imperial palace was an intimidating and domineering presence in the darkness of night, and Aia's heart thumped wildly as Faunus's carriage pulled them along the road up Palatine hill.

" You are not to speak unless spoken to-- which shouldn't be a problem, since you seem to be mute!" he chuckled to himself before continuing, " You will obey Emperor Geta's every command in the instant he states them. You must maintain your beauty, of course you'll have other slaves to assist with that... and don't even think about trying to escape-- this is as much a fortress as it is a palace, and you will be caught-- and severely punished."

The carriage came to a halt and Faunus ordered her out, a guard immediately taking tight hold of her arm. Before the carriage pulled away, Faunus raised a finger towards her, "if you somehow displease Emperor Geta and you tarnish my reputation as a trader... I promise you, I will kill you."

And with that, the carriage disappeared into the night. 

The guard escorted Aia to a back entrance into a kitchen and through several hallways. She was in a maze,-- a beautiful, terrifying maze of marble columns, grand mosaic floors and frescoes at every turn. Incense burned in every corner creating an intoxicating haze that made her slightly dizzy.

They rounded a final corner where a sentry stood outside a magnificent set of doors. The guard released his grip on her arm and walked away, without a single word. 

Aia was now on her own. 

The sentry stepped aside and Aia approached the doors, turning the intricate handle of one and pushing it open with great effort. To her surprise and great relief, the vast room was empty.

The sentry pulled the heavy door closed behind her as she stepped further in. She had never in her life been in the presence of such opulence and it overwhelmed her.

A small pond stood front and center and she could catch the glimmer of small fish in the light cast from the oil lamps; the bed, which seemed to loom ominously to Aia, was larger than any she had seen before, the frame cast in bronze and decorated intricately with mother of pearl. She found herself lost in thought, taking her new surroundings when she heard the creaking sound of the door opening. 

Geta walked in with an air of confidence that Aia found immediately off-putting. He smiled when he saw her and rubbed his hands together as if he was about to devour her.

"You.. are beautiful" he stated singularly, surveying her head-to-toe and up again. He had clearly expected a reaction from her, but Aia stood stock still, mostly out of fear, as much as she would hate to admit it. 

He gave her an amused look, " what is your name?" 

Aia again stood still, not saying a word. Geta stepped towards her and she caught the scent of myrrh.

"Your name." his voice had lost it's amused edge and Aia recalled Faunus's warning.

 "Albina" she answered quietly. 

"Albina" he repeated with a smile, satisfied for at least the moment.

He took a seat in a lavish, carved chair by the pond, not taking his eyes off her. 

"And what corner of this glorious empire are you from?" She could feel her fist clench slightly, a movement that Geta caught.

He met her eyes again and smiled cruelly, " what conquered land are you from?"

" Gaul." 

"Ah, a beauty from Gaul. Faunus always knows how to please me," he exclaimed with a clap that reverberated off the impossibly tall ceilings. She winced at the sound, the nausea and nervousness ever mounting in her stomach. 

"Albina... Albina.." he said to himself as if tasting the name.

He sat up very suddenly and smiled at her, "Now, I venture to guess that as a prize caught in Gaul.. your real name isn't Albina, is it?"

Aia said nothing and kept her face neutral. 

"What is your real name then?"

Aia again said nothing.

 " Tell me your real name, now."

She could see a flush of anger rise in his face as he stared her down. 

"Guard!" he shouted in an instant, causing Aia to nearly jump out of her skin.  

The sentry walked in and Geta beckoned him closer till he was whispering in the guard's ear. She could hear nothing but the sound of her heart beating wildly.

Geta dismissed the guard who then took Aia by the arm, leading her hastily out.

Had she sealed her fate?

Tagging @bridgertonbee1814 and @quuinyoung

Let me know if anyone wants to be tagged for part 2.

[seven-seas-of-rhye-bread]

Feeling the itch to write something Gladiator 2 adjacent but currently have no ideas 😭 if anyone has any fic recommendations that they’d like to see, please let me know

xx

[seven-seas-of-rhye-bread]

Lucius Verus x F!OC (Cassia)- Part 2

They're baccckkkk! Still finishing the outline for the rest of "A Fate Worse Than Death", but still wanted to write something today, so here is another fic with Lucius and our fave thermae attendant, Cassia.

Warning: Smut smut smut-- pinv, oral (male receiving), fingering, angsty longing etc etc. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE!

Disclaimer: dont @ me with historical accuracies-- its not that I don't care, it's that my brain only has the capacity for smut when I'm in this kind of feral mood.

A/N: Yes, I know there's not really an ending, but the good stuff is there. My brain just stops after my characters cum, I can't help it, it's a PROBLEM.

Once again, very lightly proof-read, sorry xx

Cassia watched the moon rise over Rome sitting on the steps of the thermae portico, another day come and gone. It had been another busy one as Roman citizens were feeling a sense of renewed hope for the future, eager to discuss the future of the city with one another within the walls of the baths. The city had been buzzing since the rightful emperor Lucius took the throne, stories spreading about the gladiator-turned-emperor.

Cassia had listened to Alba in disbelief, in their small shared room one night, as she relayed the fantastical stories she heard in the marketplace earlier that day. The gladiator champion-- yes, Hanno-- was Lucilla's lost son, rightful heir to the empire. Cassia had laughed at Alba's tale, she couldn't believe such a rumor, her friend must have misheard. But as the days and weeks passed, it was confirmed time and time again by bathers, and by the fact that Hanno had not returned to the thermae. She had slept with a Roman emperor-- no one would believe her if she told, except Alba-- who had blushed bright pink with excitement when Cassia regaled her with the story. 

And now Alba waved as she crossed the courtyard towards their living quarters, her silhouette illuminated against the fading lamp light. Cassia was about to get up and follow Alba when she saw their master, Italus, walking at a furious pace towards her.

He wasn't exactly kind, but he wasn't cruel like other masters in the city, as long as she did her job well, he let her be, so the look on his face was cause for concern. 

"Italus, good evening.." she said standing up to greet him, hoping that a civil start to the conversation would be heeded.

"Who do you know in the palace?" he demanded, his brow furrowed. 

"What do you mean?" Cassia asked-- she had never set foot on Palatine hill, how would she know someone in the palace?

 "I've received a summons for you from the palace! There is a guard here ready to escort you."

Cassia was at a loss, she never rubbed shoulders with elites, especially anyone residing in the palace. But it was then she realized it could only be Hanno-- or Lucius, now, she supposed. She kept quiet though, not wanting to divulge her history with the new emperor. 

"It.. must be a mistake, how would I know someone there?"

She could tell Italus was suspicious, but she knew that he could not reject a request from the palace-- even if it was a mistake.

 As he turned away hastily, he shouted back to her "Go change.. I don't need you embarrassing me in front of whoever has summoned you."  Cassia did change, with help from Alba, into her nicest tunic, in a deep saffron shade. Alba quickly brushed Cassia's hair and pinched her cheeks, bringing the slightest flush to them. She hurried to the main entrance where a guard was waiting next to a carriage. He said not a word but helped her in.

Cassia's stomach and mind turned the whole way there. When Hanno-- Lucius-- left the thermae for the last time, he had kissed her gently and taken a moment to just be in her grasp. She hadn't known at the time that he was only a day or two away from changing the future of the Roman empire.

It seemed so simple, a gladiator and a bathhouse servant, it was certainly nothing new, but she saw everything in a different light now. He was no longer more or less equal to her-- he was an emperor. He surely had everything-- and everyone- at his disposal now, but he still wanted her. Cassia wished her heart didn't swell with hope at this thought-- this was a whole other beast itself. She never wanted to be a concubine, never wanted to be at the beck and call of a man-- but was this now her fate? She was, after all, answering his call. 

The carriage came to a stop at the front of the palace, where she was helped out and led to the complex of grand buildings that made up the imperial palace. The servant who met her at an imposing archway led her through halls and rooms of unspeakable magnificence. Cassia had to remind herself, she was not here to admire the frescoes and mosaic floors. They arrived outside a set of doors, the servant opening one and motioned for her to enter.

Cassia could feel her heart pounding as she stepped across the threshold into a room, lit with countless lamps that reflected against the gold leaf that seemed to adorn every corner, but she didn't take note of any further details, as her eyes trained on him, standing by the entrance to a courtyard. 

She stood still near the door, not sure what she should do in the presence of an emperor. A radiant smile flashed across his face, as if she had materialized from the heavens. 

"You're here" he declared with satisfaction and what Cassia noted was a hint of relief. 

" I don't think I had a choice." she said quietly, still standing in the same spot.

His face fell with confusion, "why do you say that?"

"Refusing a summons from the palace isn't something one does." she explained, her heart full of so many different emotions-- wariness, apprehension, happiness at seeing him again-- unsure of how to act around him, now that he was emperor. 

Lucius walked towards her then. He looked like the same man she had known at the thermae, except dressed in vibrantly embroidered tunic and no longer covered in bruises and blood. 

"You came here... out of obligation?" he asked, an edge of disappointment in his voice.

He was standing near, but kept his distance from Cassia. She was honest with him, "Not only out of obligation."

A hint of a smile flashed across his face, and Cassia couldn't help but smile to herself. 

"What am I to call you now?" she asked, the knot in her stomach loosening in his presence.

 He gave another small smile, " whatever you want to call me."

She took a step towards him, "Caesar?... Imperator?...Hanno...?"

He laughed heartily at this last one, "you can call me Lucius."

Lucius stepped closer to Cassia and grabbed her hand, "I'm glad you came.. I had wanted to call on you sooner, but I wasn't sure if I should."

She felt comfort in the fact that he was also apprehensive, aware of each of their statuses in this world now.

"And why did you call me here?" she ran her fingers through his hair, a move he leaned into with eyes closed, "I don't think you need a bath..."

He gave a laugh and pulled her in close, his eyes searching hers, before he whispered, "you know why..."

Lucius met her lips with a sigh that stirred something in Cassia. She could feel relief in his kiss, and urgency to be as close to her as he could. His tongue brushed her lower lip and she met him with her own. Cassia kissed him as if it was the last time she would ever kiss him, or anyone, for that matter-- with a hunger, a desire to feel everything with Lucius so intensely that it would be burned into her memory forever. 

He pulled away reluctantly and led Cassia to the lavish bed that was centered just so that the moonlight shown on it through the open courtyard. Lucius pulled her in once more, untying the belted knot at her waist before turning Cassia around so her back was against his chest.

She could feel his cock, already fully hard and she hadn't even touched him yet. Lifting the fabric of her tunic, his hands, still calloused and rough from fighting, found her core.

He made slow circles around her clit, leaning into the rhythms that made her moan. Cassia grasped at him behind her, as he placed bites down her neck and collarbone. He slipped two fingers in her and pumped them in and out slowly. 

"You're already so wet for me..." he growled in her ear and retreated from within her.

 "Lucius..." Cassia breathed, her nails now digging into the side of his neck. She felt weak with pleasure, resting herself against his body.

Cassia grasped his hand as he pulled back from under her tunic, taking his fingers, still slick with her, into her own mouth. She hummed as she sucked herself off his fingers. She could hear a throaty groan from Lucius at her action and she turned back around to face him.

His mouth crashed into hers, desperate to taste what was left of her wetness. Cassia grasped at his elaborate tunic, helping him to pull the weighty fabric up and over his head.

She took a step back, pulling off her own tunic before casting a glance at his body. He might be emperor now, but he was riddled with scars-- some old, some newer, still healing. Cassia passed light fingers over his arms, feeling the taut, warm muscles, then moving her hands over his shoulders and chest.

Lucius's eyes fluttered closed, relaxing deeply at her touch. She felt along his cock with the lightest touch, feeling it twitch at the feather light feel. 

He kept his eyes closed, he breathed, " don't tease me.." 

She let her hand close around his shaft and replied, "I would never tease the emperor."

Cassia guided him back to sit on the bed while she got to her knees. Placing kisses and small bites up his strong thighs, she worked Lucius gently with her hand before taking his length into her mouth.

His cock was warm inside her mouth, filling her up to her throat, savoring the feeling and taste of him in her mouth. 

Cassia," he moaned, "Cassia, oh gods..."

 She pulled back, his cock making a pop as it left the velvety warmth of her mouth. Cassia sucked on the tip while stroking his shaft with one hand and gently massaging his weighty balls with her other.

Lucius grasped the back of her head, wrapping his hand around her hair and pulling gently. In a moment, he sat up on her elbows and looked down at her, his eyes heavy with lust, " I can't come until I have you."

She placed gentle kisses around the head of his cock, giving it one final suck before climbing on the bed. Lucius straddled her as soon as she lay back, spreading her legs open for him.

He held the tip of his cock against her cunt, rubbing it against her clit making Cassia squirm with pleasure underneath him. "Please, Lucius..." she moaned as she grasped her own breast, feeling the need to do something-- anything-- to feel pleasure. 

He dragged his cock up and down her cunt once more, gathering her wetness before he leaned down over her. Both of them stilled for a moment, simply looking into each other's eyes, their breathing was in unison now.

Lucius positioned his cock at her wet entrance and pushed in, slowly filling her up. Cassia felt her walls stretch with his length and thickness, breathing through the intensity of the stretch until he was fully in her.

He started slow and deep with his thrusts, eliciting a low moan into his ear, somehow making him even harder. He picked up his pace when she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him into her as deep as he could go.

Lucius placed one leg up over his shoulder, burrowing even deeper into her. Cassia arched her back into him, her breathing becoming shallow and ragged. He could tell by the way her cunt clenched around his that she was going to come soon.

Cassia held onto his arms as he continued to fuck down into her, hearing her gasp his name as he felt her approach her orgasm. He followed soon after with his own climax, crying out as he collapsed on top of her.

"I'm crushing you, I'm sorry..." he said breathlessly, attempting to roll off of her but she stopped him.

"Don't... not yet," Lucius let himself rest back into her arms.