The moon is at its zenith when Antony, without asking permission, brushes past the hides at the entrance to Brutus´ tent and ducks inside.
Brutus looks up, startled. Antony?’ he spits out, angrily. What are you?’
Antony slips a hand over Brutus´ mouth. Ssh,’ he says, wouldn´t want the soldiers to get curious, would we?’ Brutus´ eyes flash; Antony can tell even in the darkness of the tent. Antony grins with the teeth of a predator.
Antony slowly removes his hand.
Caesar will not’ Brutus begins, and Antony´s hand goes back in place. Brutus´ hand snaps up to grab Antony´s wrist, but Antony´s other hand is behind his neck. His grip is that of a soldier, a fighting man; Brutus struggles like an aristocrat.
Tssk, tssk,’ warns Antony. Caesar,’ he whispers in Brutus´ ear, is not here.’
He slips his hand away again.
There were to be no consequences for our rebellion,’ Brutus tells Antony resolutely. He said that’
This is not a consequence of your rebellion,’ Antony corrects him. This is between us.’
Brutus shakes his head. No,’ he grinds out, Never again. I swore it so.’
Antony cocks his head to the side. Then break the vow,’ he suggests lightly. Lightly, but with the edge of a sword behind it.
Antony,’ insists Brutus, it is not appropriate. You, and myself ’
Ssh,’ Antony soothes, placing a finger over Brutus´ lips. He leans in close to the younger man and places a kiss on Brutus´ pulse point, just below his jaw, delicate and thready. Antony feels Brutus´ breath hitch. In reward, Antony nips the spot, a touch of teeth, and Brutus tilts his neck, giving Antony access.
--but no. Brutus twists, pushing his hands against Antony´s shoulders. No,’ says Brutus firmly. We cannot.’
Antony sighs. You always make this so difficult,’ he accuses.
Twice is not an always,’ Brutus returns.
Well, it should become one.’ Antony crosses his arms. Or is it because you do not wish that worm Cicero to hear us?’
He knows his words strike home when Brutus´ head whips around. Cicero means nothing to me,’ Brutus grinds out. Antony raises an eyebrow. He doesn´t,’ Brutus insists.
Antony pauses; he lets the moment carry itselfthen: Prove it,’ Antony challenges.
He holds Brutus´ gaze, the moonlight glinting off of those delicate, upturned eyes. Brutus looks away first, and Antony knows he has won. He will have Brutus this night.
Antony presses his lips to Brutus´, not roughly; there´s still time for the boy to run to Caesar, and that´s the absolute last thing Antony wants. He still coaxes, persuades, seduces; no tongue, even. Brutus had better appreciate the effort.
Antony feels Brutus loosen, relax a bit; and Antony takes the opportunity to undo the fastening on Brutus´ tunic. Brutus breaks the kiss, turning his head away. Antony,’ he whispers, an edge of desperation, of uncertainty, of fear in his voice. Antony stifles a smile, and slips Brutus´ clothing off of him.
Now, you are beautiful,’ Antony murmurs, just to see the darkening of Brutus´ eyes, the flush in his cheeks. Antony, naked as well now, gently lowers Brutus to the sheepskin below them.
Brutus is still afraid, Antony sees. Not, this time, because it´s Antony pursuing him, but because of the unusual gentility the soldier shows him.
Turn over,’ Antony commands casually, and Brutus freezes.
We´ve never,’ Brutus starts, and Antony shuts him up, delving his tongue into Brutus´ mouth.
It´s true; they have never. Their interludes have never gone so far. Undoubtedly, this is what Brutus is dreading; just as undoubtedly, it is what Antony wants. And so, it is what Antony will get.
He tosses the remark off casually, meaning it only in this context, but Brutus takes the comment as reassurance. He turns over, leaving Antony nipping his pale neck.
Don´t squirm so,’ Antony murmurs in Brutus´ ear. Oh, yes,’ he adds, and try not to scream.’
Brutus stiffens, but Antony is already moving downwards, over the slight curve of Brutus´ spine. Antony dips his fingers in a vial of oil he knew he would win, eventually and slides those fingers down the cleft of Brutus´ arse.
Brutus stills, and Antony buries the first finger into Brutus´ opening. He moves it around, rubbing, in and out, in and out, enjoying the spasms of Brutus´ entrance. No doubt about it, in his mind; Brutus is a virgin, this way, and Antony will be the one to break him.
Antony reaches down, and he finds that Brutus is stiff. His cock is hot to the touch, full of blood, and Brutus´ breath comes in short, desperate gasps.
You like this?’ Antony murmurs, pushing in a second finger.
Brutus muffles a cry in the crook of his arm.
Ssh, silence,’ Antony tells him. Can´t do for the soldiers to hear.’
And with a wicked grin, Antony leans down and licks, once, firmly, over Brutus´ entrance.
Antony?’ Brutus asks, shakily.
Antony doesn´t reply, but licks again and again. He delves his fingers and his tongue deeply, stretching the opening as best as he can; and Brutus responds ardently, so openly. He is muffling the noises he makes, involuntary twitches and gasps, moans of surprised pleasure. Antony is sure that Brutus didn´t expect it to be this good.
Finally, Antony can fit four fingers into Brutus´ slick and stretched hole. Brutus is desperate now, his knees drawn up underneath him, his arse not in the air like a whore, but his back arched, him drawn open as even his body pleads for Antony´s attention. If Antony thought Brutus was beautiful before, this, well, this was better, so much better.
Antony withdraws. Brutus is ready; Antony has done all he can to ease the pain. He puts a hand on Brutus´ back, waiting for the trembling to abate.
Are you ready?’ Antony asks.
Brutus shifts. He nods against the pillow. Antony grasps Brutus and turns him around, so he can see the boy´s face. Brutus´ lips are swollen from biting; his eyes dilated so far they look black in the flickering candlelight.
Amazing. By Venus,’ Antony breathes.
He pushes Brutus´ legs up, folds him, and Brutus squirms not to get away, but to help Antony. Antony tilts Brutus´ hips, and pushes forward, and the head of his cock breaches the opening. Brutus lets out a low whimper.
Brutus is so tight inside, Antony thinks he might die from it. He rubs Brutus´ side, long, firm strokes. Relax,’ he soothes.
It hurts,’ Brutus whispers, head tossing to the side.
Ssh,’ Antony continues, trust me,’ as though he were calming a skittish horse. He feels, on the inside, Brutus begin to consciously relax. Antony slides forward, inch by inch, until finally he is buried in Brutus, deep, so deep, and so warm.
Antony,’ Brutus gasps.
Antony pulls out slightly, and slides back in just as easily, and Brutus groans wordlessly. He´s uncoiled, he´s open, and he´s perfect, so hot on the inside and so gorgeously debauched on the outside.
Antony ruts inside him, until he´s sure Brutus no longer feels the initial pain of penetration, then he slows and stops.
What are you doing?’ Brutus asks breathlessly, but Antony flips them over with the ease of a wrestler, leaving Brutus on top, Antony still embedded deep inside. Brutus looks down on Antony with shocked and open eyes. Antony draws Brutus down.
Find your pleasure,’ Antony mutters in Brutus´ ear. He rolls his hips, and watches Brutus choke back a helpless groan. Antony grows harder, if that is possible, feeling Brutus place his hands on Antony´s biceps, his knees splayed to either side of Antony´s waist, and watching Brutus begin hesitantly, slowly fucking himself on Antony´s cock. Antony realizes, as more of him is enveloped, that this position only serves to drive him deeper inside the boy.
Take yourself in hand,’ Antony orders, and Brutus, awkwardly, pulls one hand away from support to touch his own cock, an angry, aroused red.
Brutus slips, about to collapse onto Antony, but Antony grabs Brutus´ shoulders, supporting him. Brutus is so amazing, so wonderful as he fucks himself on Antony and squeezes his cock, trying so desperately for release.
Brutus is getting close; Antony can feel it in the way Brutus´ hand grips Antony´s arm, the way Brutus screws his eyes shut and shudders from deep inside.
Stop,’ Antony commands, grabbing Brutus´ wrists; taking away his support, his method of pleasure.
Antony!’ Brutus cries in protest. He´s so close
Oh, my sweet,’ says Antony, you will enjoy this.’
He twists his hips, rotating them, driving himself in at a slightly different angle
and he knows he´s found it when Brutus tightens convulsively around his cock, when Brutus hands grab Antony´s like he were to fall into hell were Antony not there to hold him up.
There she is,’ murmurs Antony, and proceeds to fuck Brutus just there, just like that.
Brutus shrieks from the pleasure, but Antony is already there, a hand over Brutus´ mouth, stifling the sound of Caesar´s good, good ‘friend´ in the throes of acute, painful pleasure. Brutus convulses one last time, and Antony can feel the boy´s release, from the inside, of all things. He feels the muscles tighten around him, feels his body shake, sees Brutus´ face screwed up against the pleasure, the intensity he´s obviously never experienced in his life.
Antony can´t help it. He comes, harder than he´s ever come in his entire life.
Brutus collapses on top of Antony´s chest, the softened cock still inside him.
There, there,’ says Antony, that wasn´t so bad, was it?’
There´s a long, drawn out silence, as Antony strokes Brutus gently. You´re the first,’ Brutus finally whispers, muffled in Antony´s shoulder.
I know,’ Antony tells him softly.
Cicero means nothing to me,’ Brutus insists lowly.
I know.’ And he does. He knows that too. You´re mine,’ says Antony.
Brutus doesn´t reply, as though he doesn´t trust himself to speak. A smile spreads across Antony´s face, and he gently strokes Brutus´ back until he falls asleep in Antony´s arms.
Disclaimer:Characters (real and fictional) aren't mine, no money is made with these stories and history isn't changed. Damn.