Title: Alea Iacta Est
Pairing/Character: Caesar/Marc Antony
Summary: Where Caesar awaits.
Disclaimer: HBO/BBC owns Rome
It all happens in an instant; Antony´s instincts are at apex, the knowledge and reflexes of a lifetime of war. His senses are all awake, his eyes searching among the hostile faces of the Forum for that one spark that may set this whole mess ablaze.
Logically, in his head, he knows it should not be so. Pompey should be too afraid to attack Antony in the Forum, as the People´s Tribune. He should not dare.
Antony doesn´t trust his head. He doesn´t trust logic.
When it happens, it does so almost faster than he can react. A rough-haired man lunges forward out of the crowd, murder in his eyes
Lucius Vorenus, an arm around Antony´s chest, pulls him back out of harms way, as Titus Pullo steps forward and slashes the throat of the attacker.
Pompey shouldn´t have dared.
But he has.
- - - -
Antony is angry, but he does not show it. Not the way he wishes. He wants to tear off heads and limbs, slash and stab, but he hides the urges. Caesar had hoped to provoke violence. Well, Antony hopes Caesar is pleased.
Instead of wreaking his temper on the soldiers following him, Antony rides. He rides to the army´s camp, where sanctuary awaits.
Where Caesar awaits.
- - - -
Caesar has had almost an hour of warning of Marc Antony´s arrival. The soldiers are assembled, in rows, as Antony slides off his horse, smooth as you please.
He is dirty, disheveled. He has blood on him; not all the blood is his.
When Caesar sees Antony, his eyes flare with a hunger that has nothing to do with the impending defeat of Pompey the Great.
After all these years,’ Caesar begins, when they are inside the tent, Pompey surprises me. I had hoped to provoke some kind of aggression,’ he admits, but to try and kill a tribune! In the Forum!’ He paces, around the table and back to Antony. The man´s found some hard black iron in his soul.’
Antony drinks deeply of the wine Caesar has offered him. I´m sure it was yonder little worm Cato put him up to it,’ he says, gazing at the cup in surprise. ´Tis excellent, this.’ He looks back up at Caesar. So, what next?
Let´s see what the men have to say,’ Caesar returns.
Antony drops the bread he is holding; he moves quickly to the basin of water. He looks nothing like a Tribune, he feels nothing like a Tribune. Appearances are important, especially before the men.
Don´t do that!’ Caesar calls. He moves over behind Antony, and claps him on the back. Antony feels a thrill race down his spine. You look just right as you are,’ Caesar explains. Like Leonidas at Thermopolae.’
Antony half-laughs, and follows Caesar into the sunlight.
- - - -
The legion needs bare hours of preparation before marching on Rome. Speed is of the essence, but they have a moment to prepare. They do not march on the city, not yet.
Caesar´s eyes rake over Antony, in the privacy of Caesar´s tent. Antony enjoys the attention; he knows what Caesar wants. He knows Caesar wants to fuck him, to grapple strength-on-strength with an equal.
You do look delectable, mussed so,’ Caesar murmurs, running a hand through Antony´s hair.
Antony flicks his eyes to Caesar. You think so?’ he asks. Perhaps I should dress this way more often.’
Caesar´s eyes darken. Nothing would please me more.’
Antony runs a hand up Caesar´s arm, and looks up at Caesar´s face an invitation. Caesar smashes their mouths together. Their tongues tangle a battle, a fight and before Antony knows it, he is on his back, underneath Caesar, on the rough cot in the back room of the tent.
Antony raises an eyebrow. You are getting faster, aren´t you?’
Caesar uses the pause to unwind Antony´s toga, the twinkle in his eye reply enough, as he steals another kiss from Antony.
I´m sure the ladies in Rome enjoy it,’ Antony breathes, only the tone of his voice betraying the control he must exert over himself. Like Servilia.’ Antony isn´t jealous; these days it seems everything slides off of him. After seven years of war and a recent attempted murder, Servilia hardly rates highly in his mind.
Caesar tilts his head to the side. I signed my letter to her ‘with affection´,’ he muses, not love. Do you believe I should have done otherwise?’
A grin breaks out over Antony´s face. Perhaps not,’ admits Antony.
Caesar thrusts down, hips to hips, and Antony groans. Caesar grasps one of Antony´s hands and holds it down. Antony knows a cue when he sees one. He pits his strength against Caesar´s, as they have so many times before.
It´s violent; it´s rough. In one instant, Antony has wrestled Caesar beneath him, but when Caesar breaks his grip Antony is at the disadvantage again. They trade kisses, clashes of teeth and tongue that are as much a judge of who is the victor as the battle. Antony tastes blood; he doesn´t know whether the blood is his or Caesar´s.
In the end, as always, it´s not brute strength that wins the day. Antony misses the opening in his defenses until it´s too late, until Caesar has knocked his legs out from under him, and has slammed him back into the mattress.
Caesar´s eyes are dark with arousal, and Antony swallows. That first partit isn´t the dangerous one.
Now, Antony lets Caesar hold him down. He lets Caesar slide the rope over his wrists, tight enough that Antony can´t escape.
He lets Caesar render him helpless.
Antony´s breath is coming in short gasps, and he can´t think clearly. Caesar pushes a finger inside him and Antony exhales. The finger stills.
Caesar,’ Antony says warningly, but he has no power here. Not now, and Caesar knows it.
I wonder,’ Caesar ponders aloud, if I could make you beg.’
Antony shudders. Caesar has, before. He always delivers on what he promises. He´s had Antony pleading for his touch, for his cock, for release please anything.
Don´t,’ Antony says, but he´s asking, not ordering. Caesar,’ he moans, as another finger slips inside. The fingers twist, searching. No,’ Antony pleads breathlessly, but his body knows Caesar is looking for.
And there Antony groans in helpless pleasure, liquid passion, liquid pleasure flowing through his veins. But Caesar doesn´t stop there, he pushes again, and Antony convulses. Antony dimly knows, this must be too thick, that can´t just be two fingers anymore
But then the pressure is gone, replaced by a smooth, stroking massage just beneath his balls.
Antony´s breath catches. He needs to tell Caesar that it´s too much, but his breath is gone. Instead, Caesar captures his mouth, and Antony doesn´t have the air, he doesn´t have the control.
Caesar breaks the kiss, as always, and retreats back.
Breathe in,’ Antony hears Caesar´s calm voice, and he does. Now,’ Caesar says, exhale,’ and as Antony obeys, he feels a pressure, a stretching
Antony holds on to the ropes, to hold on to something cutting into his wrists, they´ll leave marks. Maybe he can blame it on the battle
Caesar pushes partway in. Look at me,’ Caesar orders, and Antony drags his eyes to Caesar´s. Breathe in,’ Caesar instructs, and Antony´s chest rises. Exhale.’ And something gives, and Antony uncoils, and suddenly Caesar is buried so deep inside him.
Gods,’ Antony groans, please.’
Caesar stops, but his breath is coming faster too. Antony knows Caesar is on the verge of losing his control. What was that?’ Caesar gasps out.
Please,’ Antony begs, please,’ and it´s like he doesn´t remember his own name anymore. The pain, oh, it hurts, but life is flowing through his veins, and he feels so alive, like he only can herehe always wants it so much, the want, the want is unbearable
And then Caesar moves and the pleasure crashes over him like a thunderstorm, like Neptune´s rage, like violent waves and lightning and fire.
Antony needs this; though he´d never admit it, he needs it as badly as Caesar. Caesar needs to gain control; but Antony, Antony needs to lose it. He tells himself, flashing Caesar a coy smile, that he does it for Caesar, that he does it for the general. He coaxes Caesar in every line of his body, in the way he looks at the man, in the way he assumes a casual pose, a devil-may-care attitude. It brings Caesar in, every time
And Caesar is within Antony, around Antony. He´s tied down, and he can´t think and he can´t breathe and
by the gods
He hits an unbearable peak, shaking his pleasure loose, shattering, coming apart underneath Caesar. He feels Caesar soften inside him, and slowly the world comes back into focus.
Caesar slips out from inside him, and Antony sighs at the loss.
Caesar undoes the bonds. Antony rubs his wrists, flexes his shoulders. He knows Caesar watches him.
Any permanent damage?’ Caesar asks wryly, touching Antony´s cheek (still dirty from the trouble at the Forum).
Antony looks up at the man who just took him, as though he were a woman. Not this time,’ Antony says, and it´s truer than he knows.
That day, side by side, Antony and Caesar cross the Rubicon, and begin their march on Rome.
Disclaimer:Characters (real and fictional) aren't mine, no money is made with these stories and history isn't changed. Damn.