a snippet i've been working on and am somewhat pleased with, though i am unsure whether the entire fic will take shape. this piece contains things that could upset you, dear reader. it contains implied psychosis, a description of s/a, canon-typical violence, and canon-typical incest. stay safe, dear reader. criticism is welcome- this is far from polished and much editing is to be done before it can be submitted to the archive for peer review. ave res publica and please enjoy.
Geta had been conscious but in a stupor when he properly came to. His ears alerted to the clank of metal in the silent night as guards escorted a panting Caracalla into his bedroom. “Jupiter was in my bed. Jupiter was… Jupiter!” he managed between gasping breaths.
Geta turned around towards the door. He’d been watching Rome from his high bedroom window. He could tell from far above that the people were angry, deprived of bread for too long, but he was smoking opium to calm his nerves. So the look he gave Caracalla was calm and sagely. The lackluster reaction frustrated Caracalla. He stormed further into the room and grabbed the nearest thing, a ceramic vase on a side table. He hurled it at Geta, but his mind was so clouded with panic and his eyes with tears that he missed by yards. Even the guards flinched at the outburst, but Geta didn’t react as he watched it sail by and heard the smash of ceramic behind him.
“He hurt me... he pulled my hair.” Caracalla explained in a hysterical scream, almost too high pitched for Geta to decipher. He stumbled towards Geta, and Geta now smelled his twin’s distress as ammonia in Caracalla’s cold sweat and the drying urine running down his thighs. Caracalla gathered a fist of red curls from the base of his own head and roughly yanked it back to demonstrate, pulling his milky-white throat tall and taut like a marble column. Tendrils of arousal languidly snaked down Geta’s spine despite the opium smoke threatening to choke them out. “He had his cock in my throat. I couldn't, I couldn't breathe, I thought he was going to kill me. And his fingers in my ass, gods, they were a god’s hands, too big, and I thought I would bleed. He left, and said it was... was meager preparation for what was to come, but he couldn’t bear to hurt me any more.”
“The citizens would like to hurt us. Badly, and at length. Meager preparation indeed,” Geta mused.
Caracalla released his own hair and his head shot forward into its usual position, as if he’d been struggling against his own hand. He growled. “Is that all you have to say? You’re not worried about your raped brother?”
“Calm down, brother. I have always protected you. I just need to get my bearings.”
“Yes! You have always protected me, from our father, from scheming senators, and this… this sudden departure is so becoming of a traitor!”
Geta grabbed Caracalla by the shoulders. “I am not a traitor, brother. We are together. Please calm yourself.”
Caracalla shook his head. “I will not!”
“Antonius!” Geta roared, inches from Caracalla’s face.
Caracalla looked stricken, then melted at his father’s voice from his brother’s mouth. He knelt and tears welled in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry sir, I love you, I didn’t mean to throw that, please forgive me, please, I-”
“It’s okay, love, you just can’t yell at me when I’m trying to help you,” Geta murmured, kneeling to meet Caracalla’s eyes. He grabbed both Caracalla’s dainty wrists in one hand, conscious of the danger if Caracalla flew into another fit. He took the bowl of opium on his bedside table and brought it to Caracalla’s nose. “Breathe, love.” He glanced up at the guards, gesturing for them to leave now that Geta had Caracalla calm and restrained.
blakekathryn
yousharknotpass
izzy806
