#commodus imagine

It had been a long, excruciating week. You had managed to avoid Commodus in that time. Attius was still insistent that you complete your duties despite the injuries, but you had managed to do them all in the lower levels of the palace. In the few instances where you needed to get work done in areas Commodus could be, you chose to do them very late into the night. 

There was not a word you could use to express the heartache you had felt at that time. It is funny that a person could be stamped so permanently onto your ribcage in such a short time of knowing them, but the emperor was a man you would never forget. 

In your dreams, you could still feel the touch of his calloused hands and the warmth that only he could provide – no other form of warmth like fire or the sun could compare or compete. 

The swelling in your face was gone, but you still sported a cut lip and the bruises were still prominent. Each night, you would go to Cassius to get a poultice to put on your wounds, which soothed the skin and removed some of the aching pain. 

While you had been smart in dodging Commodus and staying on the lower levels of the castle, you had to fetch rosemary from the gardens and it could not wait until night. So you found yourself, in the heat of midday, picking some rosemary in a secluded area of the palace gardens. 

It was calm, with a gentle breeze that kissed your skin. You held a woven basket with the handle tucked into your bent arm. With a small knife, you would cut off bundles of rosemary that looked ready to harvest and placed them in the basket. The motions were soft and serene and you found some peace with it. 

Footsteps alerted you to a presence behind you. You wanted to turn, but at the sound of their voice, you knew who it was and could not afford to face them. 

“You are not sick,” Commodus spoke from behind you, his tone full of contempt. 

You stopped your current task but still refused to turn around. Keeping your back to him was incredibly disrespectful, but you feared what he would do if he saw the markings on your face. How quickly would he cast you aside? 

“I have… recovered quickly.” You excused. Commodus scoffed from behind you and stepped closer. He was only a pace or two away from you and his close proximity had your knees weak and resolve crumbling. 

“You were never sick. I am not stupid…” His tone then switched to something that sounded almost insecure, “Have I done something to incur your indifference? Why do you avoid me? Whatever it was, name it and I shall work towards absolution. Shout it at me, insult me even, I give you permission for that. So long as you speak, so long as I can hear you talk because I have learnt that nothing… nothing hurts more than the absence of you.” 

His small speech could have knocked you off your feet. It sent your mind reeling. A strong urge to drop your basket and fling yourself into his arms washed over your body. How much you dearly missed the comfort of his embrace. He sounded vulnerable, not something you ever thought would come out of his mouth.

“It is not you, Caesar.” You hoped the honorific title would make him display more mercy toward you, but you failed to notice the depths of his devotion that had built up long before he invited you to his chamber so many nights ago. 

“Commodus.” He corrected what you addressed him as, “You of all people do not need to call me that. What is it that burdens you so?” He questioned. 

You knew there was no point in trying to keep it hidden. Your clothing thankfully covered most of the bruises, except for the one on your face. Slowly, while looking at the stone ground, you turned to face him. Your face raised and made eye contact with him, finding some solace in the green of his eyes. His look of desperation for your attention quickly morphed into simmering rage. You could see the bump in his throat move as he swallowed and his jaw set. 

He took the final step to get closer to you. Commodus raised his hand and hovered it right over your bruise, eyes scanning it over and over as if it was not real. 

“Who?” His voice was oddly calm. It was as if his mind had shut down, unable to fully process what he was seeing. 

“I am fine and–”

“Who did this?” Commodus interrupted. He gently traced over the bruise with the tip of his fingers, mapping the way it marred your face. 

“I have neglected my duties as of late. Master Attius did only what was necessary.” You tried to reason. His nostrils flared at your words. 

“It was him that did this to you?” You wanted to answer, but there was a sob that threatened to claw its way through your throat. You did not wish to cry in front of him, but the stress of everything had hit you. He saw the tears that welled in your eyes and pulled you in for a hug. However, his sudden touch on your arms caused you to flinch.

Commodus looked down immediately, grabbed your wrist, and pulled up the sleeve of your dress to see the bruises that littered your forearm and disappeared under the top of the fabric. His breath became laboured. 

“Nothing must go unpunished, he told me.” You bit your lip to hold the sobs back. Commodus let out a long sigh and rested his forehead against yours. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, letting the warm breeze hit your bodies. 

He eventually moved, lifting his head and planting a kiss on your hairline. His hands reached up and rubbed your shoulders gently, trying to provide comfort while also not wanting to make your pain worse. 

“You are not to do any more work today. Go to my room and wait there.” He instructed you. 

“Wait for what?” You asked. He did not answer you, only giving your temple one last chaste kiss before he turned around and left the garden. You could hear his harsh footfalls as he got further away and you were scared at what he was capable of. 

Commodus was angry and that was dangerous. You worried about what his wrath meant for anyone in the palace. Yet, you could do nothing but stand there as he left, bracing for the coming aftermath of whatever he had planned.

You swore that you would wear down the marble flooring in Commodus’ room. For the last few hours, you had paced back and forth. Sometimes you would sit in a chair for a few moments before becoming restless again and resuming your short march. There had been no word from Commodus or anyone as to what was going on. 

You surmised that was the best outcome. He had not gone on a rampage and caused chaos, which was good. It had only struck you recently that perhaps you had been terribly stupid this whole time. The way he looked at you in the gardens and his vulnerability at thinking he had done something wrong to you. There you came to understand the depths of the situation and that the feelings you held are in some capacity reciprocated. 

That was why you paced so relentlessly. He harboured feelings for you, which in itself felt surreal. You were nothing and would remain nothing, but somehow that was enough to catch his attention. Had it been that festival you sang at so many years ago? Was it that moment when the fates decide to entwin both of your paths?

The door on the other side of the room opened and you stopped pacing. You stood still, hoping to see Commodus. It was hard to conceal your disappointment when another man walked through the doors. He was old and hunched over slightly, but his face appeared kind. He carried a bag with him and set it down on one of the tables. 

“Excuse my brash words, but where is the emperor?” You questioned. 

The old man smiled and began to take items out of his bag; vials and bandages, “The emperor has not been in the palace for hours, my lady.” 

“I am not a lady,” You spoke. 

“I have been instructed by the Caesar to look over his lady that awaits in this room. I am correct in assuming that is you?” He teased you slightly and you felt a little more relaxed around him. You approached the table and looked down at the healing supplies he had laid out. 

“Yes, uh, that would be me.” You shrugged. You did not want to question why Commodus had referred to you as his lady but knew it was not something to take lightly. Whatever he said goes and there was no reversing those words. The more you thought of it, the more it warmed your heart. 

“Well, I am Cosmo, fair lady. Might I check over your injuries?” He questioned. 

You nodded with permission and he moved towards you. While he tended to your wounds, all you could think about was Commodus; where he was and what he was doing. He was not in the palace and Rome was a large city. A sinking feeling of worry and dread washed over you.

After you had been tended to, more servants came in to bring you new attire. The dress you wore was nothing you had ever come close to having. The tunica, stolla, and palla all matched with the vibrancy of orange and black. Commodus had picked it out for you and you could not help but wonder if he chose it because it was similar in colour to your favourite animal, the tiger.  

When you had gotten ready, guards escorted you to a waiting carriage. Each time you tried to ask what was happening, you only got the same short response; Caesar awaits you. By now, slight fear had entered your heart. He had been gone that whole day and the last you saw of him was when he became consumed by rage. Had he hurt others? Had he hurt himself? 

The large imposing figure of the Colosseum entered your vision as the carriage approached. There were not many times in your life when you had time to visit, but each memory had been ingrained in your mind. The sun was setting and cast the stone in a delicate golden light. The heat of the day waned and you became grateful for the clothing wrapped around you to shield you from the occasional cool breeze. 

You do not remember there being a gladiatorial game scheduled for that day and your suspicions got worse as you were led out of the carriage and into the Colosseum. There was no shouting, no screaming, or bounds of cheer. Nothing but silence greeted you as you walked up some stairs and found yourself at the cloth-covered entrance to the emperor's viewing box. 

The guards escorting you grabbed the silk curtains and pulled them away, allowing you to enter alone. The viewing box was grand, filled with seats for the senators. A large stone chair, like a throne, was placed up front in the centre. There, leaning against the stone railing, was Commodus. He had his back to you, but you could see he wore a regal outfit of black armour with silver and gold accents. A gold laurel crown rested over his touseled dark locks. 

Your heartbeat picked up at the sight. 

“Commodus?” You questioned. At the sound of your voice, he turned around and smiled. He raised both of his arms like one would do to welcome someone with a hug. 

“Ah, you’re finally here,” He approached you and placed one hand gently over the healing bruise on your face, “How are you?” His other hand rested on your waist to pull you closer. A flush fell over your body. 

“The healer says I am doing well. There are no complications.” You answered. You had no idea what to do with your arms, so you pressed the palms of your hands against the chestpiece he wore, feeling the bends and grooves of the detailed pattern and the coolness of the metal. 

“And how is your mind?” His thumb swiped back and forth across your cheek. 

“I am alright. It hurt for a while… everything is fine now.” You reassured him. During your week of avoiding him, you had missed his comfort dearly. While he had originally gone to you for solace, you became attached to him and learned that you wished to lean on him as well.

“Not quite, darling.” Commodus took your arm and guided you to the big throne. He sat down comfortably. While you looked around for a chair next to him, he pulled you down so you sat on his lap. The movement was abrupt but sent heat through your body. 

“Nothing can go back to normal until you see justice for the crimes you have suffered,” Commodus wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you securely in his lap. The armour he wore was almost cold, but his presence provided a warmth that erased that feeling.  

“Attius was well within his rights to punish me and–” 

Commodus grabbed your chin and turned your head to look at him. There was a quiet rage within his eyes, though not directed at you. 

“I’ll not have you speak like that, do you hear me?” He told you. You nodded which made him smile and leave a chaste kiss on your cheek, “Good. Now, I have prepared a show for you.” 

“A show?” You questioned. 

“More like a trial,” He motioned with his hands to a set of guards standing within the arena. They began to march towards one of the entrances and he continued to speak, “I will not have my lady wronged. Nothing must go unpunished.” That phrase clicked in your head, the one that Attius had used against you. At that moment, you understood what was happening.

The doors to one of the entrances opened and out came the person you were expecting. Your master, Attius, had his hands bound by shackles in front of him. He was led in by multiple guards, crossing the sandy terrain. You sucked in a breath when they got closer and you could get a better look at him. He was dressed in rags, but his arms and the lower half of his legs were exposed, showing the gnarly bruises that littered his skin. Splotches of blood, some aged more than others, consumed the brown cotton he wore. 

What shocked you the most was the bruise on his face that was almost an exact copy of the one he gave you. 

Commodus chuckled lightly to himself when Attius almost stumbled over. You now understood where he was for those hours of not being at the palace. While undeniably barbaric, something about his protective nature and thirst for vengeance on your part was, in a twisted way, attractive. When Attius got within speaking distance, Commodus tightened his hold on you as if to assure himself you would no longer get hurt. 

“You have committed an egregious crime,” Commodus spoke. Your hands placed over his that rested on your stomach and began to carefully thread your fingers through his. He had gotten tense and you were doing what you could to calm him down, if only slightly. 

“Caesar, please! Mercy! Show me mercy!” Attius was shoved down to his knees by the guards, kicking up some of the sand. 

“Mercy from me? No, it is not me that you wronged,” Commodus turned to you, his face of indifference and hate towards Attius morphing into adoration for you, “My lady, do you grant him mercy?”

For a moment, you wanted to. You may have many weeks ago, but lately, you had come to understand that violence was often necessary; all thanks to Commodus’ guidance. You thought of everything Attius did towards your fellow servants over the years. Each indignity, each strike, each time he would show no clemency. 

You wanted him to feel that fear. 

“No mercy,” You answered. Commodus smiled at you and his eyes twinkled with something akin to excitement. He surged forward to capture you in a heated kiss. You matched the fervour, pushing back and feeling the softness of his lips against yours. He hummed with satisfaction, tasting the fruit you had eaten a while ago on your lips. 

He pulled away and whispered, “You’re perfect,” He then turned to face Attius again, losing all sense of warmth in his gaze, “It is, with my fair judgement, deemed that the offended parties will fight until death.” Your brows furrowed at his words. He did not mean that you would fight, right? 

Attius looked just as confused as you, “Caesar, surely I will not fight her?” 

“Of course not,” Commodus scoffed as if the mere notion was the worst idea ever proposed, “No, you will not be fighting my lady. Moreover, my lady’s favourite animal shall fight for her.” 

While Attius was still perplexed, your face dropped. You looked around the arena, suddenly aware of a looming threat. Commodus would not, would he? But then again, this kind of violence was in his nature. You understood why he picked out your outfit for that night, how the colours matched that of a tiger. The same animal he had seen you weaving into the pattern of a carpet. 

Suddenly, growling could be heard, looming ever closer. With a loud thundering snap, a section of the ground was pulled back quickly. There was no time to spare as a tiger, large and snarling, lept out from the depths. A chain was linked to a collar on its neck but did little to disrupt its movements. 

Your eyes were glued to the scene, stuck in a state of both stupor and intrigue. Commodus was smiling madly and he rested his chin on your shoulder. You revelled in his warmth while you watched Attius fail to fight back with nothing but a short sword. 

The fight did not last long. Even if he was not beaten and frail, there was no winning against the ravenous beast. It lunged and sunk its teeth into his side. You could see the tiger's jaw clench down and elicit screams of pain from Attius’ mouth. When he fell, the tiger took it as an advantage and aimed for his throat, cutting off his wails. As the beast fed, Commodus leaned back in his throne and used a hand to turn your chin to face him. 

“Do you see what I have done for you?” He began, “Take it as a vow. All those that lay a finger on you will be eaten like scraps. That was the fate of that filthy vermin that marked your arm, the fate of your master, and the fate of anyone who dares come after you now. You belong to me and me alone. Right, darling?” 

You nodded, too lost in the trance of his eyes to speak. His thumb brushed your lower lip before retreating. From a small round side table, Commodus lifted a woven laurel wreath that was as green as his eyes. He placed it on you and adjusted it so it sat along the crown of your head. 

“It appears you won the fight. Congratulations, my victor.” He kissed you on the cheek before gently tracing the bruise on your face. There was still an air of contempt that he held while looking at your injury, but Attius’ death gave him more satisfaction. 

“Thank you, Commodus.” You said. 

“We shall celebrate,” He squeezed your hips as a signal to get up and you did. He stood up after you and held out his hand, “Come,” 

You placed your hand in his, warming at the familiarity of his touch. Taking one last glance at Attius’ still body, you followed Commodus out of the viewing box.

You had been eating at a table in Commodus’ chambers since the two of you arrived back at the palace. It was a private dinner, but still grand in the assembly of food laid out. The two of you ate and talked like you once did before you avoided him. It felt right to go back into that routine like all was finally right with the world. 

The sun had long set and the both of you finished eating and only talked after. As the night got older, you began to unwind. Commodus stood off to the side, facing away from you as he took off his armour pieces. You occasionally glanced towards him while sipping on wine – not remembering the amount of cups you had. By the time he had gotten down to his underclothes and was unfastening his forearm braces, you decided to voice a question that had been burning you inside. 

“Commodus?” He turned to give you his attention and hummed. You took another quick sip, “Why did you choose me?” He paused for a moment, as if your question did not entirely make sense.

“I’ve already told you. At the very least, part of it,” He took off his braces and placed them next to his other armour pieces. His footsteps echoed off of the marble flooring as he came back to you. Commodus rested his forearm over the top of your chair as he leaned over you. 

“You sang at that festival and I felt warmth for the first time. It followed me in my dreams ever since. Admittedly, I did not know if you were still in the palace as you did not frequent above the lower levels. I should have hanged Attius for keeping you from the light.” His fingers reached out to trace your arm, moving up the length, across your shoulder, and towards the exposed collarbone. 

All of a sudden, his posture went rigid. You could see the bump on his throat move up and down as he swallowed nervously. After a few tense seconds, he lowered himself to your eye level, crouching slightly. The gesture alone was incredible. Never would you have predicted an emperor would lower himself to your level, both literally and figuratively. 

“I am correct in assuming these feelings are reciprocated?” He asked. You understood why he had become so nervous. While naturally ruthless, Commodus was an insecure man who looked for approval in the faces of everyone around him. Whether one could consider that a weakness or a strength was up to them. For you, none of that mattered. 

It was almost comical the way you shared that same worry for a while. You too were scared that the depths of his dedication and care were shallow, but if today had taught you anything, it was that a notion like that was far from the truth. 

“You are correct, Commodus.” You responded, “I deeply care for you.” Those words washed over him and you could see how he instantly relaxed. His eyelids fluttered for a moment, scanning you up and down as if to see if you were real. 

He surged forward and captured your lips with his, an ecstasy of heat. You melted into the feeling and relished in the attention. His hands gripped your waist tightly and pulled you up from the chair until your lower back dug into the table. He lifted you to sit on the table, the plates and cutlery jostling with the movement. Commodus was devouring you and at that moment you realized you did not mind it at all.

His movement to pick you up and place you on the table caused you to gasp, which he used to his advantage. His tongue entered your mouth, exploring and dominant. Your breathing became laboured and your body felt fuzzy – as if all the sensations around you that were not Commodus faded into the background. 

He kissed you a few more times before gently biting on your lower lip, pulling away and letting it go. You opened your eyes and saw him staring right at you. His chest was heaving slightly and he kept his forehead resting on yours; completely unwilling to be further from you in any way. 

“That…” Your whispered voice trailed off. Commodus smiled at how dazed you were and was happy to see his power over you. 

Glancing out the window near you, you saw just how dark it was and understood that it had to be closer to twilight. Your mood instantly died. You would need to go to bed immediately. Already you had lost out on valuable sleeping time and knew it would cause you to lack in your chores tomorrow. 

“Commodus, there is nothing I would like more than to stay with you, believe me. But I need to go and rest. There are many tasks I have to get to tomorrow.” 

He looked at you like you had said something incredibly bizarre, “Did you not hear what I told you in the arena? You are mine and because of that, you will do no more work. From now on, my room is yours. You are my lady, the emperor’s lady.” His hands rubbed up and down your thighs, as he pushed himself to stand between them. Even sitting on the table, you did not reach his height. 

“And what will people say?” You questioned. 

“They’ll say nothing if they favour their heads.” Something in the way he said those words made you more eager for him. Deciding to take charge for once, you grabbed the fabric of his tunic and pulled him towards you for a kiss. Commodus moved with you as he was eager to participate, but remained gentle to not hurt your bruises.

There was a heat that bubbled in your stomach, fueling a hunger that you had never felt before. Instinctively, your hips ground against his. Commodus reciprocated, moving the clothed area of his hardening length against your core. The kiss got more intense, a mesh of heated breath and knocking teeth. He clung to you like a last resort, like you were his last chance to arrive in the Elysium fields. 

Your hands roamed everywhere, up his arms and down his chest, feeling the muscles that lay under the fabric of his tunic. The table moved with the force of each of your movements, becoming unstable. Commodus gripped your thighs, pushing them against his sides and wrapping around his waist. You let him pull your arms around his neck and he lifted you off of the table. 

His strength nearly shocked you, but it was not surprising. He pulled away from the kiss long enough so he could walk up the marble steps to the raised dias that held his bed. Before you knew it, you found yourself falling onto the plush silk sheets of his bed; or more accurately what he has now framed as your shared bed. The thought sent a fluttering feeling to the already burning part of your stomach and lodged up towards your chest. 

Commodus leaned down over you and rested on one forearm while he used his free hand to trace across your collarbone and neck, “You’re mine. Not the senate’s, not Rome’s, not anyone’s.” 

You nodded enthusiastically, begging for more attention from him, “Yours, only yours.”

Commodus leaned down and began to assail your neck; licking, kissing, and biting every inch. You trembled under his touch and became reduced to nothing but breathless moans. His hands pulled away at the fabrics that wrapped your form, the pretty assemble being torn off you. You would have been sad about it if it were not for the fact that he could easily buy you another. 

He took away each layer and left you bare under him. Commodus stopped his assault on your neck and pulled back to look at you. Despite the occasional bruise on your arms and legs and a fading one on your stomach, he reached out and gripped your hip and swiped his thumb back and forth as his gaze travelled over you. 

“My Venus,” He whispered. If you were not already unwound below him, you would have melted right there. 

“Commodus,” His name fell like a plea on your lips. You needed him desperately and began to tug at his clothing. He humoured you, smiling softly as he stripped down. Once he was bare, you latched onto his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. You felt the softness of his lips as your tongues explored one another. His chest brushed against yours and the skin contact made you moan. He felt just as hot as your blood, pulsing and begging under the skin. 

One of his large hands trailed down your stomach and brushed over your hip bone before caressing your inner thigh. In an instant, you opened your legs – entirely ready to surrender to him. Sensing how eager you were, he chuckled against your lips. 

“So impatient, my love.” His fingers moved up your inner thigh but stopped just as he got close to your core. You whimpered when he ceased his movements. “Beg, darling. Tell me how much you want me.” 

“Commodus please,” You moved your hips to try and get closer to his touch but he used his other hand to hold you down. He tsked and shook his head from side to side. 

“That’s not playing fair,” He scolded you. While his hands were preoccupied with holding you down, yours were free and you used that to your advantage. He may be able to bring you to heel, but you know you could do just the same. 

“Fuck being fair,” It was the first time you swore in front of him and his eyes sparkled at that, “Fuck me, Commodus, please.” Your hands moved to his lower stomach, lower and lower until you were able to grasp his hard cock. His entire body shuddered and his nostrils flared. Something clicked in him, a snap and his patience was gone. 

Commodus pushed up further on the bed and crawled on top of the sheets, moving right up to you. You had shuffled towards the headboard with your legs bent at the knees and together. His hands gripped your knees and spread your legs so he could slot himself between them. 

“Do you want this?” His warm breath tickled your neck as he trailed his lips across the skin, just barely touching but feeling so right. 

You grabbed his jaw with both of your hands and moved his head to look him in the eyes, “Would I have spread my legs for you otherwise?” His eyes darkened at that and you could feel his jaw clench. 

It was then that you had an idea that may not have been the best. You had seen how possessive he was of you and the violence he was willing to give to others on your behalf. You wanted to test the waters and see how much you could rile him up. 

“Are you going to stop teasing and fuck me or do I have to find someone else?” It was a fake threat. There was nobody else that could ever compare to Commodus; nobody else you would ever want to even speak to. His face fell into incredible seriousness and you let go of him, only for his hand to grip your chin. It was not strong enough to hurt but it held your attention. 

“I know what you’re trying to do, darling.” He leaned down with his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “By the time I am done, you won’t even be able to think about anybody else.” 

In an instant, his warm fingers brushed through your folds. You sucked in a breath at the contact. His fingers moved meticulously, discovering each stroke that made you shake under him and moan. Commodus kissed across the expanse of your neck and chest, dragging his teeth along the skin occasionally. You found it hard to keep your eyes open as you were entranced by what you felt. 

Your hands moved to cart through his hair. When you tugged at the strands, Commodus groaned. It appeared he was particularly sensitive there and you made a note to remember that in the future. He retaliated by latching his lips on one of your nipples, causing your back to arch. You felt one of his fingers slip into you at the same time while his thumb circled your bud. The fire that coursed through your veins was overwhelming and your breathing became erratic. He slipped another finger into you and upped the pace, dragging in and out with the rhythm of your hips moving. 

His name tumbled from your lips over and over again like you were reciting a prayer. His mouth left marks across your chest and neck, some of which you knew would not be able to cover. You had a feeling it was deliberate. In your haze of pleasure, you could feel your body pull taught. The point of no return was met. 

“Com… Commodus, I–” Your voice hitched as his thumb rolled over your bud once more. 

Against the heat of your skin, his voice murmured, “I know, darling. Let go.” It was as if that was the final straw you needed. 

The tense string of your body snapped and you found yourself shattering. He continued his movements, helping you ride out your high. Your head lolled to the side as you shut your eyes. His fingers moved out of you and you suddenly felt sad at the loss of contact. You craved more and wished to spend the rest of your time living in this bed with Commodus. 

“Open your eyes for me,” Commodus’ hands cradled your face. You slowly opened your eyes, staring right into his. His lips turned up, “There’s my girl.” He leaned in to kiss you and groaned at the feeling. Your body was still sensitive and recovering from your orgasm, but you craved more of him. 

“Commodus… please.” There were no other words that needed to be said. His movements were eager, but not rushed. He shifted up so he was on his knees and grabbed his cock that was slick with precum. Slowly, almost painfully, he dragged the tip along your folds. You whimpered at the feeling and lifted your hips to feel more friction. 

The haze of your previous peak was still heavy. You understood then why some people were so provocative in their transgressions. If you could stay like this with him forever you would stake your life to the ground and take that deal in a heartbeat. 

You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning too much at just the feel of his cock against your folds. He collected your slick on his skin, trailing up again until the head got caught right at your entrance. Gradually, he pushed forward until he bottomed out. You saw his eyebrows furrow and noise leave his mouth that was a mix of a sigh and a groan. He muttered a few curses. 

Commodus did not rush as he was content at the pace he was going because it made you come undone and desperate for anything more. The feeling of being so full made you squirm. You wanted friction or anything to bring back the feeling of ecstasy you had. Your heart felt like it was going to pump out of your chest. Being connected like this with him was the best feeling in the world and you cursed your past self for believing it was a silly fantasy. This was real; real and raw and so good.

He slowly pulled out, dragging until the last moment to make you feel empty. You whined at the loss of his warmth but quickly shut up when he pushed back in, burying himself to the hilt. He repeated that action a few times, each getting faster until he set a steady pace. Your hips matched his movements. His face was buried in your neck with his lips brushing the shell of your ear. You could hear his moans and grunts which only spurred you on further. 

You scratched the planes of his back, digging deeper with each thrust. Even when so deeply connected it did not feel like it was enough. Nothing could ever feel enough to be connected with him. Your scratching made Commodus move faster, picking up the pace. 

The change of speed caused you to release your hold on him, finding little energy to lift your arms. It was like you were under a spell and completely under his influence. 

“That’s it, gods, good girl,” Commodus murmured into your ear. You moaned back with small babbles of his name as your brain was unable to form a single thought other than him; his presence, his feel, him, him, him. It consumed your mind and left you a squirming mess. 

He took your hands that had fallen, grabbed your wrists, and pinned them above your head. Your legs wrapped around his waist and it changed the angle at which he was thrusting into you. The tip of his cock hit a soft spot in you that had you chasing stars at the back of your eyes. The stretch that he gave you was a good ache, one that spread out from your core and burned through your body.  

Commodus began to mutter words with each thrust, “Mine. My girl. My Venus.” He went on and on. Your chest rose against his, pushing for a bit more contact. You wanted to reach out and touch him, but his grip on your wrist was tight. His breath hit the shell of your ear, tickling it slightly. 

The familiar feeling of your build-up hit you and Commodus could tell. He continued the steady rhythm but changed the angle to reach deeper. You nearly shouted at the difference. While he was relentless, his posture changed slightly, becoming less composed as he chased the same high you were experiencing. Both of you could feel the bed moving under you, its sturdy build taking the movement. 

You were wound up again and pulled taught, but this time it felt more intense than the previous. Commodus lost his movement and fucked you with reckless abandon. All manner of control was lost and his perfect posture faltered. It seemed, like you, he had become just as mindless and broken down – doing everything possible to chase pleasure. Despite it all, you could still feel the care that he had for you in the way he muttered sweet nothings into your ear. You squeezed around his length as the build-up in your stomach started to increase. 

“Let go, love. Let me hear you.” Commodus instructed. 

Suddenly, like the waves that crashed against the shores of the home of your childhood, a flood of ecstasy came over you as you reached your peak and descended off of it. Your wanton moans filled the room, matching the sounds the two of you had been making for a while. Commodus visibly relished in it, nipping at your earlobe and kissing your neck. The feeling of your orgasm caused your walls to squeeze and made his movements falter. 

He pulled out suddenly, right as he came. The hot strings of cum coated your lower abdomen. He moved to rest his forehead on yours, eyes closed and face scrunched in the heat of his pleasure. Your legs felt numb. Commodus almost collapsed on top of you. He released his hold on your wrists and held himself up by his forearms on either side of your head. 

The two of you joined in a kiss. This one was a sharp contrast to the quick pace you had. It was slow and passionate, full of trust and care. His hands tangled in your hair, pushing it back with a gentleness unseen. Your hands rested on his broad shoulders, feeling the perspiration that gathered there. Both of your bodies came down from the high, chests rising and falling. 

You thought back to just a few short weeks ago when you were invited into his room. You were incredibly glad he only wanted company then. If not for that, you would have never been able to build this relationship with him. Moreso, you were incredibly thankful your younger self decided to sing at that festival and caught his attention. It seemed that little actions in life led to big changes. 

It still felt absurd now with your change of position. You were no longer a servant, no longer expected to fulfill the duties that had your body aching and mind hurting at the end of the day. 

It was so ridiculous to you, that you could not help but let out a chuckle. Commodus moved his forehead from yours and opened his eyes. You wished to get lost in those eyes. 

“And what do you find so amusing, hm?” He spoke. 

You looked at him with adoration, “Is it wrong to be happy?” 

“No,” Commodus moved to rest beside you, taking a spare cloth from the wash basin placed beside the bed and wiping your stomach down. There was something in his movements that felt almost… domestic. It was not something you ever thought of an emperor doing. “I’m glad you are happy.” 

A beat of silence passed as he laid down next to you on his back and used an arm to pull you flush against him. Your head rested on his pec, hearing the thumping of his heart. 

“Are you happy?” You asked. He squeezed you closer and kissed your temple.

“You made me happy long before all of this.” He answered. Your face scrunched up with wonder. 

“What do you mean?” You lifted your head to look into his eyes, fingers tracing patterns onto his chest. 

“Your singing. It followed me everywhere since that festival. From my mind,” He placed one hand over yours and guided it right above where his heart would be, “to here.” 

There were no words you could think of to respond with. The poetics of his words hit you. You wanted to drown in him, to stay there in that moment for a lifetime. You reached out to trace his jaw, thumb massaging the top of his cheekbone. He leaned into your touch and kissed the pulse point of your wrist. 

“I don’t know how I could ever thank you, for everything,” You could barely imagine what it would be like back in your old life, under the constant fear of your old master, “I may not know what I can do to repay you but–”

“Stay with me.” He interrupted you. There was a shine in his eyes, “You want to repay me? Stay. That is all I need.” 

You stared at him and nodded your head, “I’ll always stay.”

The two of you understood the depths of the promise. It was your own declaration of love, without the words being spoken. A mutual understanding and a promise of forever. It was not traditional to other couples, but again you knew this relationship already did not fit within the bounds of traditionality. It did not matter. 

You kissed him again, sealing the words upon both of your lips. There, you were content to start a new life; a better life.

This was incredibly fun to write! I am 100% open to writing more fics for any characters in the Gladiator films and plan to open up requests. So, if that's something ya'll are interested in, let me know.

Thank you all for the support! <3

​The house on the Aventine Hill had become a tomb long before the physician finally shook his head. It started with a dry cough, then the fever, and within months the disease had taken your husband, leaving you a widow in a home that smelled only of sickness, regret, and stagnant grief. You couldn’t stay there,you couldn’t look at the sunny courtyard without seeing his ghost coughing blood into the fountain, and the sorrow didn't just make you weep:it unraveled you. It was Lucilla who saved you. She had always kept a quiet yet protective eye on you, bound by a secret ,lingering history with your brother Maximus that neither of them ever spoke aloud. And when word of your situation reached her,she didn't wait for imperial permission or anything distantly similar. She brought you straight into her own apartments at the Palatine palace,offering you a sanctuary where you could mourn away from the whispers of the city.

For months, you were just a silent fixture at the edge of the court, a ghost in a black stola moving through the marble corridors, but you were never invisible to Commodus.

At first, it was nothing but a cold, simmering astio...a resentment so thick it choked the air whenever you crossed paths. Before the court was ordered to move north to join the Emperor’s winter camp in Germania,Marcus Aurelius's letters would arrive in Rome, and Lucilla would read them aloud. Every scroll praised the brilliant campaigns of General Maximus, declaring how the gods favored him and how Rome owed him its survival. Commodus would listen, his knuckles turning white around his goblet, his eyes burning with the humiliation of a son left behind in the capital, and the very first thing he would do was look across the room and fix his gaze on you. You had Maximus’s blood. You had that same quiet, infuriatingly stoic dignity that made Commodus feel small, and he despised you for it, treating you with a cruel, almost mocking frostiness.

The breaking point came when the decree arrived: Commodus and Lucilla were to travel to Germania to join the Emperor for the final phase of the war.

​You went to Lucilla practically on your knees, begging to go with them. Maximus was the only family you had left, the only person who could tether you back to the living world after your husband’s death. So if you wanted something at that moment it was certainly to be able to see him again, and you also secretely thought about going to stay with your little nephew for a while,after all you were sure that Maximus would be in favor of this. Lucilla wanted to grant it, but Commodus intervened. The memory of that night was etched into the marble of the palace gardens. You had intercepted him near the statue of Apollo, trying to plead your case, but he had only laughed:a sharp, ugly sound that lacked any real mirth.

​"The northern front is no place for a weeping widow, Y/N." he sneered, stepping so close you could feel the heat radiating from his chest ​"Or perhaps you just want to run to the golden boy? I don't know why...but it seems you're all quite taken with him." he says with a tight, breathless little laugh that doesn't reach his empty eyes.

​"He is my brother, Commodus" you shot back,your voice cracking with a raw, defensive anger that made him blink. You stepped closer, refusing to let him reduce your grief to court politics. "I do not care about your father’s legions,or whoever is taken by him. I have lost my husband. I am slowly drowning in this palace,and Maximus is the only piece of my blood left alive. Only him can help me heal from my wound...I just want my brother,you can not deny me that."

​You looked up at him, and for the first time, beneath his venom, you saw the sheer, pathetic agony in his face:the hollow, desperate hunger of a boy begging for crumbs of affection from a father who was never there. You recognized that shadow of neglect; it looked dangerously like your own empty home. Instead of pulling away, your anger dissolved into a sudden, heavy exhaustion. Hoping that being kind could lead to different results,you let out a soft yet fractured breath and reached out, your fingertips brushing his cold cheek.

​"I know that look,we are both haunted by men who aren't here." you whispered, your thumb catching the edge of his jaw. "You are losing a father to his endless wars, and I have lost a husband to the earth. Do not take my brother from me too."

​Commodus froze. His breath hitched completely, his body turning to stone under the touch of your bare hand. No one had ever touched him like this except his dear sister:you had touched his wound with absolute gentleness, linking your tragedy to his. For a long, suffocating moment, he didn't move, his eyes staring down into yours with a sudden, terrifying confusion that slowly morphed into something heavy and consuming. Then, slowly, he gripped your wrist, his fingers clamping down until his thumb pressed hard into your pulse.

​"A widow belongs in the shadows of the capital, not the mud of Germany." he commanded, his voice dropping into a low, breathless whisper as he stared at your lips. "You will remain in Rome. If Maximus wants to see his blood, he will have to survive the winter and come back to you."

He let go of your wrist with a sudden, jarring abruptness,as if your skin had burned him,and vanished back into the deep shadows of the colonnade. He left you alone in the dark, your heart hammering against your ribs with utter frustration. Later you were informed that Lucilla also tried to convince him,but for some reason it was of no use.

The months that followed crawled by in a suffocating,silent vacuum. While you were trapped on the Palatine, pacing the marble floors and waiting for any scrap of news,an horrific tragedy was unfolding thousands of miles away in the freezing mud of Germany:Marcus Aurelius was murdered,Maximus was condemned to death,and his family was slaughtered. But to you,the official ravens only brought the filtered, terrifying truth of the new regime: Emperor Marcus Aurelius is dead of natural causes. His son Commodus is now the sole ruler of Rome. General Maximus has proven a traitor and he was killed for it.

​You knew it was a lie, you knew your brother’s heart, but the sheer isolation of the palace felt like a chokehold. No letters came from Maximus. No whispers. Only the terrifying reality that your dear brother had been wiped from the face of the earth, leaving you entirely alone.

Apparently the grief did not want to abandon you,having become too attached to you:it once again hollowed you out until you felt like a ghost walking among the living. You would sit for hours on the cold floor of your chambers, your hands pressed against your chest as if you could physically hold your lungs from collapsing under the weight of it all. You had lost a husband to sickness,and now the gods had taken your brother too...it was too much to bear.

And then came the regret. Your mind kept dragging you straight back to that night in the palace gardens with Commodus. You replayed his words over and over;the cruel laugh combined at the way his fingers had bruised your wrist when he told you to stay in Rome. You couldn't help but think about different possible endings. What if you had begged harder? What if you had just defied his orders, stolen a horse, and ridden north anyway? Maybe you could have just seen him one last time,hugged him,and told him you loved him before everything shattered. Instead, you had let Commodus leave you behind, and that choice felt like a betrayal of your own blood.

​When Commodus finally returned to Rome,he didn't return as the neglected prince he was before Germany. He entered the city in a blinding display of triumph, riding a white chariot through streets packed with citizens who cheered out of sheer terror, his sister Lucilla seated beside him with a face like carved ice.

​That same night, the great hall of the Palatine was suffocatingly crowded. You stood near the back pillars,your black mourning stola bleeding into the shadows,your heart hammering against your ribs as the massive iron doors flew open. Commodus entered, flanked by his towering Praetorians, the purple imperial robes sweeping the floor behind him. He dismissed the greeting senators with a careless wave of his hand,ignoring the court officials completely as his eyes swept the cavernous room, searching, until they locked instantly onto you.

​He didn't hesitate. He strode straight through the sea of whispering patricians,the crowd parting before his armor like water, until he stopped so close you could smell the dust of the northern roads and the metallic tang of iron on him. He didn't speak. He just reached out:his fingers slowly catching your chin,forcing your head back until you had no choice but to look up into his dangerously erratic eyes.

​"Your brother was a traitor,Y/N" he whispered, his voice dangerously low, cutting through the breathless silence of the hall like a razor, "And...he got what traitors deserve. But you didn't leave,you stayed." His grip tightened involuntarily as his gaze traced your features,realizing the absolute power he now held over Maximus's own flesh and blood:this was his redemption. Maximus's sister would love and revere him,proving to the world and to his father's ghost,that he,the new Caesar, was worth so much more than the man who had stolen everything from him. "So,tell me you are glad your emperor is home. Give me your loyalty."

_ _ _

Marcus considered you his son’s private tutor. Commodus, however, considered you his second-in-command.

The old king furrowed his brows. “Well. He will need you now. More than ever.” With that, he disappeared. Commodus had followed soon after, a large smile on his face.

“My Lady! He will announce it this evening. I’m sure of it.”

Something felt off. You didn’t know what. “Perhaps… perhaps he will do it tomorrow, my Lord. Or in the coming days. I’m certain he wants to give the soldiers their day in the sun.”

He smiled as he stepped through the swathes of material separating you. You were now face to face. “You are so wise, Y/N. You are right.” His voice was dripping with…. something. An emotion you couldn’t pinpoint. One that felt deeply unsavoury. Inappropriate, even.

You cleared your throat. “Yes, Your Highness. It’s my duty to provide you with guidance, after all.”

“Y/N, please. We are alone. Please don’t call me that.” His voice was low. A whisper. He smiled tenderly. A Pretorian Guard entered the room and announced that Commodus was requested by the Emperor. A look of boyish excitement spread through his face. You could read his thoughts: It’s my time.

Commodus didn’t reappear. The party died down. And, tired from your journey to Germania with Commodus, you had turned in for the evening. Whatever Commodus learned from Marcus could wait until tomorrow.

Or so you thought.

And here you were. A Pretorian Guard had called for you. The Emperor wanted to see you.

You followed the guard through the corridors of the beautiful space. You were asked to wait outside until the Emperor was ready for you. You had just spoken with Marcus before you went to bed. What on earth would he want with you now?

You listened to the conversation happening inside the room. You recognised Commodus’ voice instantly.

“Ameen with me, brother. Our great father is dead.”

Your eyes widened at his words. How could Marcus be dead? You spoke to him only hours ago.

The guard eyed you intently. You straightened your back, acted stoic, and pretended you weren’t listening to every sound in that room.

You heard everything.

The surgeon said his breath gave out as he slept. He felt no pain.

A long silence.

Your Emperor asks for your loyalty, Maximus.

And then.

Take my hand. I offer it only once.

Followed by mutters.

You heard Maximus shouting in the distance.

Closer to you, you heard two hard slaps. Followed by Lucilla’s voice.

Hail Caesar.

Quintos walked past you. He told the guard, “It’s done.”

Quintos turned to you and nodded. “My Lady.”

Your eyes became wet. Marcus was dead. And you had every certainty who’s hands he died at.

You gasped and jumped in shock when the curtain opened. You turned to see Commodus standing there. His eyes were brimming with tears. He wore a distant, dissociative expression.

“My father is dead.” He spoke matter-of-fact. “Come.”

He turned his back and you followed him. He walked you through what must have been the quarters of Marcus. It looked palatial. Statues. Gold. Fine materials. And there, on the bed, lay Marcus. You stopped. Commodus turned when he realised you were no longer following him. You couldn’t take your eyes off Marcus. It was surreal.

“You wish to pay your respects. You may.” He gestured towards the bed.

You nodded in response to Commodus, while you continued staring straight ahead. Slowly, you walked towards the late Emperor. You felt a gentle hand on your back. Commodus.

“It’s a shock. I know.” His voice was gentle. Still, you daren’t look at him.

Slowly, you sunk to your knees. You prayed. Commodus knelt with you. Silently, he thanked the Gods for your grace. For your love towards his father. For your respect. Your loyalty. You rose to your feet. You placed a hand over the still hand of Marcus. Silently, you promised to help his son.

You turned to Commodus. He was Emperor now. Should you kiss his ring? Or curtsey? Frankly, he looked as though he needed a hug. He sensed your uncertainty.

“Come. We will rest in private.” He placed a gentle hand on your upper arm, stroking it. He offered you a small smile.

She looks terrified. She knows. She most certainly knows.

“Here. Take my arm.” He tilted his chin up proudly. He looked down at you through long, dark eyelashes.

You slipped your hand through his arm, smiling. You felt relief. He was still Commodus. The one you knew so well. He smiled proudly as he led you through to a private room.

He poured you both some wine, handing you a goblet. You hesitated before sipping. You looked at him, waiting for him to drink.

“I assure you, it’s not poisoned.” He gave you a smirk, like he always did when he made a bad joke. But this felt different. A little more sinister. Or were you imaging it?

You looked him in the eye. And you sipped.

“My father always said, you were my tutor,” he began, pacing. He spoke authoritatively. After all, he was Caesar now. “But you should know, Y/N, I have always viewed you as more than that.” He turned to you. He licked at the corner of his mouth, a habit he had when he felt nervous. “Do you feel that, too, Y/N?”

You were frozen still. You couldn’t answer him. Not without knowing for certain.

“Commodus.” You straightened your back, mustered all of your courage. You stepped towards him. “You value honesty. As do I. Honesty, respect and love – they are inextricably linked. So tell me the truth, now. What happened?”

His eyes fluttered. Excessive blinking was a sure sign of his discomfort. His eyes glanced to the makeshift door. Made only of layers of fabric, it was far from soundproof. He lowered his voice.

“I have a feeling you already know.”

Your skin blistered with fear. Still, you spoke with courage.

“So you did. You did it.”

“It wasn’t… it wasn’t planned.” He continued to whisper. “I assure you.”

Was a spontaneous murder any better? You thought not.

“He was to give my powers over to the General. He wanted Rome to become a Republic. I could not let that happen. You understand, don’t you?”

You had frozen again. Were you even safe with him now?

“You’re afraid of me?”

“No.”

“Y/N. Tell me the truth.”

“A little, yes. And there are few things that frighten me.”

“Is there anything I can do to place your mind at ease?”

“Tell me. Tell me how.”

He nodded. He understood. He explained in gestures only. No words were required. He gestured to someone on their knees in front of him. He placed his hands apart, although he was placing his hands either side of someone’s face. He moved his hands towards his stomach. His hands moved now, as though they were at the back of this person’s head. You noticed as his face contorted in anguish. He pushed his hands inwards, as though he was forcing their head into his body. As he did so, he collapsed to his knees and started crying.

You dropped to the ground to be beside him. “Commodus… Commodus…”

He cried hysterically. His eyes contained equal amounts of grief, guilt, shame, and regret. You held him until his tears subsided. You stoked his hair, which soothed him. He felt like a child in your arms. Lifetimes away from the Emperor he had become. You remembered your promise to his father. I will help him become a better man.

“Commodus. You called for me. I sense there is something you wanted to ask of me.”

He looked up at you. His deep, dark eyes were full of emotion.

“Here,” you whispered, giving him your hand and helping him to his feet.

“I… I should be offering my hand to you,” he sniffed. He was trying to be better already.

He looked around the space and saw two large chairs next to a table. They were positioned close to a map of the empire.

“Let us sit here, in peace, together.”

Whether it was an offer or a command, either way you followed him to the table. He pulled out a chair for you, and you sat. He picked up a large throne-like chair – it was surely his fathers – and placed it down close to you. He angled the chair to face you. You repeated the motion. He sat, you both facing one another.

“I have a gap in my knowledge,” he started. “It appears that… after all my training, we have… we have missed one vital element.”

You furrowed your brows. You had covered everything. Whatever was he referring to?

His cheeks flushed as he leaned in and dropped his voice several volumes lower. “We seem to have missed… the last chapter.” He gave you a knowing look, as if this would mean something to you.

What you did know is only this… that he referenced the book his father had given you both, penned by Marcus Aurelius himself. It covered all essential elements of becoming the ruler the Empire needed. But you had diligently covered every chapter, in detail, several times over.

“The final chapter, my Lord – is Governance of the Senate. We covered this. And, I suspect it’s not something you wish to keep in any case.”

He looked confused now. “N-no. No, Y/N. The last chapter. Surely you know what I’m referring to.” He glanced down, his eyelashes fluttering. His cheeks flushed once more. “Must I say it?”

You placed a caring hand on his face. “I’m afraid you’ll have to.” You had no idea what he was talking about.

His mouth moved open as if to speak. No words came out. “Excuse me.”

He rose from his seat. Was he leaving? He walked over to his father’s book shelves, running his fingers along the spines until he found the one he searched for. He removed it, dusting off the front cover. He licked his fingers and thumbed the pages. He placed it down in front of you.

“This one.”

Chapter XVI: The Art of Love

You looked up at him. You had never seen this before.

“This wasn’t in my book,” you said simply.

“W-well… why would… why would he remove it?” Commodus was just as confused as you were. “May I sit?” He was extra polite all of a sudden. You nodded. He sat.

He took your hands in his, ever so gently. “I… I was waiting. I was waiting for us to reach this chapter. I wondered if I must pass a test of some kind in order for me to reach this stage.”

You looked at him earnestly. “Commodus. I didn’t know. But, now I do… please tell me what you need.”

He mustered all of his courage and tilted his head proudly. “Would you teach me?” He gulped down on the fear in his throat. “Would you teach me the art of pleasure?”

You nodded. “Yes.” You picked up the book. Turned the first page of the final chapter. You passed it back to him. “Read it to me.” You had no idea if this was ever supposed to be form of his father’s curriculum. Frankly you were making it up as you went along. And besides, Commodus was Emperor now. His command was for this chapter to be fulfilled. And his command would be obeyed.

He held the book and looked up at you over its pages. He read aloud. “There comes a time in a young man’s life when he turns the corner from boy to man. When it comes to ruling an Empire, it is just as essential to be versed in the art of love, as it is to finesse the skills of swordsmanship and proficiencies on horseback. By refining his skills in love, the young Emperor will ensure a steady line of suitors, the best in the Empire, and will rightly secure an heir.” He looked up at you with trepidation.

You took the book from him and placed it down on the table. You closed it. “That was what your father wanted.” You leaned in further. “But what do you want?”

He grinned fiendishly. He leaned in further. Your mouths were a mere inch apart. “I will have the most skilled tongue in all of Rome. They will talk about it. Whispers will form in the palace hallways, and make their way into the alcoves of the Senate. They will titter and talk in the bustle of the town and in the sand of the Colosseum. They will wonder if it is true. Men will envy me. And women will desire me. And…” he paused, wetting his lips with his tongue. “…the future Empress will be satisfied every night of her life.”

You gulped down hard. Over the years you had witnessed his dedication to honing his craft on horseback, of studying every detail of empire governance, and of course refining his skills with his sword. You had no doubt this diligence and dedication would spill over into his next endeavour. This future Empress would be fortunate indeed.

“Are you not…” you paused, your breathing increasing without your consent. “Are you not already skilled in the art of pleasure?” You had heard laughter and moans from his chambers as concubines came and went in the evening. You were certain he was no virgin.

“Yes. But in the art of receiving pleasure only. I will learn how to give pleasure. Would you teach me?” His eyes dropped to your mouth, and back up to your eyes. A feeling stirred between your legs.

“Yes.”

He stood authoritatively. “Good. We will remain in Germania for the next week. We will congratulate our men. Ensure the armies are in good order. Well fed. Healthy. Fit for return to their homes. You and I, we will bathe, we will treat our skin with the finest oils, we will rest and eat well. And ensure we are fit to return to Rome. And you, you will remain by my side.”

It was most certainly an order.

You stood. Gently, you picked up his hand in yours, and placed your lips on the ring. You closed your eyes with devotion, missing the expression of your Emperor as you did so. He was full of adoration at your gesture.

“Please. Rise.”

You stood. He smiled. And he turned to leave.

“Commodus?” You called after him.

The Emperor turned. You stepped forward.

“What happened to the General? I must know.”

He stood up straight. “I ordered him executed.”

Well. Shit.

With a nod, he was gone.

***

“Commodus… I’m exhausted.”

He had been practicing since morning. Through the small windows of the carriage, you could see the sun starting to set. You were traveling back to Rome from Germania. You were both looking much more tidy. Freshly bathed, with the oils he had promised for your skin. The new Emperor was now cleanly-shaven, with short hair, ready for his arrival back in Rome.

“But I want to get it right.” He said, looking up at you from in between your legs. His hands cupped underneath your thighs. “I must get it right.”

It was an odd statement from a man who had made you come from morning until dusk, but he was obsessive in his search for excellence and would not be stopped.

“My darling boy…” You gave him a ‘come hither’ movement with your fingers. Obediently, he stood. “While you have mastered the art of your tongue. I must confess. The art of pleasure is not simply mechanical.”

He frowned. Wasn’t it? He listened intently to your next words.

“It’s not only the movement of your tongue and your fingertips, skilled though they are. It’s about the art of… seduction.”

Ahhh…

A look of realisation spread across his face.

“Seduce me.”

He froze. Then, he stood up proudly. You closed your legs and lay back on the day bed, awaiting your seduction.

He spoke loudly. “I am the Emperor. And I command you to become weak in my presence.”

Your eyes glanced up into your head. You frowned.

“No. No that wasn’t it, was it…” He placed a hand on his stomach self-consciously. He looked down at the ground of the carriage, searching it for answers. He cleared his throat.

“You will lie back… as I ravish you. Again… and again…” He spoke softly now and narrowed his eyes. “And again.”

“Better,” you told him honestly.

“What am I missing?” He asked, scurrying onto the day bed, leaning over you. He looked into your eyes. You shifted in place.

“Well… you are more seductive right now. When you’re not… trying so hard.”

“Then, what should I do?” He asked keenly.

“Simply…” you shrugged. “Do whatever you would like to do… if I was someone you wanted to make love to. If I was someone you longed for. Ached for. If I was someone in your fantasies. If I was someone who were in love with.”

Does she know…?

His lower lip trembled. He nodded. “Yes. Yes of course.”

Slowly, he lifted up his right hand. He moved it up towards your face, ever so slowly. He kept his eyes on your lips as he did so. He whispered to you in one breath, “Open your mouth.” Your chest rose and fell as you parted your lips for him. He continued eying you intently, as though you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Painfully slowly, he swept a trembling finger over your lower lip. Then, he swept his finger under your top lip. His eyes moved to his fingertips now, as he lifted his digits to his lips. He kept his fingers perfectly still, so as not to waste even a cell of your taste. He placed the pad of his middle finger in his mouth. He closed his eyes as he tasted you. A look of pure, genuine, unadulterated ecstasy engulfed his features.

He opened his eyes. Your mouth had fallen further open. Your eyes were wide. Your chest continued to rise and fall rapidly. He moved his hand back towards your face, brushing your cheek with the back of his fingertips. He leaned in, his lips moving towards yours into a kiss. You tilted your chin to meet him. An inch from you, he stopped. He didn’t kiss you. He rested his head on your chest now. He stroked the soft silk of your dress. And then, he spoke.

“And how was that?”

You mumbled. Words were too difficult to form. Commodus positioned himself fully over you now, his legs straddling you.

“Would it please the Empress, do you think?”

“I-I… I’m certain it would, yes.” Your lower lip trembled with desire.

He smiled lovingly.

She doesn’t know.

“Allow me to rephrase.” He brushed his thumb over your lower lip. “Did it please you?”

You nodded. “Y-yes.”

“Then it pleased the future Empress.” The warmth of his emotions was palpable.

“I’m… I’m not certain I understand.”

“Please, Y/N.” He brushed a strand of hair from your face and tucked it behind your ear. “You have always known I wanted you beside me. For how long have I called you my second-in-command?”

“For as long as I can remember.” You smiled with him now. It was all becoming clear.

“And what else would you call an Emperor’s second-in-command?”

“An Empress.”

He placed his lips on yours, kissing you for the first time. When your lips parted, he spoke simply.

“We will arrive in Rome in two weeks. I would very much like you by my side during my coronation.”

You smiled mischievously. “Well. It seems we should ensure we have practiced sufficiently to ensure you have all the skills befitting of an Emperor.”

He laughed as he kissed you again and lifted up the hem of your dress.

“As long as the Empress is pleased, I am deserving of the title of Caesar…”

His words trailed off as his mouth met your centre.