Spoilers: mild for first season
Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine.
It starts in a street, a chance encounter after the days Senatorial session is closed. Antony makes a choice remark; Brutus’ eyes travel up Antony’s body in appraisal and dismissal. Antony smiles. The game is on.
Antony has the power on his side – with Caesar gone, he’s the ruler of the city.
When he calls Brutus to his home, Brutus answers, with a quiet dignity. After Brutus steps into the room, it takes him a moment to realize the figure reclining on the couch is naked – legs slightly spread, just enough to display –
“Antony,” Brutus greets, through gritted teeth, but his eyes flick across Antony’s chest, and this time his response isn’t so cold.
Antony watches Brutus from the far side of the party; Brutus can feel the man’s gaze burning through the cloth of his toga. So, he makes Antony’s gaze worthwhile. He sits just so, arches his neck, traces the line of his mouth with the edge of his thumb. Takes a bite of food, lets his eyes close, mouth open just a little.
Brutus feels Antony’s lust rage, all the way across the room.
Eventually, a rough hand pulls Brutus aside, into a hallway. He is pressed to the wall, legs pushed apart so he’s a hair shorter than Antony.
Brutus’ heartbeat thunders.
“You’re a tease,” Antony breathes into his ear, and Brutus shivers.
“If you want something from me, you ask for it.”
Antony regards Brutus for a long moment, and a smile quirks the edge of his mouth. “I want to fuck you,” he says, bluntly.
“On my terms,” says Brutus.
Antony raises an eyebrow.
“Prepare me,” says Brutus, the breathy quality of his voice belying the ache of his body. He’s already half-hard, his breath coming just a little too quickly. “If you hurt me, this stops now.”
Antony cocks his head to the side. “I assure you, Senator, that I have…experience with this,” he smirks, and then he moves down, his breath hot against Brutus’ neck. “You won’t mind the pain, when it comes.”
Brutus knows his eyes will be dark, his skin flushed. Antony notices, his gaze raking greedily over Brutus’ naked form. Brutus doesn’t flush or pull away, this time – he draws his legs up, draws them open. “Antony,” he says, firmly.
Finally, Antony’s fingers move to the cleft of Brutus’ ass.
By the time Antony is fucking him, Brutus doesn’t have to tell Antony to be gentle. He already is, letting Brutus ride the wave of each thrust, holding Brutus secure against the mattress.
Brutus doesn’t have to tell Antony that he’s afraid, either.
“Like this, Brutus?” Antony murmurs, his tongue soothing the sweat from Brutus’ skin. “You want it like this?”
Brutus arches into the next thrust, his lips pressed together, swallowing the helpless whine. He’s above Antony, he’s above this –
But somehow, it’s not a game anymore.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” croons Antony, stroking Brutus’ hair.
“No,” whispers Brutus. Gods help him.