One Night in Gaul, Caesar/Brutus, NC-17
Jul. 17th, 2006 09:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
anitabuchanTitle: One Night in Gaul
Fandom: Conn Iggulden's Emperor series
Characters: Julius Caesar/Marcus Brutus
Prompt: 060 - Drink.
Word Count: 1034
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Brutus gets drunk. Julius finds him.
Author's Notes: Slash, angst, and no historical accuracy whatsoever.
“Julius!”
Julius winced as his name was called, loud and slurred. He turned to see Brutus lurch out of the shadows, staggering with none of his usual grace. Julius could smell him more clearly than he could see him. Drunk.
Brutus stumbled over, almost falling against him. Julius caught him instinctively, then reconsidered it. A hard impact with the ground might sober him up a little. Not to mention add to the lesson he’d get next morning.
But the middle of a military camp was never free of watching eyes, and Julius didn’t want to imagine what the men would say if they saw Julius drop his lead general. Besides, having Brutus plastered against him, limp and boneless…
Well, it couldn’t be called a bad thing.
With a struggle, Julius got Brutus’s arm over his shoulder, using it to drag the other man along. After a few steps, he realised he wasn’t entirely sure where Brutus’s tent was. His own tent, then.
By the time they’d reached it Brutus had sobered slightly. Not enough that he’d remember anything he said, but at least sober enough that he could say it.
And say it he did, breath hot and wet against Julius’s cheek. “I love you.”
Familiar words, from the old days, before Spain. The thought made Julius frown. Had it really been so long since he’d heard that phrase from Brutus? He could remember saying it to the other man…
Oh, yes. He could remember the last time he’d said it to Brutus. Brutus had walked in on his mother having sex with Julius. In hindsight, Julius should have locked the door.
He dragged Brutus inside, ignoring the amusement of the guard posted outside. The first room of the tent was still a mess from the afternoon meeting; Julius pulled Brutus through it, into the inner room, where they couldn’t be overheard. Julius didn’t want any drunken words becoming camp gossip.
“I love you,” Brutus repeated as Julius finally dropped him, onto the bedding. “More than anything. Anyone else.”
Julius patted his side, wondering if he should call a slave to undress Brutus or just do it himself. “I love you too.”
“More than my mother?” Brutus demanded, struggling and failing to sit up. He didn't seem completely aware of where he was, and Julius hoped he hadn’t been saying this in other company.
Deciding not to call a slave, he bent to unlace Brutus’s boots himself. Despite the cold, the other man wore no cloak or gloves. Julius had heard he’d given them away to men on watch. Typical, if he had. No awareness that as a general, he was more valuable than common soldiers. No common sense.
“You love m’mother more,” Brutus slurred. He sounded sleepy, and Julius thanked the gods. He knew his temper wouldn’t take many more questions like that.
“I love both of you,” he said, and then added something he’d never dare if Brutus was less drunk: “You’re so alike. Both so strong and proud.” Brutus let his pride fuel his temper, but in Servilia that had mellowed. Julius wondered if it would in Brutus, too. And how old he’d be by then. Too old for long marches across the Alps, no doubt.
Brutus didn’t reply, and Julius wondered if he was asleep. But when he dropped the second boot onto the floor and leaned up to check, Brutus grabbed him with surprising strength, dragging him down. He watched Julius closely. “Does she do this?”
How he’d gotten his hand there, Julius didn’t know, but he felt Brutus’s fingers slip across the top of his thigh and close around his cock. He felt his eyes widen, and reached out to brace himself against the bed. “What are you doing?”
Brutus smirked, and Julius suddenly wondered how drunk Brutus really was. “Has it been so long you’ve forgotten?”
It was like in the old days, when Brutus would still challenge Julius, still look at him with that mixture of fierce pride and fiercer love, before the gap between them had grown too wide. Julius felt himself respond, hips jerking into Brutus’s grasp. Brutus tightened his fingers in response, creating a warm sheath for Julius to thrust into.
Julius’s arms trembled, and he stopped holding himself up, letting his body drop onto Brutus. This was what he had missed, he realised: someone that could take his strength and weight, and give more back in return. Where he would have crushed Servilia, Brutus just pressed up, grinding against Julius.
Julius kissed him, hard and deep, almost using more teeth than tongue. Brutus let his legs fall open in response, letting Julius settle between them. Julius just hardened the kiss, grinding down. He must have hurt Brutus’s wrist, but the other man didn’t complain, keeping his hand squeezed tight around Julius’s cock.
It didn’t take long. Julius felt his body stiffened, shudders running though his legs. He fought back the cry, burying his face in Brutus’s neck as he came.
Brutus withdrew his hand, before worming it back between their bodies, still sticky and wet. Julius shifted to give him better access as Brutus slipped his hand under his own clothes, hand moving against Julius’s stomach as he jerked himself off.
Julius waited until Brutus was finished before rolling off, and going to fetch a wet cloth. Brutus just lay still, until Julius threw him the cloth; he wiped himself without looking, dropping it on the floor.
Julius stared at him, remembering why he’d been outside in the first place. Someone needed to check the men on watch paid attention, and tonight was Brutus’s night off…
“I need to go,” he said, not bothering to check if Brutus was awake behind closed eyelids. “Check on the watches. You should sleep it off.”
There was no response from the body on the bed. Julius hesitated a moment longer, before turning and walking out. The guard offered him a commiserating grin – drunk friends, eh? – which Julius didn’t return.
He needed to check the watches. And maybe he could get Brutus his cloak back. The other man would freeze if the weather got much worse, and he’d never accept the gift of a new one.
Fandom: Conn Iggulden's Emperor series
Characters: Julius Caesar/Marcus Brutus
Prompt: 060 - Drink.
Word Count: 1034
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Brutus gets drunk. Julius finds him.
Author's Notes: Slash, angst, and no historical accuracy whatsoever.
“Julius!”
Julius winced as his name was called, loud and slurred. He turned to see Brutus lurch out of the shadows, staggering with none of his usual grace. Julius could smell him more clearly than he could see him. Drunk.
Brutus stumbled over, almost falling against him. Julius caught him instinctively, then reconsidered it. A hard impact with the ground might sober him up a little. Not to mention add to the lesson he’d get next morning.
But the middle of a military camp was never free of watching eyes, and Julius didn’t want to imagine what the men would say if they saw Julius drop his lead general. Besides, having Brutus plastered against him, limp and boneless…
Well, it couldn’t be called a bad thing.
With a struggle, Julius got Brutus’s arm over his shoulder, using it to drag the other man along. After a few steps, he realised he wasn’t entirely sure where Brutus’s tent was. His own tent, then.
By the time they’d reached it Brutus had sobered slightly. Not enough that he’d remember anything he said, but at least sober enough that he could say it.
And say it he did, breath hot and wet against Julius’s cheek. “I love you.”
Familiar words, from the old days, before Spain. The thought made Julius frown. Had it really been so long since he’d heard that phrase from Brutus? He could remember saying it to the other man…
Oh, yes. He could remember the last time he’d said it to Brutus. Brutus had walked in on his mother having sex with Julius. In hindsight, Julius should have locked the door.
He dragged Brutus inside, ignoring the amusement of the guard posted outside. The first room of the tent was still a mess from the afternoon meeting; Julius pulled Brutus through it, into the inner room, where they couldn’t be overheard. Julius didn’t want any drunken words becoming camp gossip.
“I love you,” Brutus repeated as Julius finally dropped him, onto the bedding. “More than anything. Anyone else.”
Julius patted his side, wondering if he should call a slave to undress Brutus or just do it himself. “I love you too.”
“More than my mother?” Brutus demanded, struggling and failing to sit up. He didn't seem completely aware of where he was, and Julius hoped he hadn’t been saying this in other company.
Deciding not to call a slave, he bent to unlace Brutus’s boots himself. Despite the cold, the other man wore no cloak or gloves. Julius had heard he’d given them away to men on watch. Typical, if he had. No awareness that as a general, he was more valuable than common soldiers. No common sense.
“You love m’mother more,” Brutus slurred. He sounded sleepy, and Julius thanked the gods. He knew his temper wouldn’t take many more questions like that.
“I love both of you,” he said, and then added something he’d never dare if Brutus was less drunk: “You’re so alike. Both so strong and proud.” Brutus let his pride fuel his temper, but in Servilia that had mellowed. Julius wondered if it would in Brutus, too. And how old he’d be by then. Too old for long marches across the Alps, no doubt.
Brutus didn’t reply, and Julius wondered if he was asleep. But when he dropped the second boot onto the floor and leaned up to check, Brutus grabbed him with surprising strength, dragging him down. He watched Julius closely. “Does she do this?”
How he’d gotten his hand there, Julius didn’t know, but he felt Brutus’s fingers slip across the top of his thigh and close around his cock. He felt his eyes widen, and reached out to brace himself against the bed. “What are you doing?”
Brutus smirked, and Julius suddenly wondered how drunk Brutus really was. “Has it been so long you’ve forgotten?”
It was like in the old days, when Brutus would still challenge Julius, still look at him with that mixture of fierce pride and fiercer love, before the gap between them had grown too wide. Julius felt himself respond, hips jerking into Brutus’s grasp. Brutus tightened his fingers in response, creating a warm sheath for Julius to thrust into.
Julius’s arms trembled, and he stopped holding himself up, letting his body drop onto Brutus. This was what he had missed, he realised: someone that could take his strength and weight, and give more back in return. Where he would have crushed Servilia, Brutus just pressed up, grinding against Julius.
Julius kissed him, hard and deep, almost using more teeth than tongue. Brutus let his legs fall open in response, letting Julius settle between them. Julius just hardened the kiss, grinding down. He must have hurt Brutus’s wrist, but the other man didn’t complain, keeping his hand squeezed tight around Julius’s cock.
It didn’t take long. Julius felt his body stiffened, shudders running though his legs. He fought back the cry, burying his face in Brutus’s neck as he came.
Brutus withdrew his hand, before worming it back between their bodies, still sticky and wet. Julius shifted to give him better access as Brutus slipped his hand under his own clothes, hand moving against Julius’s stomach as he jerked himself off.
Julius waited until Brutus was finished before rolling off, and going to fetch a wet cloth. Brutus just lay still, until Julius threw him the cloth; he wiped himself without looking, dropping it on the floor.
Julius stared at him, remembering why he’d been outside in the first place. Someone needed to check the men on watch paid attention, and tonight was Brutus’s night off…
“I need to go,” he said, not bothering to check if Brutus was awake behind closed eyelids. “Check on the watches. You should sleep it off.”
There was no response from the body on the bed. Julius hesitated a moment longer, before turning and walking out. The guard offered him a commiserating grin – drunk friends, eh? – which Julius didn’t return.
He needed to check the watches. And maybe he could get Brutus his cloak back. The other man would freeze if the weather got much worse, and he’d never accept the gift of a new one.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-07-18 03:55 am (UTC)And I like this a lot:
This was what he had missed, he realised: someone that could take his strength and weight, and give more back in return.
That's a realistic and actually quite hot statement.
Well done.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-07-18 09:01 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-07-18 03:50 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-07-19 07:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-25 11:16 pm (UTC)