Another installment of The City War, comin’ atcha! This is part three of six, posting a complete (SEXY) scene from the novella.
You can find previous parts here.
There was a fresco on the wall of his bedroom, a painting of Venus Verticordia, the changer of hearts, the punisher of the disobedient and unfaithful—Porcia’s idea of a joke, most likely. At any rate, from the bed, only the curves of her hips and the smooth lines of her arms could be seen. He undressed and lay down, turning away from the fresco, studying the geometric patterns on the other wall.
The door to the cubiculum opened silently, a moving shadow in the shadows. Brutus watched as Cassius stepped inside, leaning one shoulder on the edge of the doorway.
“All quiet?” Brutus asked.
“This making me play at host is a little tiresome,” Cassius replied.
“I thought you were enjoying it.”
“It’s not far from making me play at wife,” Cassius complained, and Brutus sat up and slid to the edge of the bed, grinning.
“And you don’t enjoy that?” he asked as Cassius shut the door and came forward, twining his arms around Brutus’s shoulders. “Serving me? Just a little?”
“Not in public,” he said in his ear, easing his thighs down around Brutus’s, settling their hips together. It rucked up his tunic and Brutus pushed it up further, hands exploring at leisure, pulling away the cloth he wore underneath, tracing skin and muscle they already knew well. There was the scar on Cassius’s belly where he’d nearly died during an early campaign, and there was the long straight line down his thigh where one of Caesar’s men had nicked him during the civil war. On his shoulder, as Brutus pulled the fabric to one side, were two more scars from foreign archers, and on his back, just to the left of his spine, a knot where a horse had kicked him.
Brutus kissed the join of Cassius’s throat and shoulder. Cassius let his head fall back, body supported by the hand Brutus held between his shoulder blades. Brutus eased his arm around a little, pulling at the long tunic, and Cassius ducked out of it, curling in close again. He rolled his hips, a low hmm rumbling in his throat, and Brutus twisted to ease him onto the bed. Cassius slitted his eyes and smiled, seductive, affectionate.