Things are heating up in this installment of a full scene from The City War, my new novella from Riptide Press!
It was better, he thought, when they were face to face. He might have less leverage that way but he could feel the warm press of Cassius’s cock against his stomach, the hot wet rush when he came, the scratch of fingernails along his shoulders. But sometimes this was good too, with Cassius warm and sleepy, willing, his slight movements all Brutus needed as he thrust between his thighs, feeling the head of his erection brush up against the soft skin of Cassius’s balls. Small wonder the Greeks loved this; there was no feeling quite like it in the world. He spread kisses over Cassius’s shoulders, and Cassius reached out to cover his hands where they were braced on the bed, fingers caressing his knuckles.
He felt the low, tight curl of his orgasm building, the urgency of his thrusts grow more frantic. He bit down on Cassius’s shoulder, and when Cassius twisted a little and said, “Marcus,” he pulled back and pressed his cock to the swell of Cassius’s ass, coming all over his back. Cassius chuckled and stretched while Brutus panted through his release.
“Ten stripes for insubordination,” Cassius said, shameless, amused.
“Every time you make that joke and every time it’s still not funny,” Brutus chided, smacking him gently on the curve of one buttock. Cassius tightened the muscles there, propping himself up on his elbows and looking over his shoulder.
“I took a napkin from the table.” Cassius nodded at his tunic and belt lying on the floor. “Do us both a favor and make me presentable.”
“Nothing in the world could make you presentable,” Brutus replied, but he climbed off the bed and found the scrap of linen, wiping him down, a little reluctant to clear away the evidence of what they’d done. Well, he supposed the bluish bruise where he’d bitten him high on the shoulder would suffice.
Cassius saw him staring and touched it with a smile. “We’re not fooling anyone,” he said, turning onto his back as Brutus slid into the blankets. Cassius rolled and curled up around him, legs twined with his, one arm on his chest, looking down into his face.
“Perhaps not fooling, but at least not flaunting. We’re senators and patricians, Cassius. Powerful men.”
“Mmm, so you are.”
Cassius twisted his smile a little. “Well, perhaps.”
“Junia and Porcia don’t care, anyway, and Aristus wouldn’t smear my reputation.” Brutus traced the backs of his fingers down Cassius’s cheek.
“But we have to be discreet.”
“We are discreet. We’re here instead of at home in the city, aren’t we?”
“The servants, though.”
“You say this every time, and nothing ever comes of it. They’re servants, who would listen? Fuck them,” Brutus said, a little more vehemently than he’d intended.
“I wonder if you’d like to.”
Brutus turned to regard him more fully, a question on his face.