signs
a/n: you can all blame ovulation for this one lol (as well as all the asks for Acacius- thank you btw) I've taken a couple of the asks and threaded the themes throughout in my own way, hope you all enjoy and as always please feel free to spam me with thoughts and thots. (slipping this chapter in before their dynamic has changed) not beta’d and barely proofread 💕
Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus being very observant, implied creampies, ovulation horny has entered the chat, dual pop, Marcus being a little bit of a Dom as well as a sub / begging, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!
Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader
word count: 2.4k
reblogs are appreciated
Masterlist series masterlist
The tea made the blood elusive. It was the price you paid for not being with child, and it was a price you were happy to pay. Sometimes however, the signs were there in the days and weeks before. A general melancholy, emotional responses to paltry little things that bore no meaning most of the time. A simple misstep could bring you to tears, or ignite the fire of rage within. There was no telling how it would go.
There was another sign, one that was harder to hide, and that was desire.
It is like a flowing river, a lightning strike throughout your limbs, charging everything like a summer storm. A craving, an ache, a want so strong it made you forget yourself.
Your Dominus made the ache unbearable, especially when he was consumed with his duties. The breadth of his shoulders, the strength in his arms, the sheer size of him was enough to make your mouth water on the best of days. Now, with the want intensifying, it was difficult to focus on your tasks.
“Girl, are you well?” He frowns, a mask of confusion on his gorgeous face.
“Dominus?” You respond, a frown of your own staring back.
“You have spilled the water, and I have seen you fold the same linen sheet thrice now.” He puts his quill down, leans back and crosses his arms, your insides light up at the picture of him in his chair.
“I beg your forgiveness, Dominus. I know not where my head is this day.” You bow your head in embarrassment.
“Is anything a miss?” The concern in his voice is another taunt, a bonedeep need to be taken, to be kissed and fucked. It wasn’t just that though, there was something else that reared its head with that concern, a need to be taken care of.
“No Dominus, I am well I assure you.” You bite your lip, focus on his face and not his hands, or his arms, or the dip in his throat. He’s quiet for a few seconds, holding your gaze with his eyes, there’s a scrutiny in it that feels like he can read every single filthy thought floating in your mind. You give him a tight smile, and rush to clean up the mess you made.
Your movements are nervous, shaky, quick so as to get away from him before you make a fool of yourself, or worse, anger or dishonour him.
“If there is nothing else, Dominus.” You bow your head, moving backwards towards his door. He nods slightly, and then you’re free.
-
You cannot help but avoid him throughout the day, a necessary protection, a distraction from all of the ways you need him. It’s not as though he would not indulge you, but you are well aware of how busy he is with the whisperings everyone in Rome has heard, the talks of war and battles and things you know he must tend to as the General. It’s better if you do not pull him away from his work.
Hours pass in a hazy fog of lust, but you continue on in your duties, because there is no other choice. The thought of that is calming. There is security and comfort within your place, within your routines and station. It is as solid as the foundations of this very house. Once night has come, and he is safely tucked within his rooms and getting the rest you know he so desperately needs, you can tend to yourself within the quiet of your rooms.
You sigh to imagine it, the bath you will treat yourself to in the open air before slipping into your bed and tending to the wet, swollen ache between your legs. The thought of that relief, of the freedom to keep going until exhaustion takes you under makes you sigh into your dinner. With a secret smile, and a desperation that makes you feel almost feral, you rush through clearing your mess away and rush to help him get ready for sleep.
He notices your reluctance to touch him, but says nothing. Instead he stays quiet, observes, while you do your best to smile and keep your heart under control. A brush of his hand at your waist while you help him undress almost makes you crack, it causes an unconscious move to press yourself closer for only a moment before you remember yourself. With shaky hands, you oil his hair and his whiskers, most definitely avoiding his heated stare. He has made no advance, has given you no indication that he desires you in the way you hopelessly desire him. And so you tidy up, you blow out his candles, wish him a good night and slip out the door.
-
The air outside is warm, the moon is bright, and the water is perfect. A fragrant steam surrounds you, the heat of the water calms the muscles that have been tense all day. With everyone safely tucked away, with your Dominus asleep you are free to indulge until the water grows cold. There is time enough for that though, and you sink further into the outdoor bathtub. With a deep, contented sigh, you begin to cleanse yourself. Your legs first, long, smooth strokes across your skin. Sand and grit, the sweat of the day all melts away. The urge to slip your hands between your legs is great enough to make them tremble but you resist, tease yourself, linger on the swell of your breasts, on the tips of them, peaked and so sensitive you let out a moan. The ache between your legs is so strong, you know it’ll be devastatingly quick, so you continue teasing, enjoying the water lapping at your skin with every little movement.
A fantasy forms, small as a seed at first. Your Dominus, naked, smiling and completely enraptured by you. You see him in your mind, beckoning you forth to him, commanding you–no–begging you to sit on his cock. In this fantasy you laugh, you taunt him, a tiny little tease to his leaking head. You are powerful and so desired he begs without care of his reputation, without care of your stations in this life. It makes you giggle to yourself in the water like a madwoman.
“Would you share the jest, Girl?” His voice scares you almost half to death. Your heart races within your chest, and it’s not out of desire.
“Dominus, apologies–” You move to rise quickly but he raises his arms in protest, leaving you half in, half out of the tub.
“There is no need for apologies, or for you to stop on account of me.” He moves closer in all his glory. “I only wish for you to tell me what consumed your thoughts just now, what made you laugh?” He sits on the bench, facing you. You sink a little, biting your lip in embarrassment.
“I–I am ashamed at my thoughts, Dominus.” You cover your face with your hands for a moment, hoping he will let it go but he doesn’t.
“Were your thoughts evil?” His eyebrow raises and you gasp.
“No Dominus! No, not evil, just…”
“Were you thinking about your desire? The heated stares you’ve been giving me all day?” He narrows his eyes, smiling at the way your eyes widen in shock. “Do you think me blind, Girl? Do you think I cannot tell that you have been wanting all day? I am well aware, what I cannot seem to understand is why you would not simply ask me, why you would not open that pretty mouth and tell me what it is you want.” He tilts his head in confusion, a deep need to understand.
“I did not wish to interrupt you Dominus, I know well that you have many important matters which take up your time.”
“And you thought that I would find your desire a waste of my time.” It's not a question, more of a statement. His tone is hard to decipher.
“I know my place, Dominus.” You bow your head, and he whispers something to himself, something you don’t catch. “Is there something you require of me? Shall I fetch you something?”
“I require you to continue with your bath.” He settles, makes himself comfortable. “I require you to tell me what you thought of before I so rudely interrupted you.”
The obedience is so deeply rooted, the thought of lying seems like madness.
“I–I was thinking of you, Dominus.” You avert your eyes, take a deep breath and continue. “I thought about teasing you, until you begged me to take you inside me.” Your face heats, your tongue feels thick in your mouth.
“Is that what quickens your blood? The thought of me begging?” His hand moves, settles on his growing manhood. You nod. “Show me, show me what you would have done had I not come.” He gives himself a squeeze, hisses at the feeling of it.
Your hands obey despite the way you tremble. A soft caress at your chest makes you moan, slowly, he moves closer, until he leans against the edge of the tub. Your hands move down towards where you ache.
“Show me. Spread it open and show me what you want me to beg for.” He stares at the place between your legs, and again, you obey. “That’s it, Girl, let me see how you satisfy yourself without me.”
It feels so good, so intense with his gaze upon your body, that you fall apart almost instantly. He tuts at you.
“Already? A couple of light touches and you flutter? Are you so needy, Girl?” You nod, God’s be damned, your blood is too full of fire to worry about your place, to worry about anything except convincing him that you deserve his gift.
“Get out of the water.” He stands, offering his hand and you rush to take it. Once out, that hand wraps around your neck, pulls you in and he kisses you with a ferocity that makes you gasp. “How would you like me to beg?” He holds you away from him, hand clasped around your neck. You swallow thickly, dripping onto the mosaic under your feet.
“Dominus, I do not need you to beg, I only want you.” You push forward but he holds you in place.
“How do you want me to beg, Girl, I will not ask again.” His other hand lands on your hip, slides around to grab at your backside. The world spins, your limbs feel light as though you are drunk on wine, but it’s him you’re drunk on. Him and the illusion he gives you of control.
“I would have you naked, Dominus, and sitting on the bench.” He nods, a small smile before he lets go of you. You sway on the spot, weak as reeds without his touch. He undresses, sits before you just as you instructed, hard and better than any fantasy you could imagine.
“I would have you beg me to sit on your cock, Dominus.” You speak with more confidence than you feel, and he smiles big now, wrapping that same hand that had just been about your throat around his cock.
“Please, my needy, beautiful Girl, I beg of you to sit on this cock.” He squeezes the tip with a groan. Just like in your fantasy, you walk towards him, an extra swing in your hips.
“I confess, being begged for this–” You cup your sex, pulsing between your legs, “it feels good. It feels even better to pretend that I am powerful.” You bite your lip, place your hands on his shoulders as you stand between his spread thighs.
“Do you not think yourself powerful?” You both frown, mirror images of one another.
“Is this part of the game, Dominus?” his waves call for your fingers, and you oblige.
“No, Girl, I think you are unaware of the power you hold over me.” He muses to himself before he takes your nipple into his mouth and distracts you from his meaning. “Please Girl, I beg of you to let me in.”
There is no more waiting, the teasing you’d imagined feels like torture and you give in, straddle his lap and guide the weeping head of him inside you.
“Does not take much, hmm?” He smiles, wrapping those strong arms around you in just the way you’ve been dreaming of all day.
“I am too eager, I want you too much, Dominus. I am almost there.” You moan the words, uncaring of how pathetic, how aroused you are. He wastes no time, using that blessed strength to help you bounce and ride him. You fall apart so quickly he lets out a laugh that sounds like a hiss.
“Already Girl? A couple of strokes and that sweet little cunt melts for me? Shall I take you to bed? Fuck you hard enough that you feel me for days?” He squeezes at you, thumb slipping between your legs to draw out the pleasure. You cannot speak, all you can do is pant, dig your nails into his shoulders, kiss him obscenely.
You aren’t sure how you make it into his rooms but it matters not. What matters is he continues begging, even while inside you, even as you fall apart again and again. He begs to give you his gift, and you accept with a smile, until that blessed exhaustion finally takes you.
-
Marcus cannot help but stare at her. The candle would be out soon, and the thought angers him. If he moves, he risks waking her, but if he doesn’t then the sight before him will dim. It is an impossible situation, ultimately however he chooses her comfort over his eyes.
He sighs, inching as close as he can to her and he is rewarded when she shifts, seeking him out in her sleep. Her breath skates across his chest, just as warm as her hand and visions fill his mind. He sees her smiling, he sees her in his arms, he sees her as his equal. He shakes his head. It’s a dangerous journey for his mind to go on but he cannot seem–or want–to stop. He smiles to himself at the imagined look on her face as they eat together or walking through the busy streets with her on his arm.
He knows he should stop, he knows he should wake her and send her back to her chambers but he cannot bring himself to. Her warmth, her deep breaths, her comfort in his arms gives him pause. It stalls his hand and so he waits, he watches her, revels in her nakedness and the softness of her skin.
He’s still staring at her when the candle burns out.
-
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