Being pregnant with his heir has made Geta more in love with you than he ever could have imagined. He shows you just how much he loves you.
Part 1
Warnings:
Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, fingering, creampie, pregnancy
Word Count: 1.9k
A/N:
I wasn’t sure if I was going to write for Geta again, but he is actually living in my brain rent free. Another one inspired by my character letters by @miss-bushido, check out her writing and Etsy shop! I did research for this one, but I apologize in advance for historical inaccuracies! This is a part 2 to an heir for an emperor!
—
“I think it’s going to be a boy,” Geta mused, hand roaming over the growing expanse of your stomach. “A strong boy. The future of Rome is in your belly, you know that, Carissima?”
“And what if it’s a girl?” you asked, a giggle on your lips bringing a smile to the Emperor’s own.
“Then she shall take after her mother and be the most beautiful in all of Rome,” he said, hand caressing the skin of your belly. “And I’ll have to give you another.”
“Geta!” You playfully scolded, hand swatting at his as he laughed. “Another so soon?”
“Of course, my love. I need an heir. And to see you, swollen with child again so soon…” he leaned forward, pressing kisses to your neck. “Would be a gift. The gods have truly blessed me.”
You hummed, melting into his touch. You were sprawled together on your huge bed, dressed in your bed clothes for the night. His body curled behind yours, hands roaming your body wherever he pleased. Up and over your breasts, pinching at your nipples before moving back to your stomach; then down between your legs, feeling for the wetness he knew would be waiting for him.
“My love…” he whispered seductively against your ear. “Is there something you want?”
You whined, pressing back against him. He knew what you wanted, and he wanted it too. You could feel him already hard against your backside as he dipped his fingers between your folds. He collected your slick on his fingers and brought them to his lips, sucking them clean, tasting your essence. “Divine,” he remarked. “Somehow, you taste even sweeter.”
He lifted your tunic over your body, baring you to the night and his eyes alone. His hands trailed over your soft skin, so beautiful and flawless in his eyes. Perfection sent to him from the gods themselves.
Geta undid his own robe, revealing his glorious body fully naked, cock hard and standing proud as he gazed down at you. “You are so beautiful, Carissima.” His tongue darted out to lick his lips as he drank in your beauty. “Will you sing for me tonight?”
You giggled, knowing he didn’t exactly mean a ballad. “Perhaps if I feel inspired, my Emperor…”
A wicked smile crossed his face as he leaned over you, kissing up your body until he reached your lips. “Oh, how beautiful a melody I could pull from those lips…let me show you.”
He gently moved you onto your side, careful of your stomach. Geta had treated you like you were made of glass since he discovered your pregnancy. He had been overjoyed, but if you thought he was overprotective before, he became a whole different beast with his beloved wife carrying his potential heir.
He consulted the augurs at the beginning of your pregnancy. Since then he has prayed daily to the goddesses of childbirth; Eileithyia, Hera, Juno. He has left them daily offerings at their temples and shrines to ensure the safe delivery of your child.
You always had an entourage with you with your servant staff, but now you had a guard of Praetorians following your every move, as well. Even servants to taste your food before you could eat. Speaking of your food, Geta suddenly insisted on you receiving the healthiest, finest foods in the Empire. He still allowed you your fig cakes, at least.
The only time you got any peace, any time alone, were these cherished nights in bed with your Emperor. When he dropped his cruel and ruthless persona and became your husband. He would take care of you, massage your belly with oils each night. It was your favorite part of the day.
Once you were comfortably laid on your side, Geta moved back behind you, his body spooning against yours. He brushed your hair back over your shoulder, placing kisses against the skin of your back. “Do you remember our wedding night?”
“How could I forget?” You smiled, the memory rushing back to you. It had been less than a year, but felt like a lifetime.
It had been a beautiful ceremony. Everything you could have dreamed of. Your father had been proud to marry his daughter to an Emperor. The augurs had been consulted by Geta himself to ensure propitious omens and favor from the gods. You wore your beautiful white tunica recta, a gorgeous veil atop your head. There had been a delicious cake, as he had heard of your sweet tooth beforehand.
Afterwards, Geta took you to the bridal lectus, where he took you apart piece by piece until you were nothing but writhing pleasure beneath him.
Geta hummed against your back. “Do you remember how I surprised you in your chambers before the ceremony?”
You blushed. Of course you did. It had been such a surprise to find Geta waiting for you in your chambers, you weren’t even supposed to see him before the ceremony. You had been scared at first, you still hardly knew one another and you had heard plenty of stories, but his plans for you had been more than pleasing.
“I simply had to have a taste of my bride to be,” he continued. “It was all I could think about once I saw you for the first time. It plagued me those three months of our betrothal leading up until our ceremony. It was all I could think of when I was alone. Even just touching your hand to place the ring on your finger…” You felt Geta shiver behind you. “Carissima, I was yours, body and soul.”
He reached down to grasp onto your thigh, lifting it up and over his own leg between yours. You felt his thick tip prodding at your entrance, and you sighed, already so responsive for him.
“You’ve been so sensitive since you have been carrying our child,” he remarked as his fingertips traced slowly over your clit, before dipping down to press inside of you. You gasped loudly - you could feel his smirk against your skin. “I absolutely love it.”
You moaned as he pumped his fingers into you a few more times, but you were so wet you really didn’t need any preparation. He removed his fingers, sucking them clean with a groan, before pressing his tip against your pussy once again.
He didn’t ask before he started sinking inside - the Emperor did not ask for permission. But he knew you would have given it over and over again had he asked. Your head fell back against him as he filled you from behind, holding your leg up high to allow him enough room to get as deeply inside as he liked to be.
He bottomed out quickly and began thrusting in and out of your perfect tight heat, groaning deeply against your neck. His fingertips dug into your thigh as he fucked you like you needed to be fucked. He knew your body better than anyone, even yourself.
“Carissima,” he moaned; a weakness in his voice he would never let anyone else witness. It was raspy, desperate for more of the perfect fit of your pussy. He called your name over and over again in your ear, the title never sounding more sinful than it did in that moment.
“You feel so good,” you whined, your hips bucking back to meet his thrusts, to have him fuck you harder. He didn’t like to take you roughly with you in your current state, not like he used to. You missed it desperately. “Please, my Emperor, take me harder.”
Geta groaned loudly at your words, his composure faltering as his sloppy thrusts stuttered. “My beloved,” he said, his raspy voice pained. “Do not say things such as that. You do not know how hard it is to keep my control.”
“Please,” you begged again, back arching as you felt your release beginning to build. “Please, Geta, please fuck me.”
His grip tightened on your thigh and he groaned again, like you were causing him physical pain. He thought to deny you once again, but his primal instincts took over and he began fucking into you fast and hard. The sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room, and you were certain between that and the moans you were both emitting, the entire palace could hear your lovemaking.
“Close,” you whined out, eyes falling closed as your orgasm built faster and faster. You could feel your pussy beginning to clench around his cock, and he felt it too, his hips stuttering again as he neared his own imminent release.
“Sing for me,” he encouraged you, laying your thigh on his leg so he could move his hand between your legs. You cried out loudly as he paid delicious attention to your aching clit, and your orgasm hit you, pussy spasming hard around your Emperor’s thick cock.
“That’s it, Carissima, let all of Rome hear how you sing for me!”
Geta gripped back onto your thigh, fucking into you fast and hard with no rhythm until he finally stilled pressed against you, shooting rope after rope of his seed deep inside you as he let out the most divine moans you’d ever heard.
He rode out both of your releases, shallow thrusts until all of his cum had been spent inside of you. He pulled out, laying on his back next to you as his chest heaved with his breaths. He opened an arm for you, and you laid against him.
These moments of bliss were your absolute favorite. These moments of quiet and peace and love between you and your husband. It was rare for an Emperor to find a true love like this. Rare for a woman to be so lucky in her marriage. You reminded yourself of your fortune often.
You reached up, playing with a lock of his ginger hair. He smiled down at you lovingly, the look on his face one of pure adoration. The truth of it was seen in his eyes, to his very soul.
“The child will be here soon,” Geta said, his hand once again splayed on your large belly. “I have arranged for celebratory games to be held for the next two weeks. I want all of Rome to join in our celebrating the forthcoming birth of our heir.”
You turned to him. “Geta, I’m not sure I should-“
“Shh, my love,” he hushed you. “You do not have to attend, anaticula. I know you do not care for them. And I would rather keep you both safe from harm.”
You smiled gently at your husband. Somehow, he continued to surprise you with how much he loved and cared for you, and now the child in your belly, too. You knew no matter if it was a boy or a girl, Geta would be the perfect father, would love this child fiercely. He would not let harm come to either of you.
“He needs a strong name,” he thought to himself. “Lucius. Septimius. But perhaps we should meet him first? See what kind of personality he will have?”
“We do not yet know if it will be a he,” you teased him, your hand resting on your belly next to his. You felt a small kick beneath your hand and quickly grabbed Geta’s, moving it to that exact spot. After a moment of waiting, a grin spread across the Emperor’s face, pure jubilation evident in his eyes.
“Boy or girl, they’re nice and strong,” he said, a note of pride in his voice. “I love you, Carissima.”
You smiled, eyes fluttering closed. “I love you, my beloved.”
Geta rubbed your belly gently, soothing your nausea and pains as you relaxed into him in your large, plush bed. As you began to drift off to sleep in the arms of your Emperor, you heard his quiet voice one last time in your ear.
“Nunc scio quid sit amor. Now I know what love is.”
🏛 you, a highborn lady of rome, are betrothed to caracalla. this greatly upsets his brother geta, who has found himself fallen in love with you.
WARNING(S) + OTHER INFO: au gladiator 2, unprotected sex, somewhat rough sex, geta being very obsessive / possessive.
geta had learned the art of stillness early in life. in the marble halls of his father’s house, stillness was survival.
tonight it feels like rot.
he stands at the edge of the peristyle garden, hands clasped behind his back, staring at the darkened fountain where moonlight breaks itself into fragments upon the water’s surface. somewhere inside, voices carry — measured, satisfied, final. his mother has spoken. the future has been decided with the same careless precision used to choose a new mosaic or a favored horse.
you.
your name sits in his chest like a blade twisted sideways.
he had known before the words were spoken, had felt it in the way his mother would not meet his eyes, in the way his brother’s mouth curved — not quite a smile, and not quite surprise. ownership, perhaps. or triumph. geta has tasted that same bitterness often enough to recognize it.
still, when the sentence came — she will be wed to caracalla — it had struck with the dull finality of a death knell.
and geta had left before anyone could look too closely at him.
now, alone, he allows himself what rome never seems able to give him : a moment’s respite.
you had not been careless with one another. that was the cruelest part. you had never been a dalliance, never just a warm body hidden behind silk and shadows. you had been chosen. by him. by his heart, against his better judgment, against the empire itself. in quieter moments — your head against his shoulder, your fingers tracing idle patterns at his wrist — he had let himself imagine a life that did not feel like a battlefield.
betrothal. legitimacy. a future that was yours.
instead, rome has reached in and torn the thread clean through.
geta closes his eyes, and memory betrays him instantly : the warmth of your skin, the soft certainty with which you always say his name, as though it belongs to you alone. as though it will always be safe in your mouth.
now you, and every beautiful thing that comes with you, will be given to his brother.
caracalla — who takes and breaks and burns everything he touches. who will never see you as geta does. who will never kneel to listen when you speak, never soften his voice for you alone.
the thought makes that same knife twist beneath geta’s ribs.
he turns at the sound of approaching footsteps, already knowing who it will be. he had felt your presence long before he saw you — like a change in the air, like a wound reopening.
geta says your name quietly.
there is so much he cannot say. so much he should not. walls have ears. rome devours weakness.
but when his gaze meets yours, all that discipline fractures.
❝ i am sorry, ❞ he says instead — not for loving you, not for what you have shared, but for the impossible cruelty of it all. for the fact that in a mere fortnight, the world will begin calling you someone else’s.
and though he stands only a few paces away, he has never felt farther from you in his life.
you’ve stopped to make sure you are truly alone. company at this moment would spell disaster for you both.
and then you move.
geta’s apology cracks something open in you, and your body reacts faster than your brain — feet carrying you across the marble stepping stones, breath hitching, his name rising unbidden to your lips. for a heartbeat you forget everything except the simple truth of him standing there alone, waiting for you.
then you see his face.
you stop again, the distance between you suddenly vast.
he is still, as always, carved into a careful composure — but there are fractures in it tonight. his eyes, beneath that ghastly black makeup, are rimmed red, his jaw set too tightly, grief held with the discipline of someone long practiced in swallowing pain whole. and there is something else there too, something that makes your chest seize : fear, perhaps, or the expectation of blame.
you fold your hands together in front of you, fingers twisting.
for a terrible moment, you wonder if he thinks this is your doing. if he believes — even a little — that you should have spoken, refused, clawed fate back with your bare hands. you imagine his disappointment, the quiet withdrawal of his affection, and it hurts almost as much as the betrothal itself.
❝ i — ❞ you start, but you falter.
you notice wet tracks smudging the white smeared onto his face, that makeup he and caracalla are always wearing, the kind you cannot stand. geta is so handsome, you cannot fathom why he paints himself in such tawdry oils.
yet even now, even like this, he is devastating to you.
the realization settles heavily in your chest : nothing has changed where it matters most.
geta watches the hesitation play across your face, and something in him shifts. his shoulders loosen a fraction, as though he has been bracing for a blow that never came. slowly — carefully — he steps closer, closing some of the space but not all of it, as if afraid to frighten you away.
❝ you need not explain, ❞ he says quietly. ❝ i know. ❞
his hand lifts, then pauses in the air between you, fingers flexing once before settling — not on you, but against the stone balustrade beside your arm. close enough that you can feel the warmth of him, the nearness that has always undone you.
it is an almost-touch. a memory of one.
❝ i would never think you capable of betrayal, ❞ he continues, voice low, steady with effort. ❝ not of me. ❞
the unspoken words hang there : not of us.
for a moment, neither of you moves. the night presses in around you, heavy with jasmine and the distant murmur of rome, indifferent and eternal. you are acutely aware of the line that now exists — not yet marked by law, but already real — a future that no longer belongs to him.
still, he does not step back.
his fingers brush, barely, against the edge of your sleeve — a touch so light it could be mistaken for accident or nothing at all. it is reverent. hesitant. as though he is reminding himself of what this feels like, committing it to memory while he still may.
❝ i do not know how we are meant to stand now, ❞ geta admits softly. ❝ but i know i cannot pretend you are a stranger to me. ❞
his gaze drops, for only a moment, to your hands — close enough to take, yet held so carefully apart.
and in that fragile space between you, everything you were — and everything you are no longer allowed to be — trembles, unresolved.
you inhale, steadying yourself, and then you cross the remaining distance.
not rushing toward him, but not fleeing either.
you step close enough that the hem of your robe brushes his sandals, close enough that the warmth of him presses faintly against you, undeniable. geta stills completely, breath catching in a way he cannot hide, as though even this small defiance of the new order might undo him.
you lower your voice until it is meant only for him.
❝ tonight, ❞ you whisper.
his gaze, so impossibly dark, lifts to yours instantly.
❝ i will be in my quarters. ❞
the words tremble, but they do not falter. you are keenly aware of the garden around you — the open arches, the shadows that might conceal a servant, a guard, any other listening ear. the danger sharpens your resolve.
❝ he won’t come, ❞ you add, softer still. ❝ not yet. caracalla will follow the rules — he always does when they are lain by your mother. ❞
you hate that you know this. hate that it gives you certainty.
your fingers rise, hesitating, then rest lightly against geta’s wrist — you can feel his pulse jumping against his warm skin.
❝ if you wish . . . ❞ you murmur, ❝ come to me. ❞
your thumb brushes once against his skin, a ghost of the intimacy you have shared a hundred times before. then you draw your hand back, deliberately, leaving the choice where it must be.
❝ i will wait. ❞
geta does not answer at once.
the silence stretches, taut as a drawn bowstring. his jaw tightens, chest rising and falling as he weighs the risk — the treason of it, the danger of wanting something rome has already claimed. his gaze searches your face as if committing it to memory, as if deciding whether one last night will be mercy or ruin.
somewhere nearby, a laugh echoes. footsteps. proof that the world is very much awake, and that you are not alone.
you step back then, just enough to put distance between you again, just enough to protect you both.
❝ we should not linger, ❞ you say quietly, though every part of you rebels against the words.
you turn before he can answer, before courage or fear can change either of you, and begin to walk away through the colonnade — slow, unhurried, the picture of propriety.
yet even as you go, you know he is watching.
and he knows exactly where to find you, should he decide that one last act of defiance is worth whatever tomorrow may bring.
-
the night is long without him, the darkness pressing in close ; you feel as though you can’t think, cannot even breathe. the news of the day has drained you, and you think geta won’t come. how could he, possibly?
you’ve found yourself in a right mess with no way out. even if he did materialize at your door, what could he do for you? emperor he may be, but only one of two.
and betrothals in rome are writ in blood.
you are a fool for thinking he would want to spend even one more night with you . . .
there is a soft knock at the door.
your head has just hit the pillow when you quickly sit once more, scrambling out of the mounds of sheets and blankets to hurry to the door.
you crack it only an inch or two, and catch sight of the burnished red robe gilt all in gold that you are so familiar with. you once told geta seeing him in this robe made the pressure come quick and easy between your thighs; of course he would wear it tonight.
yanking him inside by that robe, you run your hands down his chest, fingers catching on the silken material.
❝ geta . . . ❞ you are at a loss for words, however, upset as you are.
you don’t have to wait long for what to say, as geta is pulling you close, insistent lips upon yours, his kisses filled with jealousy and pain and anger. he backs you up to the now closed door, body pressing hard against yours.
❝ mine, ❞ he hisses between love-bitten kisses. ❝ you are mine. not his. ❞
❝ i know, ❞ you sob into his mouth. you cling to him. ❝ help me, geta. help me fix this. ❞
geta breaks the kiss just long enough to take a great, rattling breath against your lips. his forehead meets yours, and his hands tremble as they cradle your face.
❝ i will fix this, ❞ he whispers, voice raw. ❝ i don’t care what rome wants. i don’t care about duty or blood or my brother . . . ❞
he pulls back to look properly at you, his eyes a fierce, golden fire in the dim light of the candles.
❝ we’ll leave tonight. flee to alexandria, greece . . . anywhere beyond their reach. ❞
a beat.
❝ . . . if you’ll have me. ❞
❝ do you mean it? ❞ you press against him, hopeful for the first time since the wedding announcement. ❝ but . . . geta. could we leave tomorrow? at first light? tonight i . . . i want you. it’s been so long. ❞
and if all goes to shit, you really don’t want a month ago to be the last time the two of you made love.
teasingly, you spread the lapels of his beautiful robe and touch his chest.
geta’s breath catches as you glide your hands along his chest. it’s been so long since last he held you . . . he craves your touch. ❝ we’ll leave tomorrow. i promise. ❞
one of his hands finds your hair, the other gripping your waist, pulling you even closer. his lips are at your neck, trailing burning kisses along the sensitive skin there.
❝ tonight, ❞ he manages hoarsely, ❝ tonight i want to remind you . . . who you belong to. ❞
❝ yes, ❞ you hiss, feeling yourself already slick between your thighs. ❝ yes, claim me, geta. i’m yours. ❞
at your words, that possessive fire burns bright in geta’s eyes. he urges you into the hard wood of the door once again, trapping you against it. he captures your lips, kissing you hungrily, tongue demanding entrance so it can touch yours. his hand in your hair tightens, drawing your head back to give him better access as he takes your mouth.
❝ mine, ❞ he murmurs again, into the kiss, hands roaming your body over your thin nightgown. they slide down, gripping your thighs and lifting, wanting to hoist you up to him.
❝ wait. ❞
the word leaves your mouth breathless but firm, cutting through the urgency that has gathered between you like heat.
geta stills instantly.
not in irritation. not in frustration. in obedience — the kind he gives only to you. his hands loosen in your hair, easing their grip, though his forehead remains pressed to yours, his breath still uneven against your lips.
❝ wait, ❞ you repeat more softly, lifting a hand between you, resting it against his chest where you feel his heart beating hard. ❝ please. ❞
for a moment, he looks at you as though you have struck him — nostrils flared, lips parted. want held in check by trust.
he nods once.
you take his hand, threading your fingers through his, and lead him deeper into your chambers — past the bed with its disheveled sheets, past the flickering lamps — to the marble wash basin tucked beneath an arched niche in the wall. you move with quiet purpose ; you are afraid that if you hesitate even once, the night will steal him away.
geta watches you the entire time.
when you reach the basin, you release his hand to pour water from the ewer, testing it with your fingers until steam claws at the air above. you take a linen cloth, dip it into the warmth, wring it out carefully.
only then do you turn back to him.
❝ sit, ❞ you murmur.
another flicker of surprise crosses his face — then he lowers himself onto the edge of the bench beside the basin, shoulders tense, hands braced on his knees like a man awaiting judgment. the candlelight catches the gold threaded through his robe, the dark paint wet around his eyes — grief made visible.
you step between his knees.
slowly. deliberately.
you lift the cloth, hesitating just a moment — giving him time to pull away, to protest — but he does neither. his gaze never leaves yours.
the cloth touches his cheek.
geta inhales sharply.
the warmth loosens the stiff lines of his composure almost at once. you wipe gently, careful around his eyes, where the makeup has mixed with tears he would never admit to shedding. black smears the linen. white fades beneath your touch, revealing the skin you know so well.
❝ there, ❞ you whisper, more to yourself than to him. ❝ you know i never liked this infernal makeup. ❞
a faint sound leaves him — not quite a laugh, not quite a breath. his eyes close as you continue, the careful ritual of it grounding both of you. you clean his other cheek, his jaw, the bridge of his nose. with each pass of the cloth, he seems to soften, the emperor peeling away until only the man remains.
when you reach his mouth, you pause.
your thumb lifts, brushing gently over his lower lip.
geta’s eyes open again — dark, intent, undone.
❝ you’re ruining me, ❞ he murmurs hoarsely.
you smile, small and sad. ❝ that makeup ruins you. now you look better. much more handsome. ❞
when his face is clean, you turn the cloth back to yourself, wiping gently at your own cheeks, your jaw, the places where his kisses left their mark — white smudges against your skin, proof of how quickly control had slipped away from both of you. he watches you with naked hunger now, but there is something else there too. relief. awe.
when you are finished, you set the cloth aside.
the silence between you is different now. quiet. heavy.
you lift his chin with two fingers, forcing him to look at you — really look.
❝ this, ❞ you tell him softly, ❝ is what i will remember. if tomorrow goes wrong. if they take everything from us. ❞
his hand comes up, trembling, to cradle your wrist.
❝ they will not, ❞ he says, fierce again — but tempered now by something steady. ❝ i swear it. ❞
you lean forward, resting your forehead against his. ❝ then prove it. show me how safe we are. ❞
geta stands suddenly, clearly desiring you in the position he tried for earlier. stooping, grabbing you about your thighs so he can lift you.
you gasp at the unexpected movement, arms and legs around him, the tip of his hard cock already pressing into your own wet arousal through your flimsy garments. ❝ geta. do you love me, my emperor? ❞
❝ i burn for you, ❞ geta growls, grinding against you so that the thick heat of him slides through your folds. his breath is ragged, voice trembling with devotion and fire. ❝ you are my heart, my breath, the only truth i’ve ever known. ❞
he captures your lips again — softer this time, aching — before pulling back to get a good look at you.
❝ say it again, amor meus. say you’re mine. ❞
❝ i am yours, geta. take me now. i cannot wait any longer. ❞ we mustn’t, you think, but do not say.
you rut down against him as best you can, caged as you are by his hold.
you can see geta’s restraint slipping with every movement of your body against his. he can barely stand it anymore. he has to have you now, has to remind you — and himself — that you belong to him. with a low growl, he turns, carrying you from the basin to the edge of your bed.
❝ so impatient. ❞ his voice is rough as he lays you down, crawling over you with a possessive gleam in his eyes.
you smile softly, laid out on the bed like a pretty plaything just for him. you reach, rubbing the soft material of his beautiful robe between your fingers. ❝ may i wear this? while you claim me? ❞
a low, possessive hum reverberates in geta’s throat as he watches your fingers toying with the golden edge of the robe. his gaze darkens, burning with desire, but also with something tender beneath it all.
❝ keep it, ❞ he murmurs, peeling it from his shoulders and draping it around you like a sacred offering. the gold-trimmed fabric pools around your body like firelight. ❝ wear it, so no matter where i am, you carry my scent, my mark — my claim. ❞
he leans in, pressing a searing kiss to your collarbone.
❝ and now . . . ❞ his hands slip greedily under the soft cotton of your nightclothes. ❝ i will remind every part of you who makes you tremble. ❞
you gather the robe around you, bringing the edges to your nose so you can smell him. the scent makes you lightheaded. ❝ geta. i want out of this infernal nightgown. i want to wear nothing but your robe as you fuck me. help me? ❞
geta lets out a ragged breath, full of need. ❝ such a demanding little bride. my brother could never handle you, ❞ he teases, eyes blazing as he pins you to the bed with his gaze. in one swift motion, he tugs the robe from your shoulders and then your nightgown up, baring you to him inch by inch.
then he stills . . . just to look. to worship what is truly his.
❝ you are so beautiful, ❞ he whispers, and his eyes drop lower, between your thighs. ❝ and so wet for me already . . . ❞
he leans down, knelt at the edge of your bed as he kisses a slow trail from your hip to your inner thigh before dragging the soft silk of the robe over your skin like an offering.
❝ lie back, ❞ he commands, ❝ and let me show you how an emperor claims what was always meant to be his. ❞
you feel hot all over, intensely in love with geta and the way he touches you. ❝ geta, my love, my emperor, my everything . . . ❞
you squirm in his robe, smelling him all over you, loving the silky feeling of the material against your skin.
you ultimately obey, however, laying back and looking down on him between your legs.
with you laid out before him — his robe covering your exquisite skin, you breathing his scent in so deeply — geta loses what little control he’s still holding onto. your obedience only stokes the possessive fire in him, makes him want to consume you entirely.
he stands once more and the tip of his hard cock brushes at your entrance, teasing, testing . . . but his eyes stay fixed firmly on your face. ❝ you are mine, my dear. ❞
his voice is a raw whisper, nothing but gravel and need. ❝ say it. i need to hear you say it again. ❞
❝ i’m yours. i belong to you and no one else. ❞ your hand finds itself in his hair, petting through his beautiful golden tresses.
his eyes flutter shut at your touch, his breath hitching as your fingers weave through his hair. for a moment, he looks absolutely and inherently reverent . . . wrecked by your touch and your words.
then, with a grunt, he leans forward — and claims your cunt and your mouth in one molten stroke. his hands grip your thighs, pulling you to him, needing more — every breathless moan, every twitch of your body beneath him.
❝ you taste like mine, ❞ he growls against you — a dark promise — before his hips find the rhythm that makes your body arch up to meet him.
gripped in one of your hands is his robe, the other back in his hair, holding him close, kissing him hard. if you let go of him, rome might take him from you, as it has taken so much else.
geta groans into your mouth, desperate and rough. he needs this — needs you, your touch, your scent, your taste. it is all that keeps him going, keeps him grounded as the world tries to take it all away.
his hands are inside the robe, slipping between your skin and the silken material to hold you, arms tight around your body. he starts to pull, tugging you roughly down onto his cock until you have no choice but to steady yourself with one hand on his shoulder and one on the jumbled sheets.
this new position rips a cry from your throat, geta's large cock bullying its way into your warm, silken walls over and over again.
he grins, feral and wild. he loves the sounds you make, loves knowing that he is the only one making you cry out — the only one he wants you to think about, the only name he wants on your lips . . .
geta leans forward and changes your position once again. one hand now pins your wrists to the bed, the other is like a vice at your hip, his knuckles gone white as he presses you forcefully down into the bed, hips snapping voraciously against yours. the sounds are obscene, and neither of you is cognizant of how much noise you’re making, what that might mean for both of you.
❝ i want — ❞ he chokes, and you soothe him with a gentle hand down the valley of his spine.
❝ please, geta. inside. ❞
❝ oh, my love . . . ❞ geta sighs, his eyes darkening again. his breathing has grown harsh, his fingers twitching against your sex-warmed skin. your soft pleading clearly does something to him, makes him feel feverish and very much in control of you.
his hand on your hip is hard, mouth hungry. he presses his lips to yours over and over again in fierce, open-mouthed kisses that brook no argument.
❝ you need me to claim you that badly? beg for it. ❞
you don’t have to be told twice ; you would obey your emperor even if he ordered you to set fire to the palace and everyone in it. ❝ please. pleasepleaseplease finish inside me, geta. i need it. need to know i still belong to you and only you. ❞
❝ gods. ❞ geta snaps, hips stilling as they press snugly to yours, fingers digging bruises into your hips as his body anchors itself in yours.
you can feel his cock twitching inside of you, spraying everything he has to give.
and you take it greedily, coming undone quickly after him, muscles contracting and milking him even as he collapses atop you, both of you sweaty and spent with geta’s head pillowed at your breasts.
his heart thuds against your chest, lips finding the hollow just beneath your clavicle with a reverent tenderness. slowly, his breathing returns to normal.
for a few moments, you simply lie there, the silence broken only by the soft rustle of fabric and your own still-frantic panting.
finally, geta lifts his head, gaze finding yours.
that fire is still in his eyes, just smoldering now, a hand possessively at your back, a gentleness to the touch, vulnerability yawning between the two of you.
❝ you . . . ❞ he starts, has to swallow thickly and start over. ❝ you’re alright? ❞
❝ i am always alright with you, geta. you could never hurt me. ❞ your thighs are sore, surely, from the pounding he's given you. but he doesn't need to know that.
geta presses a kiss to your hair and draws the robe more securely around you both, as though fabric alone could hold the world at bay. for a long while, neither of you speaks. the candles gutter low. somewhere beyond the walls, rome breathes and waits.
❝ rest, ❞ he murmurs at last, thumb tracing slow, grounding circles against your back. ❝ we leave at first light. ❞
you nod, and geta maneuvers you so that you are on his chest instead, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart — proof that he is real, that this night was not a dream you will wake from alone. fear still coils beneath your ribs, but it no longer rules you. not when he is here. not when tomorrow has a shape, however dangerous.
when sleep finally claims you, it is gentle and comforting. and when dawn comes — pale and inevitable — you wake wrapped in gold and warmth, knowing that whatever the empire demands, geta will make sure you are safe.
Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), major breeding kink, porn no plot
Word Count: 1.6k
A/N:
This is inspired by a character letter I got that I can’t stop thinking about. If this is historically incorrect I’m so sorry, I’m just horny as hell for this man.
—
It had been three blissful months of marriage with Geta.
The ruthless emperor was something different when he was alone with you. A side of him no one else was privileged to see. He was soft, affectionate, eyes only for you.
He knew you didn’t care for the bloodshed of the games, but he loved having you accompany him all the same. He would distract you when things got to be too much, holding your hand and even turning his attention away from the spectacle to comfort you if you needed it.
He couldn’t show his soft side in public often, but his love and adoration for you was obvious.
You enjoyed the finer things in life. You loved to attend the theatre, the plays and displays of beautiful music. Music was your favorite thing, and you loved to sing. Your singing voice was of the angels, as Geta would say, and oh how he loved to make you sing.
One thing both you and Geta were looking forward to was producing an heir. You had always wanted a family. You had felt the call of motherhood since you were a child, dreaming of the day you would marry and bear children. You hadn’t even fathomed of being an Empress, however.
You came from a rich family, and always knew you would marry highly, but Geta had been unexpected. The second he laid eyes on you, he knew you were to be his. You had no choice in the matter, but you would have chosen him a million times over anyway.
He had planned a romantic weekend getaway for the two of you alone, in one of his villas outside of the city. Leaving Rome in the hands of his brother and the Senate wasn’t ideal, but he wanted the chance to spend time with his beloved without interruption.
“You look divine, Carissima,” Geta remarked in adoration, his hands roaming the fabric of your tunic, gaze hungry. He pulled the fabric higher, lifting it up and over your body. “You will provide me with the most perfect heir.”
Naked before him, your nipples peaked among the cool air on your body, Geta dipping his head to take one of your nipples in his mouth. He sucked on it, tongue running over the sensitive bud. You moaned, hand resting on the back of his head. He moved to the other, giving it equal attention.
He lay you gently down on the bed, before removing his own clothing and moving over top of you. His crown still sat atop his ginger locks, and he looked as regal as ever, bared to you and cock achingly hard, all for you.
“I never imagined I would have such a luminous beauty as my wife,” he hummed, lips trailing along the skin of your neck. “Never could I have imagined a beauty like yours existed. You are sent from the gods themselves.”
“As are you, my beloved,” you said, eyes falling closed at the feeling of your husband’s lips upon your body. “You are more than I ever could have hoped for.”
Geta smiled tenderly, before pressing his lips to yours. You kissed him back eagerly, hands sliding around his shoulders. His skin was warm beneath your palms, your innocent touch making him impossibly harder against your thigh. His tongue slid across your bottom lip, and you let him inside, tongues dancing together.
He rested his weight on one arm while the other roamed the soft skin of your side, making you shiver beneath his touch. “Magnificent,” he remarked purely to himself. “Beautiful.”
He pulled away from you, sitting on his knees as he spread your legs for his view. You took in the visage of your Emperor before you, looking regal as ever as he gazed down at your core like it was his next meal.
“Just a taste, Carissima, before I fill you,” he said, moving down between your legs. You gasped as you felt his tongue against your pussy, licking up to your clit, where he sucked gently, causing your back to arch off the bed.
“Geta-!”
He hummed in appreciation, a smirk felt against you as he continued to devour you, lapping up all your slick like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. You moaned loudly - no one would be able to hear you here, you were in Geta’s private villa far from the bustle of the city. It was the most uninhibited you had felt as you let the proof of how good your Emperor made you feel fill the air.
“That’s it, my love, sing for me,” Geta praised you, before dipping his tongue into your hole, driving you mad. You grabbed onto his hair as you felt your orgasm approaching, needing to hold onto something. Geta chuckled lowly as he grabbed onto your thighs, keeping your legs spread wide for him.
“I’m…I’m…”
“I know, darling, let go for me,” He said, moving back up to pay special attention to your clit once more. The harsh suck he left on the sensitive bud sent you over the edge, and you were cumming hard, grinding against his face as he moaned and eagerly licked up all you gave him.
When he rose from between your legs, his mouth and chin glistened with your wetness. He looked absolutely sinful. He wrapped his hand around his cock, rings glittering on his fingers. He pumped himself a few times as he looked down at your already-wrecked body.
“I’m going to fill you with my seed so deeply, my love. Over and over again until it takes, until I get to see your belly round and full with my heir.”
You wanted that more than anything, the idea making your heart race in your chest. You felt his tip prodding at your entrance, and he leaned over your body again as he pushed inside.
It had only been three months, so you were still getting used to the intrusion of him when you’d lay together like this. You squeezed your eyes shut, fingers digging into the strong muscle of his biceps.
“You can take it, my love. So good for me - gods, so tight and hot.” He began a slow pace, mindful of letting you adjust to the size of him. He groaned beautifully as he began thrusting into you, and you were struck with how lucky you were to see your Emperor like this, so open and vulnerable, face contorted in pleasure because of you.
“Are you ready for me to move faster?” he asked, voice strained from holding back his true desire. The Emperor pleaded with no one, but his eyes told a different story.
“Yes, please,” you breathed, now that the pain has faded you wanted, needed more. “Please, Geta, need you to fill me.”
Geta groaned loudly, hips stuttering against you as he picked up his pace. He was truly fucking you now, left hand gripping your hip to hold you where he wanted you as he pounded into you. “I will do just that, Carissima, fill you so deeply with my heir. I wish to see you, glowing and beautiful with child. I will hold games in your honor.”
He pressed his lips to yours once again, kissing you deeply, showing you just how much he loved you with his body. Between the feeling of his glorious cock pressing deeply inside of you, pressing against that perfect spot he reached every time.
“You are magnificent,” he moaned, regal head thrown back on his shoulders, muscles clenching as he fought off his release. “Divine. Miraculous. All mine.”
Your eyes rolled back in your head as you writhed beneath his movements, and he moved his free hand to caress the side of your face. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, my Emperor,” you said, returning all the affection in his gaze.
“Need to feel you cum for me, my love,” he said, hips picking up speed as his own release approached rapidly. He moved to grip your thigh around his waist, moving into you at a new angle that had you seeing stars.
You cried out as your second orgasm hit, and Geta smiled cockily, knowing he was the only one who could bring you such pleasure, the only one privileged to see you like this, falling apart on his cock for him.
“Oh gods, Geta, yes-!”
“That’s it, my love, let me hear you,” Geta rasped out, his own release hitting him seconds later. “Take me, my beloved, take all of my seed! Gods yes, let me fill you, take it all,” he rambled on as he shot ropes of his hot cum deep inside you, pushing in as deep as possible to not waste a drop.
He stayed buried inside you as you both caught your breath. His strong chest was heaving with his heavy breaths, and he tenderly combed his fingers through your hair, looking at you with such love it made your heart stutter in your chest.
When he pulled out, he looked between your legs, gathering up his release that had spilled out of you with his fingers and pressing it back inside. “Cannot afford to waste a drop, Carissima,” he told you with a smile.
You giggled, totally blissed out from the pleasure he had just provided you. He lay his naked body on the bed next to you, resting his hand on your stomach.
“I truly cannot wait to see you carrying my heir,” he mused quietly, fingers rubbing circles into the skin of your abdomen, as if he were picturing it. “Our child.”
“Neither can I,” you told him, a blissful smile on your face.
“I would do this over and over again, as many times as it takes.”
You laughed, snuggling against the side of your Emperor. “I know you would.” You hummed, fingers trailing over the taut skin of his muscular chest. “I love you.”
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The chambers were quiet, cool, dark. The torches flickered against the wall, providing little light. You were waiting anxiously - you were always anxious waiting on these nights. So many things could go wrong, disastrously so.
You tensed as you heard footsteps coming down the hall - the moment of truth. This was always the scariest part, the unknown, the potential for trouble. You wrung your hands together, fussing with the material of your tunic.
The footsteps neared. You could see the light from the torch they were carrying. Then, around the corner - you released a breath, a smile spreading across your lips at the sight of your love, your emperor.
He returned the smile, one that was rarely seen on his regal face. He stowed the torch on the wall and approached you quickly, arms wrapping around your waist in a tight embrace.
“My love,” he greeted you, his voice full of emotion. “I have missed you.”
“I think I’ve missed you more.” You were smiling so big your face hurt, your heart beating rapidly against his chest, a mix of fear and longing.
Geta leaned down with his tall frame and kissed you, his hand tenderly resting on your cheek. His lips were slightly dry. He had been working too hard, stressing too much, not taking care of himself. But here with you, he could feel like himself. He could feel loved.
When he pulled away, those anxious thoughts crept into your head again. “Where is-“
“Shh,” he shushed you with his finger against your soft lips. “I do not want to speak of her. I am here with you.”
You always thought of the Empress. The woman who had what you wanted more than anything in the world. You knew the marriage was political, you knew there was no love between them, but it stung. Another woman shared a bed with your love. Another woman had his hand in marriage.
But you had his heart.
“Let me lay with you,” he whispered. “Let me be here with you tonight. Let us not worry of anything else. Tonight, I am yours.”
Before you could protest, Geta’s lips were pressing to yours once more. He pressed forward, walking you back to your bed. You often wondered what it might be like to lay with Geta in his bed - you imagined it was much more comfortable. But that was impossible, and he never complained.
He laid you down gently, his hands caressing down your body. He climbed over you, his lips never leaving yours. His thick thigh slotted between your legs, rubbing against your core. You were so needy for each other - these dalliances were rare, you had to savor them when they happened, even though you had little time together before Geta was expected somewhere.
No one could find out about you. It would make him look like a weak ruler, turn public opinion against him. Rome always came first. Even when he didn’t want it to.
Geta’s lips worked down to your neck while his large hands slid up your tunic. You had prepared specifically for this, spending extra time in the bathhouse, coating your skin in his favorite scents. He breathed you in, his favorite drug.
He undressed you swiftly, his eyes hungry for more of you. Your hands worked at his tablion before removing his robes, his gorgeous, toned body revealed to you. How lucky you were, to see all of your emperor in this way.
His cock was already hard, ruddy tip leaking from his desire. He could never control himself around you, always needed you right away. He thought of you constantly in the times you were apart, always looking forward to the next chance he had to be alone with you.
Once your tunic was gone his mouth went straight for your breasts, mouth eagerly wrapping around your nipple as he sucked, his tongue running over the nub before he grazed his teeth ever so gently over it, making you gasp. He loved the little noises you’d make, they got him going like nothing else.
“Beloved,” he groaned against your breasts, nipping gently at the skin, leaving marks. “You are divine. You are a blessing from the gods themselves, placed in my hands. All mine.”
You loved his words, but there was always that nagging voice in the back of your head that you weren’t his. You were just a slave. He was the Emperor. He had a wife. The negative thoughts made their way back, tears welling in your eyes. Geta noticed immediately.
“My dove,” he murmured, a hand on your chin turning your gaze to meet his. “Why do you cry?”
“It’s just…” You tried to hold his gaze, but found your eyes dropping. “I just wish we could be together.”
Geta’s chest ached. He wanted that more than anything. He would give anything for your happiness, anything to have you. But it was impossible. There was simply no way.
“I know, my love,” he said. “As do I. But let us not think of it now. I am here, and I want to make you feel good. I want to be one with you. I want to show you how much I love you.”
You tried not to dwell as he went back to kissing all over your body, throbbing cock pressed against your core. He slowly rocked his hips, cock sliding just between your folds, coating himself in your wetness. He longed to bury himself inside you, to thrust in to the hilt and take you for his own.
He reached between you to line himself up, pressing just barely inside you before pulling back out, teasing you - and himself. You whimpered at the loss before he was pushing back into you, his girth stretching you like no other man could.
“Geta-“ you let out a choked moan as he filled you in a single strong, slow thrust, his low groans vibrating against your neck.
“You feel incredible,” he groaned against your skin, rolling his hips in a slow pace, savoring the feeling of being inside of you. Every inch of him was buried into you, the pleasure all encompassing for you both. “Like no other.”
You hated the thought of your love with other women. You knew he had been, of course. He was married, after all, and before you there had been others, concubines. It still twisted your heart in your chest. Knowing you were his favorite (and his only, now) only soothed the sting a little.
The thoughts were pushed from your head as he thrusted particularly deep, cock pressing against your bundle of nerves in the way only he could. Geta was the only man who had ever brought you to orgasm, and he made sure to every time. He loved it. He loved bringing you pleasure.
His large hands spread your legs wide, and he looked down to where you were joined, a soft whimper escaping the emperor’s lips at the sight. His pace faltered for a moment, hips stuttering into you as he lost control for only a brief moment.
“Fuck,” he let out in a quick breath, his fingers digging into the skin of your thighs. You thought about examining your body later, seeing all the proof of Geta’s claim. He liked to mark you up, liked to see you around the palace with the proof of what he’d done to you, although he was the only one who knew.
You clutched onto his strong arms, whining as he began to pound into you. Your back was arching, vision going spotty, nerve endings coming alive. Your body felt like pure energy, a storm brewing deep in your core.
“Geta…” you cried, your hips moving up to meet his thrusts. “I’m…”
“I know, my dove,” he said, eyes meeting yours, looking deeply into them. “I can feel you. Can feel you clenching around me, needy little thing. Go on and cum for me, cum for your emperor.”
Your mouth dropped into a wide O as you felt it, that feeling Geta brought you every time. It spread through your body like lightning, and you came hard, crying his name over and over.
Geta bent over, burying his face between your breasts, placing kisses all over them as he grunted with every thrust until he was stilling, filling you deeply with his spend. Your mind was so hazy from your orgasm you didn’t think twice about how he didn’t pull out and finish on your stomach and breasts the way he usually did.
Geta’s trembling hands held onto you for a while longer as he breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. When he finally did, he pulled out of you, rising from the bed and reaching for his clothing.
You watched, your heart sinking. “Must you leave so soon?”
He turned to you, his expression genuinely hurt. “I must. I am sorry, little dove. I will be back as soon as I possibly can.” He reached for you, his hand resting on your cheek. “You know how they watch. It is not so easy to slip away.”
You understood, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Instead you laid there, still naked with Geta’s seed between your legs, as he dressed and placed a final kiss to your lips and the top of your head before leaving.
And you were alone once again.
It had been but a few months since that night with Geta when you knew something was wrong.
Your cycle was regular. It was something you could count on. When it didn’t arrive, that was your first worry. Then your breasts began to swell and ache, sensitive even to the feeling of your clothing rubbing against them. When you noticed the slightest rounding of your stomach, you knew there was no denying it. You were pregnant with the Emperor’s child.
He didn’t visit for a while. It always hurt when he didn’t come, having to see him through the palace acting as if he didn’t know you. It was like a sword to the chest, yet a pain you knew all too well.
When you received a missive through Geta’s most trusted courier, a message letting you know he would be coming, your anxiety increased. This was it. You would have to tell him. How would he react? Would he be angry? Happy? That was naive, you thought. You would never be a family.
This pregnancy could have you killed. Your child could be born into slavery. The thought itself made you sick to your stomach.
So as you paced your chambers, waiting for Geta’s arrival, you thought and thought. There had to be something you could do to save the child. There had to be.
You heard his footsteps. As always, you tensed, listening closely. When he came inside, a soft smile spreading across his face at the sight of you, you let out a breath. He always brought a comfort that wasn’t entirely logical.
He said your name gently as he approached, taking your soft hands in his. Your returned his smile, wanting nothing more than to collapse into his arms and tell him everything, and have him tell you it would be alright.
His eyes roamed your body, as if he could see a change but didn’t put it together. His large hands came to rest on your hips, rubbing your body over your clothes.
“I have missed you,” he muttered, his head dipping towards you, lips nearing yours. You accepted the kiss, but when he tried to deepen it and you knew where it was headed, you gently pushed at his chest. He moved back, looking down at you with his brows drawn together.
“What is the matter, my dove?”
You didn’t know what to do. He would know once your clothing came off. You had to tell him. But how? “Geta…”
His hand rested on the side of your face, thumb gently tracing your bottom lip. “Something is bothering you.”
“I…” You paused, unsure how to continue. “My cycle…it…I didn’t…”
Geta just stared at you. Then, a grave understanding passed over his already pale face. “Oh.”
You watched his face for any further reaction. But he had withdrawn into himself, his mask he never wore around you coming over his features. Your heart sunk. Was he angry with you? Would he - gods forbid - have you killed to keep his secret?
He looked away from you and you watched as he lifted a shaking hand and ran it through his ginger hair, blowing out a long breath. He began to pace your chambers, shoes scuffing against the floor. This was a version of him you knew from around the palace - stressed, thinking, burdened. You were his only reprieve from this form of himself, yet here he was.
“Geta…” you said gently, taking a tentative step forward. He held up a hand harshly and you stopped in place, startled. He was never this way with you.
He turned toward you, face immediately softening at your hurt expression. “I am sorry, my dove,” he said, walking back over to you. His hands rested on your upper arms. “But this is…”
You blinked back tears. You knew there was no happy ending. Nothing you had dreamed would come true. It was foolish. You were foolish.
He wiped at your tears with his thumb. “Please do not cry,” he whispered. “I hate when you are sad. Please. We…we will figure this out.”
That surprised you. “What do you mean?” you said, your voice cracking.
“I will not let harm come to you,” he said firmly. His eyes glanced down at your stomach. “Either of you.”
“But what can we do?”
“I…” He looked down. “I do not know. But I will find something.” His hands dropped from you and he moved to sit on your bed. “Come lay with me for now. I wish to hold you.”
You obeyed your emperor, walking slowly until you reached the small bed. He laid down, holding out an arm for you. You fit yourself into the mold of his body, your back pressed against his chest. You could feel his breathing as he wrapped his arm around you, holding you close.
His hand caressed your arm, your side, until he hesitantly reached forward and placed it over your stomach. His breath hitched as he felt the bump there, the proof of the life growing inside you. The life you had created together. You could feel his heart thudding against your back.
He didn’t move away. Instead, he placed a soft kiss to the back of your shoulder, rubbing your stomach. His mind raced. His emotions confused him. This was not good. This was disastrous. Yet, he was happy. The thought of you carrying his child, the child he had given you, warmed him from the inside out. He imagined what the child might look like, if it would be a boy or a girl.
He knew he would never know.
When you awoke, Geta was gone. You must have fallen asleep in his arms and he snuck out after. You had never fallen asleep with him before, but your bed suddenly felt much colder than it ever had.
You went about your day, your mind on the child growing inside you. You felt a fierce protectiveness. You looked over your shoulder throughout the day, terrified someone knew of your secret and would be coming for you. But no one bothered you.
When you returned to your chambers, you were surprised to find Geta waiting there for you.
“Geta…?” you asked hesitantly to the man sitting on your bed, his head in his hands. At the sound of your voice he looked up, standing and walking to you. He pulled you into a tight hug, holding you close to his large body.
“My dove…” he muttered into your hair, not letting you separate an inch from him.
“Geta…what is it?” you asked him, pushing him back only enough to look into his dark brown eyes.
“I…”
You could see pain in his expression, and that terrified you. You held onto him tighter. “Please. Tell me.”
His trembling hand came to rest on your cheek. “You know I love you. More than anything on this earth or above it.”
Your heart beat faster. “Yes. I love you, too-“
“I would do anything to protect you. And our child.” His voice cracked on the last word, as if he were choking back tears. You had never seen him cry.
“What is it?” you whispered, eyes searching as if something in his face would tell you.
“I’ve arranged to have you sent away,” he said.
Your heart stopped. “What?”
“It is the only way,” he said, and you could tell it was the painful truth. “They will have you both killed. I cannot have that. I will never let that happen, do you hear me? I will never let that happen.”
“So you’re sending me away?” you asked. “Alone?”
“You will be safe in the countryside,” he said. “I have arranged for you to stay with a family there. They will take care of you and the child. You will get the care you need. You will be safe.”
Your lips parted, tears welling in your eyes. Geta watched as they fell, helpless to take your pain away. Helpless to take his own pain away. “Will I ever see you again?”
He didn’t know how to answer that. His lack of an answer brought more tears, and he pulled you into his chest, rubbing your back.
“I would do anything to keep you both safe,” he whispered again. “Anything.”
His heart cracked as he held your shaking body, sobbing into his chest, soaking his tunic. His own eyes brimmed with unshed tears. He had to be strong for you, especially now, despite the intense despair he felt, the hopelessness.
“I will try to write to you,” he said. “I will try to visit.”
Try. You knew deep in your body that you would never see Geta again. But if it was the only way to keep the child safe, you would do it. You had no choice. You pulled back and looked up at him with red rimmed eyes. Your emperor, your love. The man Rome was terrified of, your only comfort. The only person who had ever loved you properly.
“I do not want to lose you,” you admitted, voice weak.
“You will not.” He took your hands in his and kissed the knuckles. “I will love you until my dying breath.”
With your few belongings packed, you stood outside the palace. Servants loaded your bag into the back of the carriage. You looked around, wondering if Geta would come to say goodbye. No one came.
“Are you ready?” the carriage driver asked you, tearing you from your reverie.
You blinked the tears out of your eyes. “Yes.”
You climbed into the carriage, and then you were off. Off to a new life. You rested your hand over your stomach, thinking of Geta. You allowed yourself to dream for only a moment of a life together. Geta holding the tiny babe, small fingers wrapped around his. The child of the emperor. Not that they would ever know it.
While you were still lost in thought, the carriage stopped abruptly, jolting you forward. You felt the panic rising in you, and you covered your stomach with your arms protectively.
“Wait!”
But you knew that voice. You opened the door and stepped out, seeing Geta running towards you from his own carriage. Both drivers looked forward, giving you privacy as if they weren’t even there.
He wrapped his arms around you once he reached you, pulling you close to his body. “My love,” he said. “I could not let you go without saying goodbye.”
The tears were back, streaming down your face. You clutched onto him tightly, wishing he’d never let you go. When he pulled back to look you in the eyes, he stroked your hair gently.
“The gods truly blessed me when they brought you to me,” he said quietly. “But my life has always been nothing but sacrifice.”
“Come with me,” you said, foolishly, knowing it could never be so, but desperate for him, desperate to hold onto him. “Come with us.”
Something broke in him then. “I cannot,” he said, and all the pain in his body could be heard in the words. “I wish I could. More than anything, I wish I could run with you. But I belong to Rome.”
You looked up at him with tear stained cheeks. “Will I ever see you again?”
“I will do everything in my power to see you again,” he said, and you knew that was the best promise he could make you. “I love you. If you remember anything about me, remember that. You will be in my heart for all of eternity.”
He pressed his lips to yours, not caring that the drivers were still nearby. He put all of his emotions into that kiss, both of you could feel it through your bodies like a current. He pulled away, and stepped backwards, reluctantly dropping your hand.
“Be well,” he said. “I love you, my little dove. I love both of you more than I have ever loved anything.”
You watched with a broken heart as he climbed back into his carriage and they left, heading back towards the city. You felt in your chest it would be the last time you ever saw him.
You climbed back into the carriage, a hand resting on the swell of your stomach. A new life. A new beginning. And an ending.
