Violent Hearts (V)
Emperor Geta x reader
Find the series masterlist here
A week into your marriage, Geta has a surprise for you
Chapter V warnings: 18+ (minors dni) - smut (male masturbation), reader has a fear of water and is mildly panicked at points. That’s about it for this one, but let me know if I’ve missed anything! 3.8k
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“Take it off. Please.”
Geta’s voice is a high whine, spit though gritted teeth. His cheeks are flushed a delicate rose, forehead shining with perspiration, bare chest heaving as he draws in breath.
He looms over you. Knees pressed into the mattress either side of your hips, his own rocking to fuck into the loose fist wrapped around his length. Without the sheets to cover him you can see it all. The tip flushed as deep as his bitten lips, he twists his hand over himself, spreading the pearls that bead from the slit.
“Please dove.” He begs again.
Your hands appear to move of their own free will. You take hold of the hem of your night dress, lifting it slowly to tease him. The thin fabric draws up, first exposing the plush of your thighs, then the soft curls on your mound. Geta eyes follow your movements. Your practically feel them on your skin, leaving a burning trail of desire.
With a flourish you pull the garment up the last few inches, over your head and tossed aside. Geta groans as he eyes your chest hungrily, pupils blown with wonder, as though it was the first time he had ever seen a woman’s chest. His fist works quicker over his cock in response.
You want to watch, but you can’t help but be drawn to his face. Those dark eyes that burn and smoulder like a funeral pyre, the plump bottom lip that he catches between his teeth.
Handsome.
You push away the thought as soon as it comes to you. But Geta smiles, mouth curling into that all too familiar smirk. Like he knows. Like you had spoken your thoughts aloud.
“I’m - I’m gonna-“ he grunts, eyes now rolling back in his skull. You lean up on instinct. Wanting to be closer, wanting to feel the sticky mess he spills splash over your chest.
“Wake up dove.” Geta says, his voice suddenly calm and soothing.
“What?” You ask in confusion.
He’s stopped moving, his hands dropping to his sides.
“Wake up.”
When you blink Geta is no longer straddled over you. Your brows knit together, head turning in search of him. You find him stood on your side of the bed, his hand gently nudging your shoulder.
“Good morning dove.” He smiles.
“What - what are you doing?” You ask, your voice rough with sleep, an edge of frustration leaking into your tone.
“It’s time for breakfast.” He replies nonchalantly.
Your cheeks burn with shame. It wasn’t real. Your mind had fabricated those lewd images.
You sit up as he walks away, swallowing down the lump in your throat, grateful that he at least doesn’t seem to sense how fast your heart is beating. You feel its rhythm lower too, a pulsing between your legs accompanying an unfamiliar heat in your pelvis. With Geta’s back turned to you as he lets in the servants you press your thighs together, feeling a slickness coating your skin that makes you shudder.
You pray no one will notice it as they dress you.
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With your clothes on and your breakfast consumed, you wait for Geta to tell you his plans for the day. They are always the same. Endless meetings with the senate, preparations for battles to be fought on far off shores, or business deals that will strengthen the already sickening wealth of the empire. You do your duties without complaint, but Geta knows how tedious you find them. Always smirking and teasing when you roll your eyes, or rudely yawn from your boredom.
This morning he offers you his hand to pull you from your chair. You refuse it like you always do, standing with your arms crossed ready to follow him to the halls and sit at his side, ignored by all but him and the servants who are required to give you their attention.
But today he veers from his usual path. He leads you down unfamiliar corridors, through rooms of his home you have not yet seen.
The guards follow as they always do. You are never alone. Every step Geta takes is matched by another just a few short feet behind. You’ve learnt to tune out the clinking of swords bumping against hips that has become the soundtrack to your days.
“Are we not meeting with the senate today?” You ask.
“I have no pressing matters to attend to. Today I am all yours.” Geta smiles.
“Lucky me.” You grumble.
Your sarcasm never seems to bother Geta. He just laughs like he was expecting such a reply.
“I thought I could give you a tour of the place. This is your home now, there are no areas off limits to the empress.”
“I don’t know why I would need to know them. I am always with you.”
“True. But would still like you to see.” He says.
You follow him in silence, only half listening as he spins tales of lavish parties thrown in the various halls, shows off the impressive baths filled with sparking clear water, tells you the history of the many statues and paintings that decorate each room.
Just as your boredom reaches its peak, and you’re about to snap and tell your husband you’ve seen quite enough, Gets guides you out of a door at the back of the property. The marble steps lead down to an impressive garden. It makes the courtyard in your father’s home seem insignificant.
Laurel trees line the edges as far as the eye can see. Fragrant oleander bushes rustle in the breeze. The pale pink flowers bend and sway with the weight of fat bees that crawl their way inside, seeking the nectar held within.
The sight makes your heart leap with joy. The gardens in your old home were where you found solace. A place where no one bothered you. Breezing past like they didn’t even see you, your body tucked away behind soft petals and quivering branches.
Geta must sense that he has finally captivated your attention.
“Leave us.” He says dismissively, waving an impatient hand over his shoulder. The guards know better than to protest, even if leaving the emperor and empress unattended went against their orders. No one dared to argue with Geta. No one but you, and Caracalla.
Finally alone, Geta leads you down the steps. He is quiet for once, dropping back to let you lead, following you as you make your way through the gardens. You ignore the ornate fountains and towering marble statues of goddesses. Man made beauty pales in comparison to what surrounds you.
You let one hand dangle loosely at your side, brushing over the tops of juniper bushes as you pass, the crisp, piney smell filling the air. As you move deeper into the garden you spy a collection of geraniums sprouting from a bed. You gasp, walking faster now, almost a half run before you drop to your knees beside the flowers, not caring if you dirty your expensive tunic.
“These are my favourites.” You say quietly, stroking your fingers over delicate petals, as soft as the skin of a newborn.
Lowering your head you breathe in deeply, savouring the familiar smell. For the first time since arriving in Rome you feel a pang in your chest, a longing for your previous home. You’re reminded of lazy summer afternoons, dozing in the sunshine while the insects buzzed around you. Small moments where you could forget just how much of a disappointment you were to your family.
You pluck a stem from the ground and tuck it over your ear. The ruby petals kiss your temple, the flower’s sweet perfume carried to you on the breeze.
When you stand Geta is looking at you with a curious expression.
“What?” You snap, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
“Nothing dove.” He says softly. His smile is softer too, not the grin with an edge of cruelty that you’ve come to know.
“Come,” he says, nodding his head.
“There is more I want you to see.”
You’re reluctant to leave the garden, but you acquiesce.
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The two of you walk in silence, deeper and deeper into the garden until you can know longer see the house when you turn your head back.
The path you follow grows narrower, the bushes here less cared for, some so overgrown they spill over onto the gravel and you are forced to step over them.
“Where are we going?” You question.
“It’s just a little further.” Geta replies.
Up ahead the cypress trees begin to part. Geta’s strides increase in length, and you hurry to keep up with him.
You’re unsure what you had expected to find once you broke into the clearing. But the still water is certainly a surprise. It’s not big enough to be a lake, you can clearly see the other side from where you stand. It’s more of a pond you suppose. But it’s waters are surprisingly clear, the surface glinting under the midday sun. Papyrus reeds line the edges, and dazzling bright dragonflies zip across the air above the water. On the other side stands a lone temple, smaller than the grand buildings you have been used to seeing. Vines curl delicately around the pillars, as though the land was claiming the stone as its own.
It’s beautiful.
“This was my favourite place to come when I was a boy.” Geta explains.
“Caracalla and I learnt to swim here.”
He moves to take a seat at the waters edge, lowering himself onto the smooth pebbles on the ground.
“Did your father teach you?” You ask as you take a seat beside him.
Geta scoffs.
“He was far too busy for that.”
You wait for a further explanation that never comes. The two of you sit in a comfortable quiet.
Geta kicks off his sandals and stretches out his legs, toes dipping into the water.
“We should get in.” He says suddenly.
“Absolutely not.” You laugh.
“Why?” Geta asks. He jumps to his feet and begins to undress.
“Geta!” You hiss, looking around you as though someone may suddenly appear.
“We’re alone dove. And I want to swim.” He says. His stola and tunic fall to a crumpled heap on the ground. His pale skin glows gold in the sunlight.
You look away quickly, ignoring the way your stomach flips at the sight of his length hanging heavy between his legs.
“Come on.” He orders.
The water splashes and ripples as he walks in. He waits until he is waist deep before he turns back to look at you, frowning when he finds you have not moved.
“Dove. Get in.” He repeats.
“No.” You say petulantly. You cross your arms across your chest for good measure.
You brace yourself for an argument. Half expecting Geta to shout and stamp his feet much like his brother does. Instead he just shrugs.
“Suit yourself.” He says.
The sun reaches its peak in the sky while you sit on the waters edge. Geta moves expertly through the water, well toned limbs slicing through the surface without so much as a splash. You lose track of the times he crosses to the opposite side and back again.
After a while he comes back to where you sit, standing with the water just reaching his belly button. The dark hairs that trail beneath it are slick to his skin.
“It is awfully hot dove. You really should come in, the water is so cool.” He says.
“I am fine.” You lie. In reality your skin is prickling with the heat, your clothing stuck to your back which is drenched in sweat.
“Anyone would think you’re scared.” Geta teases.
“Fuck off.” You say weakly.
You hesitate for just a second too long before you bite back. Geta’s brows dart up.
“You are scared, aren’t you?”
“I am not.”
“Yes you are. It is written all over your face. Poor little dove, what is there to be afraid of?”
“I can’t swim!” You shout. Your voice echos across the empty space, a few birds fleeing from their nests in the trees at the sudden interruption.
“No one ever bothered to teach me.” You grumble, feeling your face heat with embarrassment.
Water has always frightened you. The single time you had travelled with your father to a coastal town as a child had cemented that fear. The rough waves crashing against the shore seemed so unforgiving. The boats that were returning to port bobbed violently on the water, the oarsmen struggling to fight against the currents and bring their vessels home. You thought it crazy that anyone might attempt to swim in it. Even the baths made you nervous. Always staying where your feet could rest flat on the bottom, keeping close to the edge so the tiles were within reach.
“I could teach you.” Geta offers.
“No thank you.”
“Come on now dove. I know you must be melting. Just come in a little ways, I will keep you safe.”
You eye Geta suspiciously. You still don’t know him well enough to tell when he is being genuine. So often everything is a game to him, seemingly kind words laced with sarcasm and cruel intentions.
“Please.” He says softly. It appears to be becoming a habit for him to utter that word. One you’ve never heard him direct to anyone but you. It catches you off guard, much like it had that night almost a week ago when he’d pleasured himself by your side.
“I - oh fine!” You snap. When you rise and kick off your shoes Geta gives you a victorious smile.
Hesitantly, you take a few steps forwards, feeling the cool water on the tips of your toes.
“You’ll need to undress.” Geta says.
“Is this all just a ploy to get me naked imperator?” You sneer.
“No.” Geta smiles.
“But your clothing will weigh you down, and you shall sink like a stone. If you really wish to learn then you must follow my instructions.”
Rolling your eyes and muttering curses under your breath you begin to shed your layers. You pray Geta does not notice the way your hands shake, nervous energy coursing through you’re veins. You’re unsure if you are more scared of the water, or baring yourself to your husband for the first time.
With your clothes folded neatly and left next to Geta’s haphazard pile, you take another step in, the cool water now lapping at your ankles. The pebbles beneath your feet are smooth, less painful to stand on than you expected them to be.
Geta’s eyes drag slowly from your calves up to you hips, over the softness of your stomach then lingering at your breasts. The sudden chill has your nipples hardening, and you instinctively cover yourself with arms folded across your chest. Unlike your dream a few short hours ago, Geta does not eye you hungrily. There’s no evidence of lust in his expression, which you’re embarrassed to admit disappoints you.
“Eyes up here husband.” You still snap, pointing up at your face.
Geta tuts.
“What kind of man would I be if I did not take a moment to enjoy a sight as beautiful as the one before me?” He says smoothly. Your thighs press together at his words. Maybe he does like what he sees after all.
“Now walk to me. You will be able to stand here.”
You do as instructed. Taking measured steps forwards, being careful where you place your feet, worried that the slippery pebbles may give at any moment. Thankfully you make it without incident to where Geta stands, his arms outstretched as though to welcome you in.
“There we go. That’s not so bad is it?” He whispers.
You’re reluctant to admit that it is actually quite pleasant. You are waist deep now, the water soothing the heat of your skin.
Geta takes a step backwards.
“Follow me.” He says.
“I don’t know…” you whisper.
“I - I don’t want to go too deep.”
“It’s okay. You will still be able to stand here.” He says calmly.
You inch forwards a little more, Geta whispering words of encouragement with every step you take. The ground beneath you shifts, the pebbles giving way to the soft mulch at the bottom. You gasp in panic, the water reaching your chest far quicker than you anticipated.
Panicking, you reach for the only sturdy object within reach. Grabbing Geta’s hands, squeezing his fingers tight.
“You’re alright. I’ve got you.”
You focus on slowing your breathing. Geta stops for a moment, giving you time to calm down. When you are settled, he moves to wrap one arm around your waist, the sensation of his hand touching your bare skin sending a jolt of heat through you. He guides you back, until the water has reached both of your necks.
“Too far. It’s too far.” You plead. Hot tears begin to pool in your eyes, and you tilt your chin up to the sky, refusing to let him see.
“You are safe dove. Just take a few steps back. I won’t let anything hurt you.” Geta says.
It is shocking how much comfort his words bring you. How much this man who infuriates you so can also soothe you, bringing you back from the edges of your panic.
Back in a more comfortable spot, Geta pulls you closer to him, barely an inch left between your bodies.
“Look at me.” He says. Not a barking order. Just that same calming tone.
His eyes sparkle in the bright sunshine, flecks of bronze amongst the burnt umber that you’ve never noticed before. His lashes are clumped together with moisture, framing his eyes and giving him a doe-like look. In the light the fiery red of his hair burns bright, streaks of gold shining more gloriously than the ornately carved crown of leaves that rests on his head.
“You are doing so good.”
A pain twinges in your chest. Your whole life compliments were rarely given. You were too loud, too abrasive, unladylike and troublesome. But for all of Geta’s snark and teasing, words of praise seem to come to him just as naturally. You never realised until now just how desperate you were to hear them.
“I am?” You ask.
“Of course. My brave, beautiful wife.” Geta says earnestly. You sway forwards, drawn closer to him by some force you cannot explain. For a moment all your fear is forgotten. Held in your husbands arms you feel safer than you have in a long time.
You eyes drop to Geta’s lips. Plump and pink, kicking up at the edges in a gentle smile. You think back to your first kiss. First and only. How alien it had felt, to have his lips pressed to yours. It had disgusted you then. You weren't so sure you felt the same way now.
“I think you’re ready for the next step.” Geta says, pulling you from your hazy thoughts.
“What’s the next step?”
“I teach you to float. You need to know how to keep yourself above the water before we even think about swimming.”
“How will we do it?” You ask.
“Lay back.” Geta instructs. You eye him with suspicion.
“I will keep hold of you. Here.”
His hand moves to rest between your shoulder blades.
“Lean back into me.” He says.
It’s an awkward angle. You try to keep hold of Geta’s shoulders as you put more weight onto his hand.
“You have to let go. Just let your hands rest at your sides.”
Reluctantly you drop you arms.
“Good girl.” Geta murmurs.
Left awestruck by those two little words, and the way they have heat pooling low in your belly, your body offers little resistance as Geta moves you where he wants you. Encouraging you to dip until the back of your head touches the water, while his other hand reaches down to cup behind your knees. Before you know it you’re lying supine on the surface of the water. Staring up at clear blue skies, supported by Geta’s touch.
“Dove, you need to breathe.” He reminds you. You hadn’t noticed that you’d been holding your breath. You let your lips part and exhale deeply, feeling your muscles relax.
“There we go. How’s that?”
“It’s… it’s nice.” You whisper.
“Thank you.”
One of Geta’s brows arches, but he returns the genuine smile you give him with one of your own.
You had never thought you would share a moment so pleasant with him, and you certainly never thought you would be this vulnerable. But despite being surrounded by your greatest fear, and feeling Geta’s hands on your bare flesh, you were happy.
“Imperator!”
The voice that echos from the shore has you tensing, legs kicking on instinct as you hasten to cover yourself.
“Woah. Easy, easy.” Geta says. He’s quick to cup your head and lift it before your thrashing has you sinking under the surface, bringing you swiftly to your feet. His arm pulls you firmly to stand behind him. Your body is shielded with his own, your hands settling on his waist for fear of letting go and drifting away.
“What do you want?” Geta snaps. His eyes are narrowed and hard as stone once again, two beads of onyx that glare meanly at the guard shifting nervously on the pebbles.
“I am sorry to interrupt imperator. But Senator Aureas sent me for you. There is news from Caledonia, and he needs your input urgently.”
“Do you answer to the senator or to me soldier?”
“You sir. Of course. It is just.. he was rather insistent.” The guard pleads.
Your hands squeeze Geta’s waist gently.
“It is okay.” You whisper in his ear.
“We can return here another day and continue my lessons, can we not?”
Geta leans back into your touch until the smooth plane of his back is pressed to your chest.
“We will.” He replies.
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Geta leaves you when you return to the house. A quick squeeze of your arm is offered in apology before he storms off to visit with the senate. You almost pity Aureas. He will surely bear the brunt of Geta’s fury.
Instead of returning to your room, you head to the baths. The pond might have been surprisingly clean, but you didn’t want the scent to cling to your skin all day.
It is more relaxing than usual. You still stay close to the pools edge, but your body is not fraught with tension. You let yourself relax, scrubbing your skin at a leisurely pace, enjoying the feeling of the water moving your hair when you lean back.
Once you are clean, you walk slowly back to your bedchamber, a small smile playing on your lips that you have not yet been able to shake. You are sure that Geta will have not yet returned, and are right, opening the door to an empty room.
But something catches your eye, stretching your small smile into an almost giddy grin.
A new gilded vase sits atop your dressing table. In it - a bright bouquet of freshly cut geraniums.
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