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"You like to watch, don't you?"

You turn around quickly, the blush rising to your cheeks. "My Liege, I'm sorry. I was just waiting for my mistress to return..."

He smiles slightly, the shift of his opulent fabrics catching your attention. Your eyes drift down his body unintentionally, drinking his lean form under the black and purple. You've always thought he was attractive, admiring him from a safe distance or stealing looks behind the train of your mistress.

But now he's here alone with you in a secluded place.

"It's quite alright. She's tending to affairs that don't require your help. Now, answer my question."

You lick your lips, your mouth going dry. Lucius Aurelius Commodus is a powerful man. He stands to rule the Empire soon enough, and you, being his sister's servant, are virtually nothing in comparison. Your name is said only by those who beckon you to serve them. "I like to watch, yes. I can see what happens that way, get a taste of what it's like to be someone else."

He takes steps towards you. You lock in place. He's not only your superior, but he's also dangerous. Everyone in the palace knows that, even the Emperor far away in Germania. "I think the truth of it might bore you. All those senators, politics, it's vastly overrated."

You notice that his eyes have locked with yours, his intense stare seeming to pierce through your thoughts. He's picking up on your unwitting attraction to him, he has to be. Why else would he be lingering in a slightly less polished hall in the palace, one that many of the servants use to move past the upper class of Rome unnoticed? "I guess."

"Or perhaps my sister only -shows- you the finer things, the luxury of fine fabrics, the treatment she and I receive... you long to be clad in linen and silk rather than wool, like her, to have your beauty praised by men... don't you?"

Your chest is tight as you try to breathe. You could get in serious trouble for this if you get caught, and you're so concerned about that that you miss the fact that he's moved even closer, his body centimetres away from yours now, the occasional brush of fabrics making you want to jump in alarm. "Yes," you stammer out.

"Poor thing, always out of the light. I could dress you like the moon and make you light up the night." He takes another step closer, and his hand brushes along your jaw. You close your eyes.

Your dreams don't match the power of his touch. This hand is real, solid, warm, caressing you with a bold desire... one you don't think you can resist. One that you shouldn't resist. He is yours to have; you know that and so does he.

"All I want," he slides up completely against you, his other hand finding your waist amidst all that fabric, "is to know whether or not you want me to leave."

You close your eyes. Do you really have a choice? In your idle fantasies did you imagine something like this, his hands on your body, his attention solely devoted to you... and now you have it. You'd be a fool to defy him. "Stay, please. Liege, I--"

"Ssssh," he croons, pulling the clip out of your hair, the carefully braided locks dropping onto your shoulder. His face closes in on yours and you look into those eyes. Deep and striking, you see the edge of malevolence, but also the passion, the emotional side tightly locked behind ambition and pride. "None of that, not now. Just let me..." his voice trails off and the hand at your waist hooks fingers, holding you still, his lips sinking onto yours.

You try to jump back initially, fearing this complete a touch, but it doesn't last long, a heat settling into your blood as you respond finally, tasting his mouth with an emboldened move. Setting cautious hands on his royal form, your fingers rub along the silk, the luxuriant cloth smooth as you give yourself over to him, slipping your palms down his front. Your breath stolen away as he penetrates your mouth, his tongue brushes yours questioningly, challenging you to react to him.

Throwing caution aside somewhat, you react a little, nipping at his lower lip, sliding your hands further down to his waist, encircling the soft, fabric covered flesh with your arms as you press your body against his, seeking the man behind the noble clothes. Accidentally catching fingers along an edge, nails strike his skin, and he growls in his throat.

You open your eyes, surprised. But rather than being reprimanded, he grinds his hips hard against yours, the layers doing little to hide his undeniable hardness, your own body reacting with a anticipatory shudder. You're no innocent, but you're not used to this kind of intensity. Gasping for breath, the blue band bound around your waist suddenly twice as tight as when you tied it this morning, you reluctantly break away, a whimper catching your throat as he attacks your neck, his hands now freely roaming your body.

Then the touch of propriety reawakes. This isn't exactly a private area..."Liege."

The tip of his tongue delves along your pulse point as you try to speak again, a chuckle teasing its way to your ears.

"My Liege?"

He raises his head and regards you, the intense look melting your sense away. "Yes?"

And now your words are failing you. Naturally. "This is the hallway... you could be spotted."

He laughs again, quietly. "You fear getting caught with your future emperor?"

"No," you start, but the rest of your sentence is stopped by a finger at your lower lip, playing it open as he nips your upper lip tenderly, his dark bangs tickling your forehead. The hand that was at your waist drifts over the lower part of your back to caress over your buttocks, his firm grip unquestioning.

You are his.

And you don't seem to mind. Not right now. Releasing your hands from him, you slide them down his front, past the tunica's hem, trailing fingers under the reddish-purple fabric to land on the soft, warm wool of his loincloth. Exploring delicately, you cup the sensitive organs, his entire body stiffening as your thumb brushes across the tip of his shaft. When he relaxes against your hand, his throat betraying him with a groan, you tug at the fabric, loosening it so you can pull it away, distracting Commodus with another kiss, savouring the moment of domination over a future leader of the Empire.

By the time you can play your fingers along the hot, engorged flesh of his member, the wool worked aside, his hands have wrested the palla from your shoulders, dropping it to the floor and are now making short work of the band of ribbon binding your dalmatica.

But then he stops, jumping back despite your grip on his lower half, turning his eyes towards the end of the hall. Hissing lightly through his teeth, he surveys your still covered form and whispers in an unquestioning tone. "My chambers."

You nod and crouch down as his head is still turned and listening for intruders to this forbidden scene, reluctantly removing your hands to gather up the palla at your feet. Sliding it over your shoulders and the tell tale wrinkles of clumsy hands, you slide out of the little niche, padding down the hallway towards the lavish bedchambers that bear Commodus' mark, casting furtive glances back towards the niche.

Pausing at the threshold, you swallow suddenly, nervous. You enter here and you may never be the same. The wetness between your legs betrays your desire, and you long to feel those hands again, but this is nothing like taking a normal man. You are his sister's servant, your living area a quarter of the size of this one room, the gentle wind dancing through the pale curtains a luxury you don't know.

"Come now, dear one," he murmurs, suddenly at your back, his hips curled against your buttocks, his hands easing the palla off you once more.

Shifting your head, you take a single step forward, freeing your shoulder from the blue and silver fabric, drawing a deep breath as you untie the ribbon and release it, letting it flutter to the ground just before you reach the bed, turning around to see him cast off the lacerna, exposing his finely honed musculature through the remaining layers. His is a lean but powerful body, and you shiver at the thought of what he can do with it.

Crossing the room, picking up the ribbon with a lazy bend to the floor, his stride is determined, his eyes locked on your body. Stopping to stand in front of you, parting your knees wide with a gentle push of hands, he slides up against you, running his hands wantonly along the lines of your breasts, pausing at the apex, playing fingers across an obscured bud.

Closing your eyes, you swallow hard, the sensation electrifying. It takes all your will power to not gasp when his hands fall the rest of the way down and lift up the two layers of dress, exposing your bare legs and ironically appropriate lack of undergarments, sliding his hands under the fabric, he massages each breast, teasing the nipples to hardness before sliding fingers down over your abdomen to dip them briefly past the dark curls, stroking your clitoris, the wetness slicking his fingers.

He chuckles slightly as you moan, pressing his fingers further into your sex, dancing the tip of his index finger around your opening, capturing your lower lip in a suckling kiss as you open your mouth, moving almost involuntarily against his movements. Whatever it is, maybe the fear in the back of you mind about being caught with a man so above your class, this attention is coiling your nerves into a need you've rarely felt.

Breaking away, letting your head fall back, he penetrates you with his finger, pumping gently against inner walls, pressing his palm against your pelvis as you shift against him, biting back the noises trying to betray your enjoyment. Feeling a hand cradle your neck and draw your face up, you lock on fierce hazel eyes, his mouth parted in a animalistic smile, licking his lips as he watches you react to his hand drawing you close to climax.

But before you reach that plateau, he stops, slipping free his hand, drawing it up to lick his fingers in front of you. A little startled, you swallow, trying to catch your breath, watching him like a hypnotised cobra.

Setting a knee on the bed, Commodus pulls the tunicas over your head, exposing your body to the late afternoon light, the lighter pallour of your normally covered skin flushed from his touch. Cocking his head to savour the sight, he licks his lips slowly, taking a deep breath before standing back up again. Pulling free the clothes from his body with a careless manner, his muscles tense as he stands prone in his own territory.

Again the nervousness returns, despite the echo of what he feels like pressed up against your body. Bolt now or seize this opportunity to embrace your greatest chance of power. Your mistress will understand. It's her brother, after all.

With a freeing slide of the last vestment, the soft loincloth that your hands had discovered, he takes a moment to enjoy the freedom of his now nude body, the muscles in his limbs tensed, his now totally stiff member standing out from his frame.

And before you can really do anything, he's crossed the distance, pressing in between your legs, pushing your back to the bed, your hair pooling around the linen. His weight leans down on you as he settles his hips against yours, the tip of his organ rubbing along your mound as he pierces your mouth with his tongue, taking your mouth more forcefully now. Threading his fingers through yours, he pins your hands above your head, stretching you out on the bed.

Arching up against him, struggling under his hold, you slide a leg around, laying your foot near his knees, feeling him scoot right into the now wider space, adjusting his hips so his member presses at you opening. You suppress a whimper, feeling the moisture weep from his tip, his deep moan murmuring in his throat as he bites at your lip, using one hand to hold your arms up still, the other sliding down your frame to cup a breast, rolling the hardened peak. Whimpering into his mouth, you close your eyes, the edge of that climax he teased out of you rising again, writhing under him in an effort to make him take you finally, completely.

Breaking away, he rocks back a little, watching you gasp for air as he nips at your chin, freezing as he sinks himself inside you, the little shudder of pure lust taking him. You cry out at the filling, your muscles locking in white heat tension, your fingers turning to claw at the fabric.

His hand releases you and you dig your fingers into his scalp, pulling him down against your neck as he withdraws and then pushes deeper, grinding his pelvis against yours as the tip rubs along the aching walls. Your legs tighten involuntarily around his lower half, holding his body to yours as you gasp, little cries matching each upward jarring of your spine. Hearing his breaths, short and ragged, his cheek nuzzles along your jaw until he loosens your grip on his head, raising his face to meet your eyes, watching your expression with ferality.

Clamping your eyelids shut, you bite your lip, sliding your hands down to his toned shoulders, you try to fight off the whine as you go over the edge, the orgasm making your entire body shudder forcefully as he still continues to thrust as deep as he can inside you, groaning as the inner wall muscles spasm against his rigid member.

Waiting out your orgasm, the light sheen of sweat broken out on your forehead, you barely notice as he stops, still fully buried within you, removing your hands from their grip, rocking backwards to unseat your legs while still holding your hips to his. Catching your slightly confused look, he grasps your arms, pulling you upright and off of his throbbing shaft, kissing your forehead with a comforting smile as he turns you around at your shoulders, urging you to lay on your stomach.

Sliding down, mourning the loss of him inside you, you spread your legs and brace yourself on the bed, backing up against his kneeling form with a blatant rub of thighs and buttocks against his legs and groin.

Running a hand lavishly down your arched back, he makes a murmuring sound, pushing you forward before a hand slides between your folds, teasing at your clit until you respond, immediately re-entering your core with a singe forward stroke.

Setting fingers into the bed surface, you make a strained cry, the different position setting nerves on fire. His chest falls against your back, his weight bearing down on you as he thrusts hard against your hips, the growl of painful need keen in your ears. Relentless, the rough patch of hair rubs against the rest of your sex, ticklish and erotic all at once, building a reaction in you. One of his hands finds your shoulder, turning a finger-driven grip into the flesh there, trailing down your back as you rock forward.

He groans and withdraws fully, working the reaction from his own body, sliding deeply inside one last time before groaning harshly, his hand tightening at the base of your neck as he comes, climaxing harshly, his body moulding against yours like water. You shudder and arch back, receiving his full weight as he moves mindlessly through the waves, his muscles untensing finally.

Dropping to your elbows and moving forward, you shift out from underneath him and free of his significantly more relaxed member, feeling the bed shift as he catches himself on his own limbs, his eyes half open as he catches his breath. Sliding up to rest your head on a pillow, you lay on your back, bending a single knee as you wipe the sweat off your face.

Crawling up the bed, looming over you again, Commodus slides a hand along your neck before stretching and laying down on your body, nuzzling your cheek as he wraps his hands around you. You sigh, accepting the peaceful, sweaty moment, absently stroking his hair, not even sure what's driving you to do it.

His breathing slows finally, deep and normal again as he raises his head to smile tiredly at you, kissing you gently on the lips before settling his head under your chin, accepting the embrace you offer him.

Realising he's falling asleep, you shrug to yourself and let it go, about to permit yourself the same luxury until a voice catches your attention.

Raising your head over the cropped black hair, you blanch as you recognise Lucilla standing there at the far side of the room near the entrance. Swallowing, a bolt of panic tearing through you, you keep your eyes locked on her, not daring to say anything.

After a moment of regarding the way her brother lays peacefully in your hold, she crosses her arms, shakes her head and turns around to leave.

You nod. Your curiosity is slaked; you've tasted what it's like to be someone else now.

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