Hadrian and Antinous
A/N: Thank you all for your lovely reviews on "Zeus and Ganymedes" and adding it to your faves; I really didn't expect such a lot of positive feedback! I hope you enjoy this tiny piece just as much!
The musky, heavy scent of sex lingering in your room makes you feel dizzy.
Chase in your bed.
It's almost more than you can handle. Shimmering, slightly tanned skin, muscles that tighten and relax in a most stimulating way when you reach for him, the biting down on his lip in sheer delight and his yearning to be close to you as you let your fingers wander over his immaculate body.
Those marvelous little noises he makes as soon as he gets aroused by your touch. The blond, thick hair, dripping with oily lube smudged all over him.
His veins, still throbbing underneath the outline of his groin, are a sight you can't avert your eyes from for the world.
A few minutes ago, you alone put him in that state you now relish with extent, and it makes you ludicrously proud to have him unravel, even scream and curse and blurt out your name in unintelligible sounds.
Good Lord. You should start writing poetry and then stick your head in a bucket with disgrace.
He never shows any signs of embarrassment which, given his past as a seminary student, surprises you. There is something between you and Chase that you haven't felt with any women you've been before. Although he's a man, he always has sought your approval and guidance as well as of today. It wasn't the same with Stacy or Cuddy who were both born big-headed and stubborn like you.
Golden. That's what he is. You suppose you'd go mad just by looking at him as he shifts idly to move into another position, one that allows him to stretch out, flat on his back. Casually, you slip sideways not to wake him.
You wonder if he does what he does out of the inevitable ambition to please you. He's done it all over the years, and yet his efforts have remained futile. You've been abrasive, cruel, treated him like crap even according to his own words.
You couldn't bear the thought that he possibly stirred the desire in you to be important for somebody. To be needed. Caring is a quality you're not exactly entitled to have. At least that's what everyone kept telling you, including yourself. Everyone but Chase.
Is it an unexpected reward that you share your bed with him? In a way, maybe.
Then again, it's you who takes the benefit in your bonding. Despite that he can be bold and refreshingly open to trying something new, you hold the reins. He completely puts his trust into your hands, and you're not so sure if someday he's going to regret it. Cranky miserable cripples are not the first choice to be trusted. Chase has no other option any more – it had been too often he'd put faith upon the wrong person.
Amazingly enough, you don't want to be another disappointment in his life, be someone he invested all his feelings and devotion to just to find out you're not worth it.
He'd go his own way like he had grown accustomed to from early age.
You'd do anything to prevent him from going astray again, and you're scared to think that there might an impulsive word of yours to make him turn your back on you.
Drowsy from your previous physical encounter (the most compelling sex you can recall), Chase opens his eyes to lock them with yours. You feel a foolish twitch around the corners of your mouth. One lucky idiot, that's what you are.
He grumbles a bit (extremely inspiring!) before he reaches for your hand and entangles your fingers within his by forming a fist. The strength that comes from that gesture makes you shiver from the inside.
"I'm not letting go, no matter what you say", he mutters as though he'd read your mind.
You stroke his shoulder in a circling motion, or rather, you start from there, working your way downhill. His skin is smooth and yielding like a boy's. Or, if you're not too reluctant to admit, a girl's.
"Does that make me your slave? I thought it was the other way round."
"You're evil", he replies in that prominent sleepy accent of his as he grabs your hair and makes you shake your head in tongue in cheek self-denial. "That's why."
"So you're bound to stay with evil people until they dump you."
Instead of being irked, he sends you the most adorable smile. God, you don't know why you deserve him. There's a point where you are being a bit pissed about his loyalty and his refusal to get pissed himself.
"There was that callous Roman emperor. Hadrian. He purchased an Egyptian slave boy for his very own pleasure. He's believed to have been insatiable in his appetite for Antinous. Sometimes, you remind me of him."
Feigning outrageousness, you pull back. "Seriously?"
He sits up and tugs you close to his chest. He's so yielding and aching for you that you can't help but be in awe of his blooming youth and stamina.
You also feel flattered by the discovery to cause him goose bumps when he straddles you.
For a start, you carefully establish sucking on his wonderful pale nibbles. It's something that always gets him off, and he arches his back, wheezing gleefully as you'd predicted, hence lifting his lithe body over you.
Soothing him with a hush, you draw him back in your lap and hope he's not timid about what he's going to be experiencing down there.
You never know for sure with Chase.
Today, he's in a good, more or less cocky mood.
"They say he was a lust fiend and rode that poor little slave boy to death", he whispers in your ear, and you wonder if he's into dirty talk and if you have missed on some of his preferences.
Anyway, you play along. His groundwork sounds like fun.
"Let me get this straight. You'd rather die from sexual overdose in my strong wanton arms than having your independence back?"
He giggles. No other guy could give a snigger like Chase who makes it still sound like coming from a man's gorge.
Attentively, he nudges the furrowed bridge of your nose with his lips. You let your hands trail slowly over his torso whilst inhaling him deeply. He smells good. It's a striking combination of characteristic astringent fluids, blueberry muffins and mangoes. It's like you could eat him right on the spot.
Damn. Maybe he's right, and you have more in common with some domineering, abusive, old lecherous guy than you would have measured yourself up to.
"I don't. I never wanted it back. Not if I can have you for throwing it away."
You swallow hard to get rid of the abruptly rising lump in your throat.
It's a proposal you just received from a young man you never dreamt of to make his acquaintance beyond professional, and who had your life improved by sleeping with him.
Well, not exclusively by sleeping with him, but he's too great at it not to take it in consideration.
"There's an optional screw-up to the heartbreaking ending of the passionate love affair", you say.
Chase's interest is piqued; unfortunately, he slows down his movements that have been more than exhilarating. You silently urge him to go ahead, to let you slide inside him, but he tilts back your head and forces you to keep eye contact.
"Tell me."
"Your slave boy drowned himself to eke out old Hadrian's lecherous life because some wicked witch told him to do so. Which was naïve fallacy. Hadrian mourned the loss of his young lover and was never the same after his death. Don't turn into my Antinous either way."
As you meet his gaze, feeling vaguely clumsy and uncomfortable by your atypical outspoken demeanor, you grasp a glowing spark in his eyes that you could swear hadn't been there before Hadrian and Antinous.