"You want to what?" Boudica counted herself fortunate she had just polished off the last of her mead, or she might have spat it all over Nero's obliviously cheerful face.
"Take a walk in the gardens," said the blonde, her green eyes alight with the summer breeze. "I hear the carnations are just starting to bloom. We should go see them together."
"Take a walk. With me." No matter how many times the Celt turned the idea over in her head, it still didn't make sense. Even Nero had to realize how much Boudica hated her, hated the golden tyranny represented by her scarlet coat and proud bearing.
She scowled at the blonde, waiting for her to get the hint. Apparently she could wait a long time, as the Roman stood there with her typical pride, the curl of her lips dripping with that innocent smugness that never failed to raise Boudica's hackles. How could anyone lead an empire so bloodthirsty, and still believe herself to be so beloved?
Fine. She set down her cup with a certain viciousness that would have set off alarm bells in a wiser person. But no, not Nero. Never Nero, so sure that the world would bend to her every whim so long as she smiled charmingly at it. I'll play her game. But if it's companionship she seeks, she won't like where I finish it.
She rose from her seat and nodded stiffly at the blonde. As expected, the Roman took it naturally as acquiescence. She chattered gaily at her as she led her through the corridors and into the glass dome of the inner gardens.
As soon as they crossed the threshold, Boudica almost choked on the cloying perfume of the carnations. As promised (threatened?), they had invaded the grounds with their riot of pink petals and slender leaves, crowding out the more dignified violets and primroses.
How fitting.
She sighed as she glanced at Nero, expecting her to launch into some speech about the splendour of spring among the green hills. But to her surprise, the emperor's expression was uncharacteristically thoughtful as she reached for one of the blooms.
"These would look lovely on my nightstand," she murmured, her gaze lost somewhere in the tangled leaves. Even Nero was usually able to focus better than this, if only to declare her own virtues. Clearly she had something else on her mind.
Boudica sighed impatiently. "Out with it, then. You didn't bring me here to ask my advice on flowers. What do you want, Rome?"
Nero's laugh was the scraping dissonance of a violinist that missed a note. "I suppose it was too much to hope we could have a pleasant walk together. I've noticed that whenever you're in my company, a certain... tension... grows between us."
Jade flicked towards her, catching and holding her gaze. "That's actually what I wished to discuss with you." Her voice was a soft whisper among the buzzing of the insects. "I'd like to be... friends."
What?
Then she straightened, regaining the sliver of pride she had momentarily let fall away. "Umu! Yes, why not? For all our sad history, we served well as comrades under Master! And we shine magnificently on the battlefield." Her smile was the warmth of sunlight. "Let us turn the page on the unfortunate past! From now on, we shall forge our path together."
Boudica was speechless, but not thoughtless. That mead must have been stronger than I thought... even she cannot be this stupid.
She heaved a sigh as she considered her next words. As much vicious satisfaction as she would have drawn from pouring out her heart's venom on this infuriating woman, they were both arrows in their Master's quiver. She might find herself forced to work with her again on another mission, where festering wounds might prove a fatal liability. While Boudica could work through such resentments, as much as she hated it, she doubted the pampered emperor could do the same.
So it was in mostly measured tones that she ground out her response. "I don't think that will ever be possible for us," she said. "Some differences cut too deep."
"Don't say that!" said Nero, absently tearing at the flower in her hand. Boudica found herself watching the petals flutter down to the path at their feet. "Anything can be resolved with good cheer and open hearts."
She laughed, the ringing of golden bells. "Why, I have had many a deep quarrel in the past, even with my cherished companions. We always managed to move past our disagreements." Her smile turned sly, an expression Boudica hadn't thought her capable of. "If not with words, then with action."
"Action? You propose a duel?" Boudica's lips curled into a wolf's grin. Finally, she's making sense. "Very good. Name the time and place."
Nero's eyes widened. "What? No, of course not. Diplomacy before force, as my uncle always said." The smirk returned, more maddening than ever. "I have rarely ceded the victory in verbal sparring. But on those occasions, I always won the subsequent argument of the sheets."
Boudica's jaw dropped.
She did not just proposition me. I refuse to believe that she is that audacious.
Except she couldn't quite convince herself of that. Not when those emerald eyes were gleaming at her and those full lips were stretched into a cat-like grin.
Does she not know the outrage committed upon me and my kin? What her accursed soldiers did to my flesh and blood? She felt acid running through her veins. She calls herself Rome to anyone who cares to listen, and she dares invite me into her bed?
There was no cheer in Boudica's answering smile, just a hard edge of steel. "Who am I to turn down an alliance with Rome? Lead on then, Emperor of Flowers."
She had been warned. No reasoning person would miss the implication in her words, or the brittle ice in her voice. But Nero was immune to reason, for her entire face lit up as if she had just been offered the rarest of fruit on a platter.
"Umu! I knew you would see things my way!" She eagerly tugged on Boudica's sleeve, pulling her along after her. "Don't worry, everything will be made splendid! You have my word as emperor."
Splendid indeed, thought Boudica darkly as she followed. Nothing more splendid than Rome's arrogance in pieces at my feet.
Ten minutes later, the Celt found herself ushered into a vault of vanity. Nero seated her on a golden chair draped in leopardskin, humming as she set out cups with a clumsy eagerness befitting of someone who had often seen others serve, but had little experience doing so herself.
Boudica let her eyes roam over the canopy bed where Rome expected to make her yield. The rich purple spread looked decadently soft, suited for perfumed nobility and courtesans. It made her want to vomit.
"Would you like me to take the lead? I find maidens often prefer to be ravished, rather than do the ravishing themselves."
She set a cup of wine in front of the Celt, then took a swallow of her own. "Ah, but you were married. Perhaps you would rather be the pilum than the scutum?"
Any goodwill vanished like smoke blown away by a gust of wind. She can remember I had a husband, and still insult me this way. Boudica's knuckles tightened on her own cup as she forced herself to raise it in an abbreviated toast.
"The spear, certainly," she said, and drained her wine in one go.
Nero's hips swayed with deliberate provocation as she approached Boudica, letting her fingers play along the spotted fur behind her head. "Then I shall be your sheathe," she purred.
She hitched her crimson skirts up before settling herself in Boudica's lap. Warm flesh slid against the expanse of skin between the Celt's skirt and the top of her leggings, as warm as the breath suddenly ghosting in her ear.
"Touch me. Make me feel the fire, the passion of the Iceni." She leaned forward, pressing generous breasts against Boudica's front, and suddenly her perfectly serviceable tunic felt unbearably thin. Nero's points were already stiff, and she found herself longing to tear away the white bodice, the better to tease them to full hardness.
Then she remembered who she was dealing with. Rome, in all the golden pomp that covered its rotting foundations, was presenting its throat to her, so confident that she would not dare bite.
Time to teach her otherwise.
Nero's eyes closed blissfully as Boudica ran her fingers along the blonde's jawline, coaxing her into a kiss. They flew open as the Celt bit savagely down on her bottom lip, drawing blood. The iron in her mouth spurred the fire burning in her veins as she shoved the Roman back, ignoring her near-stupefied squawk.
"A pity you didn't learn from the mistakes of your successors," she growled, feeling the emperor shake under her grasp. "They had the wisdom to keep their gates closed when the barbarian hordes arrived to ravage at their riches."
She leaned over the now-frightened blonde, nipping at her neck.
"And look at you," she continued, "so convinced that she is beloved by the entire world that she would throw her gates open to her enemies and beg them to take her."
A sharp tug was enough to tear away that ridiculous corset. Rome's chest was flushed a tantalizing pink, just begging for her claim to be impressed on it with tooth and tongue.
"Never thought you would let a savage this far, did you?" she said in a low tone. "Yet here I am, ready to plunder."
The rest of that extravagant clothing was an annoyance, standing between Boudica and her prize. She grabbed the lapels of Nero's coat and tore hard at the material, exposing the curve of her slender shoulders. A few more sharp tugs laid bare her entire upper body. The whine she let out made Boudica grin.
"Please, h-hold on!" the little Roman said. "Let me—"
She squeaked as Boudica's hands gripped the hem of her skirts and tore them off too, carelessly letting them fall to the side. Then she bit her lip and seemed to steel herself, a corner of hard marble in the jade of her eyes.
Rome reached up in an attempt to loosen the strings on the front of Boudicca's shirt. "Here, you should—"
Boudica growled as she violently slapped the grasping hands away. "This is not a negotiation, it's a seizure. I have seen the fruits of Rome's bargains, and they wither away as soon as they no longer suit her. Not this time."
Nero opened her mouth in an attempt to protest, but her eyes went wide as Boudica bit down along her jawline. She gave a shuddering little cry as the Celt sucked hard on the skin, enough to leave her mark in the nights to come.
"Please," she gasped.
Boudica only chuckled darkly before moving her mouth down Nero's body, trailing her lips and teeth possessively along shivering flesh. She could feel soft breasts heaving underneath her as she scored countless love bites along her collarbone, stomach, every inch of her new territory. When Nero tried to arch away, she dug her hands into the smooth curve of her back, her nails tracing along the spine as she stilled her prey.
Nero gave a throaty moan, before her expression twisted into shock. She shook her head even as her body leaned into Boudica's harsh caresses.
"Please, not so rough!" Something pleaded in those gleaming eyes. "I can show—"
"No need. All I want to see is you, helpless under me." She grabbed the little Roman abruptly by the waist before hauling her over a shoulder. Nero squeaked and struggled to no avail, her fists beating uselessly against the Celt's broad back. Her cries turned into gasps as she was thrown roughly on the bed, the better for Boudica to settle herself comfortably atop her.
Gods above, I look forward to seeing you shatter under me.
Nero's head spun as she tried to find purchase on slippery sheets, her breaths coming out in sharp pants. Boudica's hair was a cascade of fire surrounding them like a curtain as the Celt sneered down at her. The Roman's throat constricted at the sight until she felt she was choking on air. How could things have gone this wrong?
Minutes earlier, they had been strolling together under the warm artificial sun of the gardens. Reconciliation, a cherished dream, had seemed so close within reach… a flower blossoming under the tender care of her words.
Now that hope was as tattered as the crushed petals slipping between her fingers.
Everything I touch always crumbles to pieces in the end. She might have laughed had she still had the breath to do so.
"You look good like this," the Celt said. "With a little bit of dirt and grime, you would fit right in one of your gaols."
Despite the cruelty in the curve of the other's lips, the pain in her eyes was all too real. I'm sorry. The words crawled up her throat, but the Emperor sealed her lips.
Rome only apologizes when it is advantageous to do so. Sentiment has no place in this battle.
The slightest impulse to protest rose and died as the Emperor seized the reins from her. She inwardly sighed and surrendered to him. After all, he had never led her astray in the past, not even when he had commanded her to execute her mother after the latest of many assassination attempts.
"A rose can bloom even in the hardest soil." Nero felt her lips curl up, unbidden, into the smallest of smirks.
A sharp snarl in her ear, and then Boudica shoved her arm up against the bedpost. She could feel something strapping her wrist against the frame, but instead of a dungeon's chain, soft cloth caught against her skin. She blinked as she realized it was torn silk from her own coverlet.
I could break this easily, she thought. She was not the strongest in the Saber class, though she would never admit as much to Master, but even she could easily snap such flimsy material with a simple flick of her wrist. She moved to do so when the Emperor's frown held her in place.
Desist, said the steely voice in her head, and her wrists went limp. This is another path to resolve your differences. There is power even in vulnerability. Do not hesitate to capitalize upon it.
It was hard to comply when the wolf was staring hungrily at her, but she managed to untense her shoulders and recline against the pillows. There is a fire in Boudica you cannot quench on your own, continued the Emperor. She must quell it herself, and you will be the water with which she does so.
Nero shivered in her bonds as Boudica tied down the other hand, her motions none too gentle. I'm afraid. She might hurt me.
The Emperor tutted at her, like the wet nurse who once played with her before Mother sent her away. Sometimes the argument of the sheets grows barbed. The body becomes a vessel for overflowing passions, not always of the tender kind. Sapphirine eyes looked down at her. It wouldn't be the first time.
Nero shuddered. Boudica must have noticed, for her scowl gave way to a vicious grin. "Can you feel the fear?" she said huskily. "Now do you understand how your prey felt as your talons stripped everything from them?"
Nero opened her mouth to correct her, but it was swallowed up by Boudica's lips crashing against her own. It was an invasion of teeth and tongue plundering her mouth, bringing a sharp taste of horehound and ash. She recoiled, but those lips pressed their attack, holding far too long until Nero was gasping for breath, light-headed, her hands jerking against their restraints.
When the Celt finally released her, there was an icy fire in her gaze as she glared down at her.
"My my, this suits you even better," she said. "Now you look like a cheap whore I took off the street."
Nero wanted to curl away from that harshness, but the Emperor stiffened her spine. You want her to spend herself, said the steel voice, and she cannot do that against a wilting flower. You must be her snapdragon, ever gracious under adversity.
She took a deep breath, then forced herself to smile up at the Celt. It only stoked the wolf's anger.
"Do you find this amusing?" growled Boudica. Coarse fingers descended upon Nero's breast, grabbing a point and tweaking it hard enough to make the Roman yelp. "Perhaps you will find it less so when you're writhing beneath me," she hissed.
There was another sound of tearing cloth, then Boudica was lifting tattered purple to her face. Nero blanched as she realized what the other meant to do.
"Please, no—"
The makeshift blindfold was ruthlessly tied around her eyes, Boudica grunting with satisfaction as she made it painfully taut. Nero blinked furiously against the darkness, her breathing sharp in her ears. Her heart was pounding so fast she could taste it on her abused tongue.
She yelped as fingernails ran along her abdomen, just enough to mark but not enough to break the skin. Without the benefit of sight, her sense of touch felt more sensitive than ever. Goosebumps raced all over exposed flesh and sent shivers coursing down her spine - and to her surprise, straight down to pool at her core. Heat blossomed unexpectedly, making her legs squirm against silken sheets. She had never felt so vulnerable—and yet it felt good, sinfully so.
The roaming hands trailed downwards, tracing the curves of Nero's trembling body before coming to rest on her hips.
"Where shall I sate my appetites first?" said the throaty voice in her ear. "Perhaps here?"
Palms rough from swordplay were rubbing possessively over her thighs, a sweet pressure that further fanned the flames building inside her. Nero bit her lip against the moan rising in her throat, choking it to a thin whimper. Alas, any hope that the wolf might overlook her slip was swiftly dashed by the wicked laughter echoing in the darkness above her.
"Or maybe here?" mocked the other, sliding her hands underneath Nero to firmly grab her ass. This time Nero couldn't help the gasp that tore from her lips as fingers roughly squeezed sensitive flesh, the mixture of pain and pleasure sending jolts through her overheated nerves.
"I don't... " she muttered thickly through the scarlet haze creeping into her brain. "I… please…"
"Both wrong." More laughter, dark and rich in her ears. "There's always one place where the wolf takes the deer, isn't there?"
Nero had scarcely any time to fear what the Celt meant, before the grasping hands abruptly pulled away. Only the Emperor's glower stopped her from arching upwards off the bed to beg for their return. Then she felt movement above her, heard the shuffling of knees on silk, and a heavy weight settled on top of her. She could feel Boudica's heat even through the linen of the warrioress' skirt and shirt. Then the other bore down, pressing her breasts fully against Nero's own aching chest. While the underside of the Celt's luscious mounds were covered in cloth, much of their round curves were as bare as the Roman's own. They were wonderfully soft where they flattened against Nero.
She was so distracted that she barely registered the breath ghosting up her neck until scorching lips attacked her throat again, mouthing and nipping at her pulse. Boudica seemed determined to leave a necklace of bites, red on her pale skin. Nero knew she wouldn't be able to hide them. Even if she wore a scarf, everyone would be able to see them in the flush of her cheeks.
Mother always made sure of that.
Every little laugh under her captor's breath would remind Nero of the day she had been conquered. She blinked, and the darkness behind the blindfold gave way to vaulted walls and the mirrors upon them. Heavy grunts echoed in her ears as she willed the tears back, looking pleadingly towards the corner where Mother watched.
A sharp pain cracked across her cheek, wrenching her back to the present. "Do you think to escape me? Let your mind float above your pain and shame?" The wolf's growl was sharper than ever. "You will not get to hold yourself aloof as that man did."
Fingers buried themselves in her tresses and yanked hard, forcing Nero's throat upwards into a hungry mouth. Teeth scraped the sensitive line of her jugular, dangerously close to breaking skin. Nero whimpered, sure now that she had lost the last thread of her proud mantle. But for all the savagery of the Celt's—no, Boudica, she reminded herself—hot hands on her, there was an odd tenderness to her violence. In some ways that made it worse, for Nero found she could not numb herself to the sensations being pulled from her body.
She was fully in the Celt's grasp now, panting and helpless despite the flimsy silk restraining her.
Submitting your flesh need not entail submitting your mind, said the Emperor coldly. Hold yourself proudly.
Nero tried to relax her muscles and reform the haughty mask of Rome's regnant, she honestly did, but it felt lopsided on her brow. However much the Emperor's icy glare lanced through her, it simply wouldn't hold.
Do I even want it to?
She wasn't sure anymore. Even in the harsh sun of Boudica's hostility, the pleasure flaring through her body was undeniable.
"Already your composure is slipping," said the wolf with vicious satisfaction. "What would your precious companions say now?"
Even more than her arousal, though, she found herself craving Boudica's attention. She had been a late arrival to Chaldea, and for all her good intentions, Master's focus had already been split among many Servants. It was the merest trickle of water in the empty chasm that had once been flooded by the adoration of her people.
Until they turned away from me. Abandoned me.
She shook her head ferociously to keep that thought at bay. She didn't want to think about it.
"That's right," Boudica rumbled. "They all left you, didn't they? None of them could tolerate your burden for long." She ran a hand along Nero's cheek in a mockery of a lover's caress. "But don't worry. Your friends may turn away, but your enemy will always be with you."
The words were a knife to the heart, and yet the blood bubbled hot from the wound. For all the pleasures shared with her companions had been fleeting. But from the iron in Boudica's grip upon her hip, she knew a bond had been formed. Forged in enmity and spite, perhaps, but strong as a shield wall.
Boudica would think of her until they both faded. That knowledge grounded Nero, made her feel real for the first time since she had walked halls of cold white metal and felt loneliness press down upon her. Even if the gaze was full of vicious anger, it felt like home.
Nero thought she might do anything, so long as Boudica kept looking at her.
"Anything you want," Nero breathed, before the Emperor seized her tongue and tried to force his own words. Somehow they became tangled in her mouth, until she found herself gasping out her own destruction. "Rome shall provide for you, as the she-wolf provided for Romulus and Remus."
She immediately winced, but the damage had been done. Even with the blindfold, she could feel Boudica freeze above her. There was a sharp intake of breath, and the bed shook under the other's rage.
"You clearly do not grasp the situation you are in," hissed Boudica, venom dripping from every syllable.
Nero's plea died on her lips, replaced with a gasp when her left breast was taken firmly in hand. Calloused fingers grabbed her nipple and twisted to the point of sharp discomfort.
"This is not something for Rome to grant," the wolf snarled. "This is for me to ransack and ruin."
Rough palms cupped her breasts fully, kneading the flesh together and apart in a way that edged on painful, but also poured Greek fire directly into her veins. Without her sight, she was helpless to anticipate where she would be ravished next. Every scrape and spasm served as a beacon in the darkness, and Nero found herself leaning into them.
"You like this," growled the wolf, with a touch of mockery in its teeth.
"No!" snapped the Emperor with her voice, even if Nero herself thought otherwise. But her other self was so used to issuing commands that he easily drowned her out.
Boudica wasn't fooled for a moment. She gave a short bark of laughter. "Yes, you do. See how your body responds so wantonly to my every touch."
Her free hand teased the circle of her navel before trailing down towards her entrance. Nero found herself rubbing her legs together in both nervousness and anticipation, and when had she gotten so wet? It was mortifying, but she could do little but gasp when deft fingers slipped between her legs.
To Nero's consternation, the digits danced only along the outer folds, enough to stoke her heat without providing satisfaction. She thought she might go mad with frustrated lust. With a low groan, she found herself bucking her hips against that hand, desperately seeking more friction.
Stop this at once! commanded the Emperor.
But Nero scarcely heard him over her own pulse pounding in her ears. She wanted, oh, she needed more pressure. She needed those rough fingers against her swollen clit. And yet they stilled, tracing only the laziest circles along her hypersensitive flesh.
"Please don't be cruel," Nero gasped out. "I never thought you so cruel."
The richness of sin oozed in Boudica's voice. "You have no idea how cruel I can be."
But she was kinder than her tone suggested, for she roughly pushed her fingers in. At the same time, she pressed her thumb against the hard bud at the top of Nero's folds, making the Roman groan with relief as she pushed herself down.
It lasted only a few moments before, to her distress, the fingers pulled out of her entirely and left her bereft. A whine of protest slipped from between her lips.
There was a long silence, punctuated only by her own harsh breathing. She could feel the Celt's pulse as it ran through the body pressed down on top of her, but the other was silent as the grave. Is she still looking at me? Nero blinked desperately behind her blindfold, wishing she could scour Boudica's face for the merest trace of what she might be thinking. Her legs rubbed together in anxiety and more than a bit of frustrated arousal.
Boudica's laughter was a whispering wind as fingers descended upon her. They played along the crease of her inner thigh, setting everything aflame in their wake. Nero mewled and rolled her hips towards them, craving more contact. But Boudica seemed set on driving her insane, for she refused to set a steady pace. Instead her touch was an erratic dance of varying rhythm, ensuring that Nero could neither predict nor adapt. Rather than speed her towards release, it kept her circling on the edge until she was in a frenzy of tears and desire.
"Please…! Ahh, please!" she begged shamelessly, tossing her head against the pillows. The Emperor glared at her, but for once she didn't care. She was lost in the sea of sensation.
Abruptly the fingers left her again. She sobbed in disappointment, until those same digits were pressed against her lips.
"Lick them," rumbled Boudica.
"What?" The blindfold's silk slid against her eyelashes.
"The fingers I'm going to fuck you with."
There was a final cry of indignation from the Emperor, but it swiftly petered out. The idea was rapidly growing very appetizing. Nero could imagine full well those deft digits working inside her, and her thighs shivered with anticipation. So it was with only a little hesitation that she closed her lips around them, gently sucking at the calloused tips.
Ahh, she thought as she slid her tongue along the hard edge of fingernails, I must be dreaming. For she could have sworn she heard a low groan of pleasure in a voice deeper than her own. A hand ran through her hair as the other pressed further into her mouth, flattening on top of her tongue. The rough skin tasted of salt and woodsmoke, but somehow this bitterness was more pleasant than the earlier taste of Boudica's lips. It tasted like hearth and forge, rather than raw resentment. So she didn't protest when the fingers closed to capture her tongue. A light tug, and Nero felt more control slipping away.
Somehow she welcomed it.
Boudica's voice sounded tight and a little curt as she drew her fingers back. "That will do," she said shakily.
Nero smiled as she let herself fall back against the sheets, sighing in anticipation. Her pride might be in tatters, but she thought it would all be worth it. So long as Boudica's gaze filled her soul as her fingers would hopefully fill her body, she would be anchored even in the fiercest of storms.
Boudica stared at her hand. The fingers were still sticky and warm, a strand of spit hanging between them. It reminded her of the nectar that had so recently coated them, when she had ruthlessly teased the blonde. That brought with it the memories of Nero's desperate mewls and gasps, and she felt her cheeks burn.
She took them into her mouth so easily, she thought with wonder. Where has the pride of Rome gone?
But come to think of it, that golden arrogance had been steadily slipping away. Now that the cloud of her anger had begun to clear, she could see that what she had taken for aloofness was vulnerability.
She looked at the blonde trembling beneath her, her skin flushed the same pink as her beloved carnations. Nero's tongue licked tentatively over her lips, and Boudica found herself tracing their path. She swallowed thickly as she felt heat pool low in her belly, and it was all she could do not to run her hands over every inch of the blonde.
Another injustice, she thought to herself. Rome was supposed to fall to its knees before me. Here she lies, and yet... why do I wish to follow her down?
Nero's breasts heaved with her ragged gasps, and Boudica was afraid she might have her answer. As she swept her gaze down, the delectable curves of her hips and thighs reinforced her suspicions. The arousal thrumming in her veins was unmistakable.
She took a long trembling breath herself. Thank the gods Nero was wearing a blindfold so she couldn't see Boudica's flushed cheeks—her face must have been as red as the blonde's torn coat. She forced her breathing to slow, taking in deep gulps of air in an effort to rebuild her composure.
"Please, Boudica," whispered Nero, squirming in her impatience. "Please."
The composure was washed away in a flood of desire. The velvety softness of that voice, and the simplicity of its plea—no flowery declarations, no distancing titles—sent her pulse racing.
Nero whimpered as she pushed herself up, arching her back desperately against the pillows. Her blonde hair trailed messily in the sheets, sending drifts of scent up to tickle Boudica's flaring nostrils. Roses undercut with the earthy musk of arousal, shameless and all the more powerful for it.
I want to touch her. The thought bubbled up unbidden. I really want to touch her. Not to torment her with stymied sin and aching hollows, but to enjoy every inch of the warm, breathing girl. She had been too caught up in breaking Rome to let herself appreciate what was spread before her. She stared at the delicate skin around the girl's navel, slicked with sweat.
How soft would that skin feel, if I let myself linger there?
Her thighs unconsciously clenched against Nero, dampening at their center. This was no longer about just breaking Nero. This was about experiencing the girl, and everything she had to offer.
"Boudica, please, I beg you," the girl beneath her mumbled. "I need you."
Boudica bit her lip. No, she told herself harshly. I need to keep control. I need to put Nero in her place.
Where was that place again? It was becoming difficult to think through the haze of her desire. When had her hands moved to run along the flat plane of Nero's stomach, eagerly tracing each dip and hollow?
Control, she gritted. It was impossible to grasp so long as Rome lay open so invitingly before her. She needed her to close her gates again, so she could take a battering ram to them and call herself satisfied. Boudica cast her thoughts out for something, anything, that would hurt the Roman. Some wicked barb that she could hurl viciously, some pain she could inflict upon Rome that would shake her from her heat.
"I see no Emperor before me," she forced a wicked edge into her voice. "All I see is a frightened little girl playing at kingship."
Her lips jerked, chasing the smile that should have come naturally. Yes, that's it. Close yourself to me. Show me that cold aloofness that Rome always held itself with.
Nero's breath hitched in the way that Boudica thought she had wanted, but the expected triumph failed to materialize. Instead she was left clutching only her longing for the girl beneath her.
Something twitched in the shadows of Nero's face, barely visible between the blindfold and the dim lighting. Boudica leaned forward, bringing her own face closer for a better look as her arms pressed down into the mattress. She gaped in astonishment as she realized the girl was smiling. Not the proud arch of a ruler, but the fragile open-mouthed joy of someone that had been saved.
Boudica really liked that smile.
"You see it," said Nero, her voice trembling in wonder. "You see me."
The girl lay back fully, the tension visibly draining from her. Her limbs relaxed as her body made itself welcome to her. Boudica watched in shock, each beat of her heart pounding in her ears as she took in the sight. She had thought she wanted Rome broken at her feet, tears staining its proud face. Instead, she found a beautiful woman spread before her, begging for her touch. Wanting to be ravished. Wanting her.
This is so much better.
She glanced once more at Nero's face, but the imperious mask that had so brazenly invited her to these chambers had slipped off entirely. It was Nero smiling back at her, a girl just reaching the summer of her life.
Following the strongest impulse she'd had since she came to Chaldea, she snatched the blindfold off. Nero inhaled sharply, and a small growl slipped from Boudica as she cupped the blonde's cheeks to turn her gaze forward. Blue eyes sought jade and locked them down.
"Look at me," rasped Boudica, and felt a rush of satisfaction when Nero gave a small nod. "You belong to me."
Without waiting for a reply, she moved her mouth down to latch around the girl's pert mounds. She twirled her tongue hungrily around the pale pink buds, savouring each groan that echoed from above.
"Yours," gasped Nero. "Always yours. Please—ahhh!—please keep going...!"
The plea dumped oil on the fire already raging in Boudica's veins. She redoubled her assault on the girl's breasts as one hand slid down her shivering body. When her fingers edged along Nero's bare slit, they came away wet. She brought them up to her lips to taste. Salty, with just a tang of sweetness.
Nero moaned breathlessly, and Boudica promised herself she would draw out countless more like it. The press of her tongue around her lover's mounds were joined by a gentle scraping of teeth that made the other writhe underneath her. She grinned around her mouthful as her hand descended again. This time, she did not hesitate to push her fingers inside Nero's entrance.
Nero's hips jerked as she stroked at her inner walls, varying her rhythm to the tune of the girl's cries and trembles. Her thumb again found its place against the swollen bud nestled at the top of the folds, and Nero's pleas took on a ragged edge.
Almost as ragged as the desperate need building in Boudica's own core. She reluctantly released the girl's peaks so she could move back to capture Nero's thigh between her own. Her hips rocked forcefully against the smooth flesh, seeking her own satisfaction. She added another finger to the one already working inside her lover, relishing each gasp and moan.
Boudica's own breathing grew erratic as the sensations overwhelmed her. As much as the joy of joining flesh, she was filled with the ecstasy of their connection. The pleasure was forging a bond between herself and the writhing girl, pouring warmth into them both.
With all the fire blazing between them, she didn't have to wait for long. Nero crested first, one final cry before she fell shuddering and panting in Boudica's grasp. The aftershocks running through her lover's frame made her thighs jerk enough to send the Celt over the edge herself. Molten pleasure swept through her, searing her vision white-hot as she collapsed back onto the sheets.
Boudica found herself staring into that purple canopy she had so derided as she struggled to catch her breath. Where before it had shrouded her in Rome's excesses, now its silk softness made her think of warm lips and shuddering sighs.
When she thought she could breathe again, she sat up and looked down at the girl. With her tangled tresses and twitching mouth, Nero was a mess—but a beautiful one. All the more so because Boudica herself had made her look that way. With a sigh of satisfaction, she let herself settle down alongside the girl, letting her fingers play through the disheveled blonde mane.
At her touch, the girl tilted her head up, and once more their gazes met. Boudica froze at the blatant adoration in those jade eyes. Nero's mouth worked open and shut a few times before she apparently gave up in favour of snuggling up to Boudica. She wrapped her arms eagerly around the Celt's waist and nuzzled her face in the crook of her neck, murmuring happily.
Oh no, no no no. Boudica physically winced. What did I just get myself into?
The soft little snores coming from the blonde were not a satisfying answer.
The mead burnt as it slid down her throat, but it didn't wash away the memory or the desire. It had been half a day and she still couldn't drown out the vision of pink lips and trembling thighs. It had already been difficult enough to extract herself without waking Nero, she didn't need the woman plaguing her every waking moment.
"Damn it!" She slammed the cup onto the table and ruefully considered the bottles overflowing her recycling bin. At times at this, she bitterly resented the spiritual nature of their bodies, which disarmed alcohol as quickly as it hit her lips. "What am I going to do?"
What can I possibly say when I see her again? She massaged her aching temples, taking another swig from the bottle. Maybe if I pretend nothing happened, she'll have the decency to do the same—
As if her thoughts were a catalyst for an impromptu summoning, the door crumpled from an overwhelming force. She stared in shock as a figure clad in white strode through. All coherent thought slipped away as her eyes roamed over an outfit that resembled a wedding dress designed to drive one's mate wild. The flowing translucent train accentuated the white corset, provocatively equipped with a zipper running from her generous breasts to the silver buckle that hid her womanhood. She took in creamy thighs that still bore the faint marks of her teeth and nails, before she finally managed to snap her gaze up to meet jade eyes once more.
There was a knowing gleam in them, and the smirk could not be more smug.
"Umu! I've come for you, my husband!" Nero declared.
Boudica spat all over the table.
This was a collaboration between myself and TungstenCat, and though she did most of the work, she gave me the pleasure of publishing it as I was the one who spitefully came up with the idea from the Garden of Sinners event. Here is what she has to say:
"Septem glides over the bad blood between these characters, and Garden of Sinners infuriatingly teased at it. I feel we brought it to its natural conclusion... or at least, the only conclusion I could reach, as I am shipping trash."
Please ignore her self-deprecation, as she painstakingly prompted every line when I failed to find the right words. I am eternally thankful to her. I would also like to thank Exstarsis and Kat-2V for looking over and editing the story when they had the time.
Your ending theme is Crawl Outta Love by Illenium, remixed by The Glitch Mob.
As always, thanks for reading.