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sevenswellsTitle: The Aesthete
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sevenswells
Beta:kamexkame
Rating: Um. NC -17 *blush*
Fandom/Pairing: HBO's Rome, MaecenasXSimon Woods. O rly.
Warnings: No spoilers at all, no need to have watched the series to understand what's going on. All there is to know is that it concerns
cutie here
and cutie there 
(credits for these icons go to greeniefru )
Big ol' PWP, baby.
What else? Yaoi, not safe for work. Also, behold one of my major kinks: foot fetish!
Word count: 2376 w.
Comments: Dedicated tokamexkame who likes blondies, and to mattiezumi who prefers brunettes. <3
Author:
sevenswells Beta:
kamexkame Rating: Um. NC -17 *blush*
Fandom/Pairing: HBO's Rome, MaecenasXSimon Woods. O rly.
Warnings: No spoilers at all, no need to have watched the series to understand what's going on. All there is to know is that it concerns
cutie here
and cutie there (credits for these icons go to greeniefru )Big ol' PWP, baby.
What else? Yaoi, not safe for work. Also, behold one of my major kinks: foot fetish!
Word count: 2376 w.
Comments: Dedicated to
kamexkame who likes blondies, and to mattiezumi who prefers brunettes. <3Octavian never wanted to go to orgies with him.
Go figure.
Maybe it had something to do with Octavian being this stuck-up omnipotent leader of Rome, actually, not to mention his psycho whore of a mother who probably did a pretty good job of digusting him about everything related to sex and fun. Thus, Maecenas knew better than to insist. These days, Octavian enjoined him to be more "discreet" about his "nocturnal activities". Maecenas scoffed as he parted from his toga and let it fall carelessly on the tiled floor.
A pity, really.
He would have loved to see how Octavian would behave, all rigid and perfect as he was, amongst the sinuous, beastly copulating bodies. He was also curious as to what kind of expression Octavian wore when he orgasmed. Were his arrogant cheekbones flushed? Did his lips part with the panting, wet and red; did a long, or, a short moan escape from them? Or was it -- the thought was amusing -- little whines, high-pitched, female?
He crossed the atrium and went to lie on one of the persian couches arranged all along the peristyle, in the garden. On summer nights like these, he didn't want to do much at orgies, it was too hot. On summer nights like these, he preferred to watch : sweat glistening on the heated up skins in communion, twin brothers making out, masturbating each other, one bizarre spider made of naked legs entwined, and a tall Nubian slave wearing the horse mask of a forgotten god, rubbing his sex against the odorous hair of a matron.
But this moving picture burned inside his memory, beautiful and precious as it was, just like many others, missed this young god with golden hair, taking, being taken, covered with semen -- glorifying instead of dirtying him. A constellation in the making.
As if moving by its own volition, his hand grazed his crotch. Maybe he was a little drunk; he felt good, though, light-headed, in the stillness of his sleeping domus, with a starry sky above his head. Maecenas smiled.
So. What would it be? Angry master and slave boy?
Oh, please. How common.
He stroked himself through the linen fabric of his tunic. Slowly.
Plain old Octavian would do just fine.
He would play his own part, too.
Octavian discovering somehow the fantasies his oldest and dearest friend had about him. (The "how" was a bit vague at this point, some kind of magical intuition maybe, or a slip of the tongue, whatever).
Maecenas... I'm disappointed in you.
Yes. That was right. The contempt in his voice. He stroked harder.
Depravity... You behave like an animal... an animal...
Yes. Yes. Like that. He could see his eyes very clearly.
Just as he was about to lift his tunic and grab his erect cock, he perceived a faint gasp from across the garden.
He rose briskly from his position, furious at the interruption.
-Who's there? Show yourself!
Nothing moved.
-I said, show yourself, or I'll call my men!
-Please, don't, Domine!
A trembling young man emerged from the darkness of the peristyle. One of his slaves. Maecenas let out a sigh of relief mingled with irritation.
-What were you doing?
The slave took a few hesitants steps forward.
-I'm sorry, I... I forgot to feed the d-dogs, Domine, he stuttered. They b-bark, at night, if they're hungry, and they w-wake you up. I'm sorry. I just... I didn't want...
-Come here.
His trembling ceased: all of a sudden, the slave looked like he was turned into stone.
-Don't make me repeat myself ever again, dog keeper! Your punishment won't take place before tomorrow. Until then, come here, it's an order.
The moment he came nearer, revealed by moonlight, it was Maecenas' turn to be petrified. Then he remembered.
-Ah. Yes. What was your name again?
The slave fell on his knees.
-Simon, Domine.
-What kind of name is that? Hebrew, is it?
-Yes, Domine.
-You don't look like a Jew. You hair is fair.
-I don't know where my parents came from, Domine, I never knew them. Simon is the name that my seller gave me.
The Greek merchant. Maecenas remembered him as well. The price had been ridiculously high for an unread slave destined to be a whore, but Maecenas had paid it anyway, because the merchant had known he'd been interested; timeo Danaos -- no kidding, tell him about that.
He had thought the resemblance striking at the time, but maybe it had just been an illusion from Appollo, because when he had brought him home with him afterwards, he couldn't have told why on earth he had spent so much money on that particular slave in the first place. So, instead of using him for his carnal pleasure, he had entrusted the boy to the eunuch in charge of the servants and had forgotten about his existence.
Now he could see it again, and it was Diana, Appollo's very sister, who was performing the illusion again. True, the hair colour wasn't the same, this one was fairer, whereas the other's had a reddish, coppery tinge; the eyes weren't quite the same either, but one couldn't possibly compare the eyes of a sparrow to those of an eagle. Still, those aristocratic, scultpted traits were quite uncommon on a slave's face.
-Simon. I want you to wash my feet.
Simon opened his mouth, but when he saw Maecenas' raised eyebrow, he quickly grasped that he had a better chance at not getting whipped by Memmius first thing tomorrow morning if he just shut it.
When he came back with the copper basin full of water, trying to balance a platter of ointments and towels in his other hand, he saw his master playing listlessly with a peacock feather he had taken from a marble vase near the couch. Simon put the objects he was carrying on the grass, then he kneeled again and started to undo the intricate web of laces of his master's caligae, but he heard:
-That won't do.
He pushed the caliga he was in the middle of taking off back on its foot.
-No, not that, simpleton. I mean, you can take them off. How would you wash my feet if you don't? The problem is your clothes. They're ragged.
-But it is the servant's tunic, Dom...
-I don't care. Take it off.
Simon didn't pause and obeyed right away, getting up and taking his clothes off in one swift motion, because he knew by now that his master didn't want his orders discussed. He still blushed, though, when Maecenas' lascivious stare halted on the lower part of his body, and when he smiled appreciatively.
-Jove! To think that, all this time, I've been oblivious to the fact that there was a young Bacchus under my roof...
With the peacock feather brushing over his manhood, Simon tried his best to stand very still and not to cringe. Even when Maecenas used the shaft of the feather as a lever to lift his limp penis slightly up, he didn't let out the whimper that was threatening to escape.
-Oh! The feather broke, Maecenas said a few seconds later, amused.
He threw it away in the plants with a snicker, then he lowered his eyes, looking with insistance at his feet from which the caligae were still hanging, half undone. Simon quickly kneeled to remove them and proceeded to execute the task that had been bestowed upon him, clumsily, because he had never done that before, washing his master's feet -- that was the job of the higher-ranked servants. He was just a help in the kitchen, and he took care of the dogs. He could never have dreamt of such interaction with his master. Nevermind the latter talking to him directly:
-Has a man had you before?
He gulped and shook his head. All of a sudden, he felt completely absorbed with drying his master's feet.
-Really? Not a previous master? Not even one of the other servants?
He shook his head again, in vehement protest.
-You're the only master I've ever served, Domine.
He uncapped the phial of almond oil and started the massage.
-So you're a virgin?
He nodded. His master sighed, sounding disappointed.
-How awful. Virgins are such a bore.
-I apologize, Domine.
Maecenas extended his right foot forward, slick with oil, as Simon was massaging the left, and rubbed the young man's balls with agile toes. Simon froze.
-What's wrong? You don't like it?
The slave bit his lower lip, not answering. Maecenas nudged playfully at one testicle after the other with his big toe.
-It's alright, you can say if you hate it. You won't be punished.
He lowered his head, breathing deeply, said nothing. Maecenas caught the shaft between two toes and let it slide, to and fro; he felt it hardening under the caress.
-Simon.
The slave lifted his head up, showing his beautiful expression, torn between fear and lust.
-If you have something to say, say it.
-Wh... What are you doing, Domine?
-Say it again, and call me by my name, he said under a troubled breath. Call me 'Maecenas'. With a lower voice.
He pressed the fleshy pads under his toes against Simon's testicles.
-What are you doing, Maecenas?
Startled, he withdrew his foot by reflex. Simon started to panic:
-I... I'm sorry, I, I thought you said...
Maecenas realized he'd been holding his breath the moment he let it out.
-It's alright. It doesn't matter.
He undressed, thinking, Let's get this over with, and stood up, naked in front of the slave.
-Take me in your mouth, he ordered.
Simon looked up at his master's face. Then he licked tentatively at the half-hard sex in front of him, once, twice, then he used is hands to straighten it smoothly past through his lips.
It was true that Maecenas didn't like to do virgins; he was, after all, a busy man, and experienced partners saved some time. He found no pride at deflowering clumsy idiots, didn't find "endearing" their lack of sensuality. He didn't want to be the "first": he didn't care. But when he found his cock surrounded by wetness and warmth in Simon's mouth, careful and tender despite the fear that made his hands tremble, when Simon angled his head and took more of him in, deep-throating him in an attempt to please him, his heart was embraced by an unknown emotion. He was... touched. Unnerved. He ran his fingers through the fair locks of the slave's head, which was trying to set a steady rythm. So very fair...
Suddenly, he changed his mind: he didn't want to come in his mouth anymore.
-Enough.
Simon opened his clear blue eyes on him, the very image of innocence, if it wasn't for Maecenas' cock still at the entry of his mouth, the tip of it slightly pressing the young man's full lower lip downwards.
-Turn around; get down on your hands and knees.
He seized the phial of almond oil on the platter to pour some on his hands, watching Simon shakily taking position. When he approached and kneeled in front of the smooth butt cheeks to part them, Simon's whole body jolted. Maecenas paused. Then sighed, defeated:
-Oh, Jove. I guess it can't be helped.
And he pushed Simon's hip to make him lose balance and fall over, flat on his back, on the grass, whilst he prepared himself, reaching behind himself with oiled fingers. With his free hand, he grabbed Simon's cock and rubbed the rest of the oil on it.
Maecenas swore as he impaled himself on him without further ado:
-Ah. I should've taken more, time, he added, panting, trying to contain the pain. It's been a longer while, than I thought. And... ah, you're bigger, than Agrippa.
-Domine, I'm sor...
-Shut it. You're ruining the atmosphere. Kiss me, if you want to help.
Their lips joined violently, and Simon felt his master's tongue stroking his fiercely while his body loosened progressively around his cock and slid bit by bit, finally taking him up to the hilt.
Maecenas took his time to suck and nibble at Simon's lower lip, enjoying every second of it and gradually forgetting about the pain, before he started to move and remembered all the good sensations of this. It had never been this fun with Agrippa, but then again, Agrippa never did much and used to whine endlessly as soon as it was over and that his pleasure had been taken. Simon, he, picked up the pace like Maecenas liked it, answering the roll of his hips by matching thrusts. The pleasure obviously made him forget himself, because when Maecenas couldn't take it anymore and wanted to touch himself so he could come quickly, Simon slapped his hand away, then he fisted the hair at the back of his head and yanked and thrust harder in him. He came before his master, too: Maecenas felt his semen spurting inside as his own orgasm hit him and made him cry out loud. After he was blinded for a moment, he finally collapsed on the slave's heaving chest, smiling.
This moment. He loved it.
But his throat immediately constricted when he blinked and recognized the first cruel rays of rising dawn, that bitch that only a Greek poet could say that she was rosy-fingered. Dirty and vulgar, that was how her fingers were. He couldn't look at Simon now. He knew Diana's spell would be broken and the slave wouldn't bear Octavian's resemblance anymore. He probably couldn't take it.
However...
However, he still felt his lover's cock inside him, he felt his heavy breathing under him, his heart pounding in his chest, his hand drowsily caressing the light hair on his nape, and there was beauty in that. Yet another newfound and overflowing emotion suddenly seized him.
Gratitude.
Maecenas rose and looked, for the first time, at Simon's face.
Go figure.
Maybe it had something to do with Octavian being this stuck-up omnipotent leader of Rome, actually, not to mention his psycho whore of a mother who probably did a pretty good job of digusting him about everything related to sex and fun. Thus, Maecenas knew better than to insist. These days, Octavian enjoined him to be more "discreet" about his "nocturnal activities". Maecenas scoffed as he parted from his toga and let it fall carelessly on the tiled floor.
A pity, really.
He would have loved to see how Octavian would behave, all rigid and perfect as he was, amongst the sinuous, beastly copulating bodies. He was also curious as to what kind of expression Octavian wore when he orgasmed. Were his arrogant cheekbones flushed? Did his lips part with the panting, wet and red; did a long, or, a short moan escape from them? Or was it -- the thought was amusing -- little whines, high-pitched, female?
He crossed the atrium and went to lie on one of the persian couches arranged all along the peristyle, in the garden. On summer nights like these, he didn't want to do much at orgies, it was too hot. On summer nights like these, he preferred to watch : sweat glistening on the heated up skins in communion, twin brothers making out, masturbating each other, one bizarre spider made of naked legs entwined, and a tall Nubian slave wearing the horse mask of a forgotten god, rubbing his sex against the odorous hair of a matron.
But this moving picture burned inside his memory, beautiful and precious as it was, just like many others, missed this young god with golden hair, taking, being taken, covered with semen -- glorifying instead of dirtying him. A constellation in the making.
As if moving by its own volition, his hand grazed his crotch. Maybe he was a little drunk; he felt good, though, light-headed, in the stillness of his sleeping domus, with a starry sky above his head. Maecenas smiled.
So. What would it be? Angry master and slave boy?
Oh, please. How common.
He stroked himself through the linen fabric of his tunic. Slowly.
Plain old Octavian would do just fine.
He would play his own part, too.
Octavian discovering somehow the fantasies his oldest and dearest friend had about him. (The "how" was a bit vague at this point, some kind of magical intuition maybe, or a slip of the tongue, whatever).
Maecenas... I'm disappointed in you.
Yes. That was right. The contempt in his voice. He stroked harder.
Depravity... You behave like an animal... an animal...
Yes. Yes. Like that. He could see his eyes very clearly.
Just as he was about to lift his tunic and grab his erect cock, he perceived a faint gasp from across the garden.
He rose briskly from his position, furious at the interruption.
-Who's there? Show yourself!
Nothing moved.
-I said, show yourself, or I'll call my men!
-Please, don't, Domine!
A trembling young man emerged from the darkness of the peristyle. One of his slaves. Maecenas let out a sigh of relief mingled with irritation.
-What were you doing?
The slave took a few hesitants steps forward.
-I'm sorry, I... I forgot to feed the d-dogs, Domine, he stuttered. They b-bark, at night, if they're hungry, and they w-wake you up. I'm sorry. I just... I didn't want...
-Come here.
His trembling ceased: all of a sudden, the slave looked like he was turned into stone.
-Don't make me repeat myself ever again, dog keeper! Your punishment won't take place before tomorrow. Until then, come here, it's an order.
The moment he came nearer, revealed by moonlight, it was Maecenas' turn to be petrified. Then he remembered.
-Ah. Yes. What was your name again?
The slave fell on his knees.
-Simon, Domine.
-What kind of name is that? Hebrew, is it?
-Yes, Domine.
-You don't look like a Jew. You hair is fair.
-I don't know where my parents came from, Domine, I never knew them. Simon is the name that my seller gave me.
The Greek merchant. Maecenas remembered him as well. The price had been ridiculously high for an unread slave destined to be a whore, but Maecenas had paid it anyway, because the merchant had known he'd been interested; timeo Danaos -- no kidding, tell him about that.
He had thought the resemblance striking at the time, but maybe it had just been an illusion from Appollo, because when he had brought him home with him afterwards, he couldn't have told why on earth he had spent so much money on that particular slave in the first place. So, instead of using him for his carnal pleasure, he had entrusted the boy to the eunuch in charge of the servants and had forgotten about his existence.
Now he could see it again, and it was Diana, Appollo's very sister, who was performing the illusion again. True, the hair colour wasn't the same, this one was fairer, whereas the other's had a reddish, coppery tinge; the eyes weren't quite the same either, but one couldn't possibly compare the eyes of a sparrow to those of an eagle. Still, those aristocratic, scultpted traits were quite uncommon on a slave's face.
-Simon. I want you to wash my feet.
Simon opened his mouth, but when he saw Maecenas' raised eyebrow, he quickly grasped that he had a better chance at not getting whipped by Memmius first thing tomorrow morning if he just shut it.
When he came back with the copper basin full of water, trying to balance a platter of ointments and towels in his other hand, he saw his master playing listlessly with a peacock feather he had taken from a marble vase near the couch. Simon put the objects he was carrying on the grass, then he kneeled again and started to undo the intricate web of laces of his master's caligae, but he heard:
-That won't do.
He pushed the caliga he was in the middle of taking off back on its foot.
-No, not that, simpleton. I mean, you can take them off. How would you wash my feet if you don't? The problem is your clothes. They're ragged.
-But it is the servant's tunic, Dom...
-I don't care. Take it off.
Simon didn't pause and obeyed right away, getting up and taking his clothes off in one swift motion, because he knew by now that his master didn't want his orders discussed. He still blushed, though, when Maecenas' lascivious stare halted on the lower part of his body, and when he smiled appreciatively.
-Jove! To think that, all this time, I've been oblivious to the fact that there was a young Bacchus under my roof...
With the peacock feather brushing over his manhood, Simon tried his best to stand very still and not to cringe. Even when Maecenas used the shaft of the feather as a lever to lift his limp penis slightly up, he didn't let out the whimper that was threatening to escape.
-Oh! The feather broke, Maecenas said a few seconds later, amused.
He threw it away in the plants with a snicker, then he lowered his eyes, looking with insistance at his feet from which the caligae were still hanging, half undone. Simon quickly kneeled to remove them and proceeded to execute the task that had been bestowed upon him, clumsily, because he had never done that before, washing his master's feet -- that was the job of the higher-ranked servants. He was just a help in the kitchen, and he took care of the dogs. He could never have dreamt of such interaction with his master. Nevermind the latter talking to him directly:
-Has a man had you before?
He gulped and shook his head. All of a sudden, he felt completely absorbed with drying his master's feet.
-Really? Not a previous master? Not even one of the other servants?
He shook his head again, in vehement protest.
-You're the only master I've ever served, Domine.
He uncapped the phial of almond oil and started the massage.
-So you're a virgin?
He nodded. His master sighed, sounding disappointed.
-How awful. Virgins are such a bore.
-I apologize, Domine.
Maecenas extended his right foot forward, slick with oil, as Simon was massaging the left, and rubbed the young man's balls with agile toes. Simon froze.
-What's wrong? You don't like it?
The slave bit his lower lip, not answering. Maecenas nudged playfully at one testicle after the other with his big toe.
-It's alright, you can say if you hate it. You won't be punished.
He lowered his head, breathing deeply, said nothing. Maecenas caught the shaft between two toes and let it slide, to and fro; he felt it hardening under the caress.
-Simon.
The slave lifted his head up, showing his beautiful expression, torn between fear and lust.
-If you have something to say, say it.
-Wh... What are you doing, Domine?
-Say it again, and call me by my name, he said under a troubled breath. Call me 'Maecenas'. With a lower voice.
He pressed the fleshy pads under his toes against Simon's testicles.
-What are you doing, Maecenas?
Startled, he withdrew his foot by reflex. Simon started to panic:
-I... I'm sorry, I, I thought you said...
Maecenas realized he'd been holding his breath the moment he let it out.
-It's alright. It doesn't matter.
He undressed, thinking, Let's get this over with, and stood up, naked in front of the slave.
-Take me in your mouth, he ordered.
Simon looked up at his master's face. Then he licked tentatively at the half-hard sex in front of him, once, twice, then he used is hands to straighten it smoothly past through his lips.
It was true that Maecenas didn't like to do virgins; he was, after all, a busy man, and experienced partners saved some time. He found no pride at deflowering clumsy idiots, didn't find "endearing" their lack of sensuality. He didn't want to be the "first": he didn't care. But when he found his cock surrounded by wetness and warmth in Simon's mouth, careful and tender despite the fear that made his hands tremble, when Simon angled his head and took more of him in, deep-throating him in an attempt to please him, his heart was embraced by an unknown emotion. He was... touched. Unnerved. He ran his fingers through the fair locks of the slave's head, which was trying to set a steady rythm. So very fair...
Suddenly, he changed his mind: he didn't want to come in his mouth anymore.
-Enough.
Simon opened his clear blue eyes on him, the very image of innocence, if it wasn't for Maecenas' cock still at the entry of his mouth, the tip of it slightly pressing the young man's full lower lip downwards.
-Turn around; get down on your hands and knees.
He seized the phial of almond oil on the platter to pour some on his hands, watching Simon shakily taking position. When he approached and kneeled in front of the smooth butt cheeks to part them, Simon's whole body jolted. Maecenas paused. Then sighed, defeated:
-Oh, Jove. I guess it can't be helped.
And he pushed Simon's hip to make him lose balance and fall over, flat on his back, on the grass, whilst he prepared himself, reaching behind himself with oiled fingers. With his free hand, he grabbed Simon's cock and rubbed the rest of the oil on it.
Maecenas swore as he impaled himself on him without further ado:
-Ah. I should've taken more, time, he added, panting, trying to contain the pain. It's been a longer while, than I thought. And... ah, you're bigger, than Agrippa.
-Domine, I'm sor...
-Shut it. You're ruining the atmosphere. Kiss me, if you want to help.
Their lips joined violently, and Simon felt his master's tongue stroking his fiercely while his body loosened progressively around his cock and slid bit by bit, finally taking him up to the hilt.
Maecenas took his time to suck and nibble at Simon's lower lip, enjoying every second of it and gradually forgetting about the pain, before he started to move and remembered all the good sensations of this. It had never been this fun with Agrippa, but then again, Agrippa never did much and used to whine endlessly as soon as it was over and that his pleasure had been taken. Simon, he, picked up the pace like Maecenas liked it, answering the roll of his hips by matching thrusts. The pleasure obviously made him forget himself, because when Maecenas couldn't take it anymore and wanted to touch himself so he could come quickly, Simon slapped his hand away, then he fisted the hair at the back of his head and yanked and thrust harder in him. He came before his master, too: Maecenas felt his semen spurting inside as his own orgasm hit him and made him cry out loud. After he was blinded for a moment, he finally collapsed on the slave's heaving chest, smiling.
This moment. He loved it.
But his throat immediately constricted when he blinked and recognized the first cruel rays of rising dawn, that bitch that only a Greek poet could say that she was rosy-fingered. Dirty and vulgar, that was how her fingers were. He couldn't look at Simon now. He knew Diana's spell would be broken and the slave wouldn't bear Octavian's resemblance anymore. He probably couldn't take it.
However...
However, he still felt his lover's cock inside him, he felt his heavy breathing under him, his heart pounding in his chest, his hand drowsily caressing the light hair on his nape, and there was beauty in that. Yet another newfound and overflowing emotion suddenly seized him.
Gratitude.
Maecenas rose and looked, for the first time, at Simon's face.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-04-22 11:57 am (UTC)I say YES to new fandoms and new hot cuties with blue eyes (SIMON IS HOT HOT HOT)
very nice and they lived happily ever after ne? XDDDDDDD
no subject
Date: 2008-04-22 12:04 pm (UTC)En.Joy. Muahahaha! (careful, though, it's totally not safe for work, and be sure that no little children are around you as you watch this, it's a Simon Woods sex scene ^^)
no subject
Date: 2008-04-22 03:10 pm (UTC)nise butt
NICE EVERYTHING
the only pity -it's het sex(((they could have added some boytoboy sex scenes really, it was quite a common thing in Rome or Greece WHATEVAR
they should have used your fic as a script! ;)i would be quite happy to see it all in FLESH XDDDDDDD
no subject
Date: 2008-04-22 07:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 06:41 am (UTC)this was so delicious! and maecenus' character was totally unexpected! i've never seen the show, and in just seeing him for some reason gave me the impression that he was more reserved!
that, and i kept seeing him whimpering and panting UNDER some big man *drools*i had no idea that he would be capable of being so uninhibited! a pleasant surprise! i LOVED it!*flail* this fic made me think such dirty thoughts!
-Jove! To think that, all this time, I've been oblivious to the fact that there was a young Bacchus under my roof...
*pictures it* ...REALLY dirty thoughts... *massive nosebleed/drooling*
and you totally ROCKED it in every instance! i loved how you described octavian! classic reluctant, aloof seme syndrome, YUM! oh, he'll turn criminal soon enough once he gets a taste of the pleasures maecenus has to offer! satisfaction guaranteed! *nods knowingly*
Agrippa never did much and used to whine endlessly as soon as it was over and that his pleasure had been taken.
who is this 'agrippa' character and WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM?!?!? does he not realize that he is being graced with the presence of adonis himself?!?? *flails some more*
This moment. He loved it.
yes, maecenus, this is the feeling of being completely OWNED. *licks lips* worship it. revel in it. then come back for MORE!!! *rawr*
i simply ADORED the way simon was transformed from slave to lover, SO ROMANTIC! (because CLEARLY random sex equals love and love equals much potential for future naughty sex RIGHT THERE IN THE OPEN!!!
maybe next time octavian will catch them at it and join in! *mind boggled at the thought of a simon woods sandwich with VERY lucky little brunette in the middle*)and i totally creeped your comment and watched octvian's sex scene and DAMN! are men even allowed to be that HOT?!?! *tries to clean up puddle of drool* his face looks like it was carved out of marble! i think i watched and re-watched the part were he's catching his breath on the bed all sweaty and abs contracting like 8 billion times! *fans self*
clearly you've MADE ME THE BIGGEST PERVERT IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!
and now i'm torn between wanting to watch the series because of the hot man potential, but i think seeing both octavian and maecenas in the same frame and then having to watch them NOT go at it like bunnies is going to KILL me!
no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 12:57 pm (UTC)(your icon associated to your comment kinda breaks my brain though, it feels like Atia came to congratulate me on a fic I wrote about her son XD Well we all know Atia is a yaoist anyway XDDDD)
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Date: 2008-04-23 01:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 01:38 pm (UTC)i've never seen the show, and in just seeing him for some reason gave me the impression that he was more reserved!
Well, in a way, he is; the historical Maecenas was intelligent and refined but in the show he also goes regularly to orgies, and he brings Agrippa with him (Agrippa is the guy in the first link about Rome in my previous post, the "family dinner" scene: he's the guy who sleeps with Octavian's sister and looks like a big teddy bear). I remember him taking a puff of opium smoke and saying, as Agrippa tells him that he doesn't see the point in orgies, "Oh but wait... it gets sooooo much better..." with langourous eyes... this fic is inspired from that scene I guess <3 Maecenas to me is the "bully uke" type and I lurve bully ukes, kekekekeke XD
and i totally creeped your comment and watched octvian's sex scene
Oh but you did well, I meant to send you the link anyway, I knew a connoisseur like you could appreciate it ^^
his face looks like it was carved out of marble! i think i watched and re-watched the part were he's catching his breath on the bed all sweaty and abs contracting like 8 billion times!
Oh yes. Ooooooh yes. Favourite part too, because you see his whole body and his wunderbar chest and OMG Octavian likes to be strangled, which means that, that scene where Marc Anthony strangles him, he was most definitely sporting the boner of the year: KYAH!!!
and now i'm torn between wanting to watch the series because of the hot man potential, but i think seeing both octavian and maecenas in the same frame and then having to watch them NOT go at it like bunnies is going to KILL me!
Oh come on, we're yaoists my dear, which means we're insincere, which means that every fade-to-black transitions equal SEX!!! (that is, when you fill in the blanks the yaoist way)
So you must watch the show dear, it's really good anyway, and Simon Woods is the most perfect
semeOctavian evaaaarrrr. (which shows how awesome an actor he is, because IRL, he looks... über uke!)no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 06:34 pm (UTC)"Have you penetrated anyone yet?"
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Date: 2008-04-24 06:30 am (UTC)so, i totally went back to that clip to see just who agrippa is, you're right he does look like a teddy bear! but then i got distracted when maecenas' face got flashed onto the screen; no wonder i didn't notice agrippa, what (in)sane, normal, superficial girl could, with all that hot man-meat on display! like the auto-erotic asphyxiation taking place (boner indeed! and if his clothes weren't so loose i bet we would be able to see it too!) and the presence of maecenas! who, by the way i've decided i have a little crush on!
Maecenas to me is the "bully uke" type and I lurve bully ukes
me too! me too! *heart* what an interesting character! responsible, upstanding citizen by day, wanton, raging slut by night! LOVE!!!
wait, scratch that, i have an MEGA crush on him!
*loves on you for writing such yummy smex and introducing me to such a yummy figure*
and i suppose you're right, what the hell kind of yaoist do i claim to be if i can't even orchestrate my own behind the scenes male bonding?!? i'll find a way to make do, these men are WAY to fine to not be undressed by my eyes on a regular basis!
by the way, i love how you called me a connoisseur, it sound so much more elegant than BIG CREEPY PERVERT! :DDDDDDD