And I Repeat

"Mmm," Caracalla moaned as I pounded into him from behind with powerful thrusts. My brother's body was soft and yielding, and I tried to be gentle with him. But not now. Not when I'm on the edge. "I want more," he said.   I grabbed his hair and pulled him toward me, forcing him to wriggle, and with my other hand I pulled Caracalla's own arms out from under him, holding them behind his back. Our bodies made contact with each other and the slutty sounds of clapping echoed throughout the room. I had changed the amplitude and was now thrusting my brother on my cock as far as it would go, and then almost completely out of him. Not even the most corrupt slut moaned as loudly as he did. It was arousing and mind-numbing.   "Geta..." Caracalla whispered. It wasn't enough for me.   "Say it louder," I commanded, leaning in close to my brother's ear. I could hear his breathing and smell his body odor. No oil, no most expensive scent had ever had such an intoxicating effect on me.   "Please don't stop," he didn't know that I was trying to hold on longer out of sheer strength. To see him in that position; to know that he obeyed only me; to know that I was the most desirable thing in the whole world to him right now. It was worth it.   Caracalla's long moans came from his lips, and he moved his hips toward me. I could see him thrusting onto my cock with rapt attention. He was mine. Maybe not all the time; maybe not forever. But at that very moment, I could be sure that no one existed for my brother but me.   "Geta, I'm close," he whispered again, and I could barely make it out. I could barely make it out over the vulgar clapping and my own ragged breathing. I growled something back, overcome by animal instincts.   I let go of his hands and quickened my pace. Cumming at the same time was what I liked most about sex with Caracalla. For some reason, only with him. I didn't usually pay much attention to it. I stroked my brother's back, picking up the droplets of sweat that glistened in the gloom. With my free hand, I grasped his cock, stroking the sensitive head. Caracalla trembled at my touch. As he always has.   "Geta!" He shrieked, and I felt the warm liquid on my fingers. I was almost done.   "Lick it," I instructed, guiding two fingers into his mouth. Caracalla obeyed, and his warm tongue made contact with my hand.   I withdrew from Caracalla and turned him around to face me with a sharp movement, taking my fingers out of his mouth. Caracalla found himself kneeling in front of me, and I got to my feet.   "You know what to do," I said roughly, and I pressed my cock against his lips. My brother opened his mouth, swallowing the hot flesh completely. His blowjobs were always special. Maybe that's why I liked cumming, seeing his face, meeting his gaze, submitting to him.   And then came the euphoria. The whole world froze for a moment, and then I felt my lungs filling with oxygen and my heart pumping blood again. Caracalla did not shed a drop. He didn't even gag.   "I love your body," I whispered, leaning toward him, running my fingers over his face. Caracalla smiled and kissed my lips, and I could taste my own cum.   "Brother," he said with the same warm smile, looking at my face and gulping greedily for air, "When… When's the next time?" *** The evening was in full swing. Caracalla had disappeared somewhere, but I wasn't worried; right now, my head was occupied not with thoughts of jealousy, but with ideas on how to find the girl I had spoken to a week ago. I sat surrounded by concubines, drank wine, spoke with influential people, but derived no pleasure from it. Even if Macrinus had brought his gladiators, it wouldn't have solved my problem of eternal boredom and preoccupation. Speaking of Macrinus. Where was he?   Logic suggested that he was whispering with his brother. I knew that I was neither a great warrior nor a renowned sage. I was poor with a sword and didn't know how to weave intrigues. My only trump card was my privileged position. But I couldn't compete with Macrinus in cunning; I was losing. There was a lot I couldn't do.   I pushed the concubines away from me, interrupted the social conversation, and headed into the depths of the palace – searching for at least one of those two. As soon as I stood up, the intoxication made itself known.   I wandered through the palace, ignoring everyone who approached me with questions. Caracalla was nowhere to be found, nor was Macrinus, nor the beggar girl. All three had vanished into thin air. Unexpectedly, I heard a noise in the hall adjacent to my bedroom. There shouldn't have been any strangers there; they simply wouldn't have been allowed so far. I approached closer but remained standing behind the door, trying not to give myself away.   Macrinus was talking to someone. A female voice. But I couldn't recall the beggar girl's voice, no matter how hard I tried. Who was he conversing with?   "Dear, be patient. You know this is for the cause."   "Father, I can't. He hasn't done anything wrong to me."   "Have you forgotten what his brother did? Dear, Rome will fall if they remain in power. I need your help. Just do everything as we agreed. Approach him, talk, make eyes, give him a compliment. He's susceptible to flattery."   A minute was enough to understand that they were talking about me. I was confused. Should I enter? Call the guards? Scatter their guts around the city, as my brother liked to do? I had drunk too much, my thoughts were tangled, and I couldn't find the right solution.   I thought it best to pretend I knew nothing. I memorized the woman's voice from one phrase as much as my memory allowed and stepped away from the door, hiding behind a column a little further away. So, a conspiracy was being prepared, and I had to find out who was involved. If it weren't for the wine, I would have been furious, but at that moment, I looked at this problem from a different angle. Macrinus wanted to eliminate me – I had suspected this for a long time. But the woman…Surely, it was his daughter, the one people called Acacia. I had to know who she was, know her name. She could ruin everything.   I stood behind the column for a short time, almost falling a couple of times because my legs unexpectedly gave way. Macrinus came out of the hall, the girl following him. I looked closely.   The beggar girl. The mosaic in my head came together. *** I sat with the concubines again, trying not to show my anxiety. So, the beggar woman will approach me herself—I understood this from the dialogue with Macrinus. I just need to not give myself away. I need to be cunning. I didn't know how to be cunning.   Caracalla still hadn't appeared, although, as a rule, he didn't leave my side at dinner parties. However, now his absence was most welcome.   "Master," a familiar voice brought me out of my thoughts. Without looking, I could say with certainty that it was Macrinus's daughter, whose conversation I had overheard an hour ago. The girl was dressed much richer than at our first meeting, her bright red hair was gathered in a complex hairstyle. What was this masquerade for?   "Come in," I said, trying to look as indifferent as possible. I held out my hand, and the girl kissed my fingers, adorned with rings that I never took off.   "Do I look better now?" she asked, sitting down next to me.   "You look the same," I replied with feigned calmness. Despite the expensive clothes, I still didn't consider her a beauty. "Remind me, what's your name?"   "Alfrea, master," the girl looked at me without looking away. "It seems the feast is in full swing."   I mentally repeated her name several times so as not to forget it. I decided to let the girl lead the conversation to understand what she needed, but first I had to learn something about her.   "Who did you come with? You said you had a patron," I took another sip of wine from the goblet. I wondered how she would get out of this.   "Did I?" Alfrea blurted out, apparently forgetting for a second about our previous conversation. Her lie was flimsy.   "You need to drink less," I grinned. It was obvious that she had come with Macrinus, but I wasn't going to reveal my awareness. "Then your memory won't fail you."   "I drink to you and to Rome, master. I think it's impossible to overdo it in this case," the girl smiled, smoothing over the awkwardness. There was something about her, but I pushed those thoughts away.   "Why do you come here so often?" I leaned back.   "And why do you host receptions so often?" followed a question that was supposed to put me in a difficult position. I became interested in the conversation, but I tried to remember that the girl had dishonest intentions.   "I love variety, and the daily routine bores me," I replied. The feast was arranged only so that Alfrea would appear in the palace again, but she, of course, didn't need to know that.   "In that case, I can say that I come because I like spending time with you in this... variety."   The girl was clearly flirting with me, referring to our very superficial acquaintance. I decided to play along.   "Then why don't you want to stay in the palace? The servants can prepare chambers for you," I lowered my voice and ran my hand over the girl's dark face, taking advantage of my position.   "Do you really want that?" Alfrea leaned closer to me.   No.   "You could be the treasure of my bedroom," I whispered in her ear, running my hand down her back.   I noticed a shadow of displeasure on the girl's face, but this shadow instantly disappeared. Macrinus had not talked to her in vain—today Alfrea was much more playful.   "Perhaps one day I will agree to it," she smiled, not removing my hand, "but not today, master."   After these words, Alfrea fell silent. She sat next to me for a while longer, finishing the wine from her goblet, and then, apologizing, disappeared into the crowd, just like last time. I was pleased with myself—I managed to play my part in Macrinus's play as he intended, and, moreover, discover an acting talent that I didn't suspect I had. Let Macrinus think that he has everything under control, and I will not let him out of my sight. Sooner or later, he will miscalculate somewhere, and I will be ready for it. But there was something special about the girl; she wasn't like the hundreds of previous concubines who bored me as soon as they crossed the threshold of the palace.   It remained to wait for the end of the evening to tell my brother what I had learned. Perhaps, at least then, he will listen to reason. *** "You don't understand! You don't understand anything!" Caracalla shouted while I was trying to tell him about Macrinus' conspiracy. I decided to be honest and didn't mince words, except for my agreement with Acacius. Apparently, in vain. My brother completely refused to listen to me.   "It's you who doesn't understand, Caracalla. Your Macrinus wants to get rid of me, and then he'll come after you. Did you really think you found a friend?" I tried to be calm, but my patience was wearing thin. Arguments with my brother exhausted me, and most importantly, they always ended the same way.   "Enough! Stop it!" my brother persisted. "Everything is always ours, shared! And now that I have a friend, you want to ruin everything, take everything for yourself again! You always do that!" It seemed that Caracalla was starting to have a tantrum. His voice was cracking, and he was about to burst into tears.   "Caracalla, your ‘friend’ doesn't love you. The Senate doesn't love you. Your slaves don't love you. And even the people of Rome don't love you, no matter how many games you hold. Only I love you, only I care about you. And you really think that this slave owner is on your side?" While I was speaking, Caracalla walked over to the window, turning his back to me. "Look at me. Do you remember what I told you when our father died?"   Caracalla still didn't turn around. I could only see his shoulders shaking. An old trick. He always did that when he ran out of arguments. It annoyed our father, but our mother would immediately rush to comfort him. It was one of the few ways in his arsenal to attract attention to himself.   "Do you remember what I told you?" I repeated, raising my voice.   My brother turned around. His face was tear-stained and wet, as if he had just been doused with water from head to toe.   "You said that you would give yourself to me," he whispered, but that was enough. "I remember that. You said you would protect me, but you always protect only your own interests."   "I will kill anyone who touches you. I will hang, quarter, crush Macrinus like a pathetic insect if he dares to harm you. Do you understand me?" I asked. Caracalla nodded. "And he knows it. That's why he'll deal with me first, using your hands. Listen to me, listen to me carefully, Caracalla. I'm not smart enough to prevent this. I don't know what's going on in this man's head; I don't know what he's telling you. And I need to know that to protect you, to fulfill my promise. Just tell me, and it will all be over forever. "   Caracalla hesitated. I could see it in his gaze, wandering over the interior. He was afraid to look at me because I had power over him. I understood that he wouldn't tell me — he had waited too long for the moment when he would be free. And now my brother wasn't going to obey anyone. Not even me.   "I… " Caracalla began. "I found a friend. I dreamed of when I could get out of your shadow. You got everything: the Senate, mother's love, father's respect, his forgiveness, health. And now, finally, I have something you don't have,"  my brother spoke calmly, only occasionally sniffling. "And you want to take even that away. You don't think about me, and you don't love me, but your own reflection in my eyes. If I'm sick, it doesn't mean I don't see it. "   My brother finally looked up at me. His clear blue eyes met mine, and I realized that he would fight to the death, but he wouldn't let me remove Macrinus.   "Don't touch him, Geta,"  Caracalla continued. "For my sake. "   I sighed wearily and rubbed my eyes, smearing the paint on my face. I had no strength left to fight and help someone who didn't want to accept my help.   "For your sake, I want to kill him" I replied.   "He won't hurt you. He's in the palace for something else entirely, you just don't understand. If you listened to me, then…"   "He's lying! " I shouted, more out of despair than anger. Now it was my turn to cry, but I held back. "I heard his conversation with his daughter, I know how he looks at you. Why, why are you so naive?!" Overwhelmed with emotion, I instantly crossed the room, grabbed my brother by the shoulders, and started shaking him. "Why do you make everything so complicated? Just trust me, listen to me for once in your life! "   Caracalla looked at me with an absent gaze.   "You have me. What else do you need?" he said quietly, unclasping my hands from him. Tears were still rolling down his cheeks, but Caracalla was calm. No, I was talking to the Wall of Troy. In the end, I would die because of his stubbornness, I was sure of it.   We looked at each other in silence. It seemed like an eternity had passed, but in reality, I think it was a few minutes. Caracalla came close to my face, scorching me with his hot breath. He kissed me — but not as vulgarly and passionately as usual. He wanted to say something with this, but I wasn't ready to listen.   "I won't give Macrinus what he wants. If you refuse to help me, I'll handle it myself," I concluded. My brother took a deep breath, hugged me, and nuzzled his nose into my neck, slowly exhaling.   "I will never hurt you, brother," Caracalla tried to comfort me.   I hugged him back. His comfort was a lie, and we both knew it.