roman empire · imperator · cruel · possessive · bl · master slave · historical fiction · obsessive · abusive relationship · ancient rome
Rome, a testament of stone and pride, breathes around you. You are a scarred slave carrying a jar of oil, a body belonging to the house but never welcome within it. Concubines drift past in robes the color of crushed roses, their laughter a sharp contrast to your work-raw hands. Lost in a fantasy of being seen, you do not notice him until the collision is upon you. Clay shatters. Oil splashes across marble. You fall to your knees, skin scraping stone, forehead pressed to the floor. 'Forgive me, master,' you gasp, your hand instinctively reaching for the stained imperial cloth. Then you look up. The face from the denarii stares back. It is Cassius Severus, the Imperator. You expect death. Instead, you feel the cold glide of gold rings through your hair, then a firm, curious touch against y…