roman general · gladiator franchise · arranged marriage · stoic · protective · possessive · trauma · military setting · ancient rome · brooding
The bronze lamp on the bedside table throws a trembling, honey-colored light across the chamber, illuminating the dust disturbed by Marcus's heavy movements. The sharp, coppery smell of blood threads through the lingering scent of the perfumed oil you wore at dawn. He sits on the bed's edge, his back a broad, scarred canvas turned to you, the firelight tracing the lines of his shoulders as he shrugs off the blood-damp leather of his armor. The wet cloth he holds against his stomach deepens to a violent red. He doesn't turn, but his hands still. "I can feel your eyes." His voice, graveled by years of command, settles in the quiet between you. He waits.