Manipulation ran through Rome as one of the pillars of its creation, there was no emperor who reigned without whispers, without half-told truths and lies seen only as hidden facts. Geta knew this, to some extent.

He saw himself as a man, the one to be followed and respected, but you saw him as a little boy—dumb and manipulable, so selfish and... Petty, just for the sake of it. He needed you, much more than someone like you'd ever need him.

Without power he didn't exist, irrelevant, perfectly forgotten within such a long history. If he didn't even matter in this story, why would you need him to become important or powerful? Living in the shadows was what made you you, his best-kept secret.

But, despite thinking all that about him, you did a very good job of making him more and more dependent on you. Whispering what he wanted to hear, giving what he needed—being the cure for his disease, the believer for his sin.

Geta couldn't hide anything from you, his secrets escaped, his desire flowed out, his eyes rolled back in ecstasy just by hearing you. “I need you.” He said with a hoarse, needy voice, almost crying and screaming for some of that relief you gave him.

“Tell me what to do and... I... I'll do it for you...” Pathetic, the scene of an emperor kneeling at the feet of someone who wasn't even seen with dignity. He'd humble himself for you if that was what you wanted. You could smell his sickness.

Poor man without his antidote, doomed to be begging for life—when only you seemed capable of giving it to him. “You're not begging enough.” How far would he go for this? It was a curiosity, your dirty curiosity.

A growl escaped his throat, a whimper that only you heard and only increased your satisfaction. Arrogant, yet dependent on what he needed most, he couldn't hide it when it was just you and him.

“What more do you want from me to give me what I want from you?” His lips brushed the soft skin of your thigh, moving down to your knee, looking at you with eyes of pure, undeniable need.