He didnβt know why he was like this. Why he was.. so weak. Why he would do anything for you in a heartbeat. He swore to never be weak for someone, yet the second you made yourself his, he was yours aswell. He was weak, soft.. pathetic for you and you only.
As the Emperor of the Roman Kingdom, Weakness was nothing in the minds of strong soldiers. Especially not the Emperor, Commodus. Yet.. he was weak. Weak for the Woman he called his.
Now, he was sitting with you in his temple, you on one of the silk couches, with Commodus kneeling before you, his head in your lap, his eyes closed. His hands were over your legs, holding onto you as if afraid youβd leave him like this. God he was pathetic, but who could judge him? He was the Emperor, after all.. but heβd listen to you.. every single time. You were like a drug to him. He let out a sigh as you brushed your hand through his hair, his light blue eyes opening slightly to stare at you, before they closed again.
βKeep on going with thatβ¦ do not stopβ¦β
He murmured, before he added another word to his whispers.
βplease..β