Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You were so fucking bored with life. 

It felt like all you did was work. Any attempt at hobbies was discarded for scrolling on your phone, mining desperately (and uselessly) for dopamine. Your therapist suggested you take a night class, to get you out of the house for an hour a week at the very least, and you conceded. The local community college had a smattering of choices, most of which seemed dreadful or headache-inducing, but when your eyes fell on a history course about the Roman Empire, you found yourself mildly intrigued. That spark of curiosity was promising. You signed up for the class.

You were almost late the first night. You got there with two minutes to spare, and the small classroom was nearly full. You took the only seat still open and offered your tablemate a shy smile, trying to be subtle as you checked him out. He was a young man, pale with flaming red hair, and he was dressed all in black which only further emphasized the starkness of his skin. He offered you a tight-lipped smile in return. He was handsome, but he had a severe air about him that you found intimidating. He didn’t have a laptop in front of him like so many of the other students. He didn’t even have a notebook or writing utensil. You weren’t sure you would have sat next to him if you had another choice, but that’s what you got for nearly being late. 

The professor had an interesting energy to her. She was clearly very passionate about the history of Rome, but the energy of the class, whether because of the time of day or perhaps because it was an entry level history course, was subpar. Your tablemate seemed a bit restless. You couldn’t tell if it was because he was bored or what, but you found him very distracting. When the professor bade you to turn and introduce yourself to each other, you did so eagerly, wanting to figure out what the fuck this guy’s deal was. 

“I’m (Y/N),” you greeted, sticking your hand out for him to shake.

“Geta,” he greeted in return, shaking your hand. You decided he had a nice voice. When Geta shook your hand, you noticed his fingers were bedecked with golden rings. You were surprised; didn’t goths— and Geta gave you very strong goth energy— usually wear silver? 

“What hair dye do you use?” you blurted. “I love the color.”

“It’s natural,” Geta answered, his smile turning amused. 

“Oh, wow! That’s awesome.” 

“Thank you.” He dipped his head in acknowledgment and leaned back in his chair. His dark eyes scanned you and he tilted his head. “Are you a history major?” asked Geta. 

“Mm, I’m not really any major?” you answered, wrinkling your nose. “I’m not… a student, per se. Just taking the class because I thought it looked interesting.”

“Huh.” Geta raised his chin, his eyebrows furrowing delicately. “I didn’t realize that was something you could do,” he said. 

You flushed, feeling a little flame of embarrassment igniting in your chest for some reason. Was he judging you? “Well. I’m doing it.”

“Huh,” he said again. He nodded. “Cool.” 

“Thanks,” you mumbled. There was a beat of awkward silence, and you broke it by asking, “Are you a history major?” 

“I am,” he confirmed with a wry smile. “Perpetually so.”

Before you could ask him what he meant by that, the professor announced that each pair of tablemates would be partners for a semester-long project. You and Geta eyed each other again, sizing one another up to gauge if the partnership would be a good one. 

The professor prompted you all to exchange contact information. Geta surprised you as he pulled a flip phone from the inside pocket of his jacket. He clicked through it before offering it to you. You took it, blinking at the open ‘new contact’ page on the screen. 

“Retro,” you murmured as you arduously added your name and number to his phone. “Interesting.” 

“I can’t stand smartphones,” he sighed as you returned the phone to him. “One of mankind’s worst inventions… right after the printing press.”

You barked out a laugh and covered your mouth as Geta’s eyes flickered up to your face. “You’re… joking, right?” you ventured.

Geta smirked. “Mostly,” he confirmed. “Would you like to work out a schedule for working on our project?”

“We should probably find out what the project is first, don’t you think?”

“Ah.” Geta smiled for real, and… oh no. He was really cute. “You may be onto something,” he agreed. 

The professor explained that the basis of the project would be to research a Roman emperor and detail the influence they had on the empire during and after their reign. When you glanced at Geta, you noticed his jaw was clenched and his eyebrows were furrowed, almost like he was in pain. What was that all about?

The professor passed back an assignment sheet with more details, and spent the rest of the hour providing an introduction to the course. It was genuinely pretty interesting, but you kept getting distracted by Geta. He had this… weird aura about him that made you nervous and excited at the same time. It was like developing a crush on someone, but worse, because he also creeped you out— but somehow that was part of his charm? 

Sitting next to Geta was making you realize things about yourself that you didn’t want to realize.

The professor ended class by assigning a reading to be done before next week, and then you were dismissed. You turned to Geta and found he was already staring at you. Your heart stuttered in your chest as your eyes met his dark brown ones. “You have really pretty eyes,” you blurted out. 

Geta smirked. “So, you like my hair and my eyes?” he mused. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were flirting with me.” 

“Oh, that’s—!”

“I’m teasing,” he interrupted to assure you. “Were you interested in getting together outside of class to work on the project?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I— yes. You, um, have my number now, so…”

“I’ll call you,” he confirmed with a little nod. You watched as Geta stood, and then he held out his hand to you. Not sure what else to do, you laid your hand in his. Geta bent down and kissed your hand, leaving you utterly astonished. “Goodnight, (Y/N),” he purred with a smile. 

“Y-Yeah, goodnight, Geta,” you stuttered. 

He threw you a wink, turned, and left the classroom. 

“What the fuck,” you murmured to yourself. You looked around to see if any of your other classmates had caught your interaction, but if anyone noticed, they didn’t care enough to react. Feeling strange, a little lonely, and (honestly) a little turned on, you left the classroom. 

Chapter Text

You weren’t surprised when the dreams started. Mostly, you were disappointed; disappointed in your subconscious, disappointed in yourself, and strangely disappointed in Geta for having the nerve to show up in your dreams to begin with. 

It was Geta’s fault, after all. He had called you the night after your second class together and asked you, in his stupid, perfect voice, if you wanted to go over to his place to start planning for your project. You said yes, like an idiot, and the date was set. The night of the phone call, you had the first dream about him.

It was innocuous enough, at first. Your brain had crafted a potential scenario in preparation for your visit to his place, complete with a large, Victorian-style, dilapidated mansion for Geta to live in. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but he seemed the type to live somewhere gorgeous, but also spooky. 

Anyway, Dream-Geta had been perfectly polite, offering you snacks and a cozy spot for you to set up your laptop and start researching. The issue arose when you tried to leave. Dream-Geta wouldn’t let you leave; worse than that, you liked that he wanted to keep you. Dream-you was thrilled to be stopped, and even more thrilled when the way he stopped you turned sexual in nature. 

You had awoken in a cold sweat, an annoying pulse of arousal rolling through your body. You had needed to masturbate twice before your body decided to relax enough to go back to sleep.

The dreams were constant after that. Every night, it was the same— you went to Geta’s house, you spent some time there, he would stop you from leaving in increasingly erotic ways. The latest involved him tying you up. It was almost enough to make you cancel your plans with him. 

…Almost.

You stared at the text on your phone screen and then looked up at the house. It was a simple one-story house, with a pale yellow facade that seemed to glow in the porch light and concrete steps up to the front door; not at all like the gothic manor of your dreams, but it was the address Geta had sent you. You took a deep breath to steel yourself and got out of the car. The night was uncharacteristically cool for the time of year, and you shivered, wishing you had brought a jacket.

When Geta had suggested you meet at night, you hadn’t thought much of it. Your class was at night, after all, and you worked long hours during the day, so meeting after the sun went down worked for you. As you climbed the steps to the front door, however, you became highly aware of the fact that you were entering a strange man’s home. At night. 

Geta opened the door before your nerves made you turn tail and run back to your car. “(Y/N),” he greeted with a smile. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Hi, Geta,” you squeaked. 

“Won’t you come in?” Geta stepped aside to allow you to brush past him, and then he shut the door behind you. He looked very handsome in a black sweater with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pair of black jeans. 

The inside of his house looked a little bit more how you imagined it. The furniture looked antique and art covered the walls. When you stopped into the living room, you weren’t surprised to see there was no television; instead, there were wall-to-wall bookshelves. You slid your shoes off at the front door and immediately padded over to peruse the shelves. Geta had quite a collection. There were tons of history texts, as you expected based on your few conversations together, but he had an extensive fiction section, too. 

You picked a title off the shelf. “ The Gladiator’s Mistress ,” you read aloud, unable to stop your growing grin. You looked up at Geta with your eyebrows raised. “Geta, is this smut ?” you gasped with scandalized delight. 

“What Geta won’t tell you is that he’s an avid erotica reader.”

You jumped about a foot in the air, dropping the novel, and whirled around to see another ginger man. Emerging from the kitchen, he was eating a red popsicle and had an expression similar to a cat who had just caught a particularly wily mouse. 

“(Y/N), this is my twin brother,” Geta sighed. “Caracalla.”

“Charmed,” Caracalla purred, moving in to offer you a handshake. 

You blinked, eyes darting from brother to brother as you processed this new information. Caracalla looked as different from Geta as he could within the restraints of their genetics. In his jean shorts and t-shirt, with wrists decorated by kandi bracelets, Caracalla was giving eclectic Y2K, as opposed to Geta’s elegant goth aesthetic. He was no less cute, however, and his attention made your tummy flutter. “Geta didn’t mention…”

“No, he wouldn’t have,” Caracalla sighed. He leaned in conspiratorially. “He’s ashamed of me.”

You smiled, already charmed by his air of whimsy and good humor. “Ashamed?” you repeated teasingly. “Of a cute thing like you?”

Caracalla grinned and took a bite out of his popsicle, letting you see he had a golden tooth. “Oh, I like this one, brother,” he said, tossing the comment back to where Geta still stood near the edge of the room. ”Can we keep her?”

“Leave us be, Caracalla,” Geta huffed. “We have things to do.”

Caracalla pouted and turned to look at you with pleading eyes. “Are you going to kick me out, too, (Y/N)?” 

You mimicked his pout without really meaning to. “I don’t see why he can’t stay, Geta,” you said. “Are you worried he’ll bother us?”

“Not worried, no,” Geta sighed, plopping onto one of the antique sofas. “I’m sure he’s going to bother us.” He ran his hand through his hair, tousling the usually neat orange waves,  and squinted up at his brother. “Don’t you have other things to do?” he asked.

Caracalla grinned. “You mentioned you were having a guest over, so I cleared my schedule,” he mused. He looked back at you as he licked his popsicle. It wasn’t seductive , per se, but there was something in his eyes that made a little flare of heat bloom in your tummy anyway. Caracalla grinned like he knew what he did to you. 

Geta called your name and beckoned you over to sit beside him. You did, pulling out your laptop and setting it up on the coffee table. Also on the coffee table were several books about Roman history. Your goal for the evening was to find an emperor to research and start building the outline of your project. 

“Did you hit up the library recently?” you wondered as you picked up one of the books.

“These are from my personal collection,” he answered. 

“Geta is very into history,” Caracalla explained, plopping down on your other side. He took another bite of his popsicle, and the crunching noise made a giggle well up inside you. 

“I’ve noticed,” you mused. “What are you into, Caracalla?”

“I know what I’d like to be in—“

“That’s enough,” Geta interrupted through gritted teeth. “Behave yourself or leave.”

“I don’t think (Y/N) wants me to behave myself,” he hummed. Caracalla’s eyes were bright with mischief. “Do you, (Y/N)?” 

You bit your lip to hold back your laughter. “Your brother and I have work to do,” you said, almost apologetic. “So, maybe behave yourself, at least a little.”

Caracalla sighed dramatically and bit off the remainder of his popsicle. “Okay, but I’m doing it for you,” he said through a mouth full of ice. “Not Geta.” 

“Noted. Thank you,” you said with a nod. You went back to looking at the books on the table. You picked one up titled The Decadent Emperors: Power and Depravity in Third-Century Rome and flicked through it. One of the pages was dogeared and you stopped to read through it. “Hey, your name’s in this,” you marveled, nudging Caracalla with your elbow. 

“Is it?” mused Caracalla. He tossed his used popsicle stick behind him and leaned in close, his arm chilly as it pressed against you. “Would you look at that?” 

You touched his arm and let out a concerned hum. “You feel so cold, Caracalla. Why were you eating a popsicle?” 

“I am cold,” he confirmed and looked at you with a pitiful expression. “Maybe you could—“

“Our mother named us after Roman emperors,” Geta interrupted before his twin could get out another innuendo. He cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him. “She wanted us to aspire to greatness.” 

You looked back down at the book and grimaced. “Judging from the book title, I think she could have probably chosen better names.”

Caracalla laughed, loud and cackling, his whole body rocking back with the force of it. You grinned, pleased he was so reactive. 

“Maybe,” Geta agreed, a soft smile playing on his lips. He plucked the book from your hands and shut it. “Let’s look in a different book, shall we?” 

You and Geta searched through the other books on the table, tossing a few names back and forth for the other to mull over. The two you kept coming back to were Caligula and Nero. Geta argued that Nero was the more influential of the two, but you preferred Caligula since his name was so recognizable to you. 

“It’s because of the sex movie, isn’t it?” Caracalla asked, just loud enough for you to hear. 

“…No!”

Caracalla chuckled. “Very convincing,” he purred teasingly. He sighed happily. “You and I are going to get along just swimmingly, (Y/N).”

Geta was not at all amused by his brother’s flirtations, nor by how easily they swayed you. “Right,” he said flatly. “Did you intend to talk about Caligula’s erotic exploits in front of the class, (Y/N)?”

You flushed under Geta’s irritation. “No,” you answered quietly.

“No,” he agreed. “So, Nero?”

“Nero it is,” you sighed. 

“Good.” Geta went back to flipping through the books, looking for sources now that you had a subject.

Feeling admonished, you turned to look at Caracalla. He grimaced sympathetically and patted your arm. “He’s mean, isn’t he?” Caracalla tutted. “Here, come here, I’ll comfort you, (Y/N).” 

Flustered but eager to play along, you settled back into his open arms, tucking yourself against Caracalla’s side. “He is mean,” you whined softly. You glanced back at Geta with a playful smile, and felt a bolt of something hot rush through you as you took in the clear jealousy in his expression. 

“You two are insufferable,” Geta scoffed. 

You pouted. “Does that mean you won’t invite me over anymore?”

“Don’t worry,” Caracalla cooed, “you have an open invitation from me to come over whenever you please.” 

“Yay,” you cheered, grinning. “Guess that means you’ll see me around more, Geta.”

“Goody,” he replied flatly. “I can’t wait.” 

You extracted yourself from Caracalla’s side ”Are you guys hungry?” you asked. “I am.” 

“Starving,” Caracalla answered, leaning in so his reply ghosted along the shell of your ear. You shivered. 

“Brother,” Geta warned. “ Behave .”

“I am behaving,” cooed Caracalla. “(Y/N) asked a question, I answered.” He rested his cheek on your shoulder. “Do you think I’m behaving, (Y/N)?”

You brought your hand up and gently patted his face. “You’re being sooo good, Caracalla.” 

He giggled, the sound high and sweet, and he finally leaned away from you, allowing your heart rate to slow back to normal. 

“I suppose we must feed you if you are hungry, (Y/N),” Geta sighed. “Lest you think us bad hosts.” 

“You? A bad host?” You tutted. “I’d never think that,” you drawled dryly.

Geta cracked a smile. “What would you like to eat?” 

“I know what I’d like—“

“I wasn’t asking you,” Geta hissed, interrupting his brother. He took a deep breath and offered you another, weaker smile. “(Y/N)?” 

“Uh…” You shrugged. “Whatever,” you answered. “I’m not picky. Do you guys wanna get, like, a pizza or something?”

“No Italian food,” Caracalla tutted. 

You sat up straight and stared at him with your mouth agape, much to Caracallla’s obvious amusement. “You’re named after Roman emperors, and you don’t eat Italian food?”

Caracalla nodded towards his brother. “Geta’s got a garlic allergy,” he mused.

“A garlic allergy?” you repeated. You looked at Geta and furrowed your eyebrows. “Goth… garlic allergy… what, are you a vampire or something?” you teased. 

Geta frowned. “Goth?” he repeated. “What is that?”

“What??” you shrieked. “What do you mean ?”

“Do you mean Goth, as in the Germanic peoples from the 3rd century?” Geta ventured, his eyebrows raised. 

“You’re teasing me,” you said. When he shook his head, you looked at Caracalla, who gave you an unhelpful shrug. “Oh my God… You really don’t know what goth is…” You scrambled for your phone. “It’s an alternative subculture that arose in the 80s,” you explained. “You love history, how do you not know this?”

“Geta slept through the 80s,” Caracalla mused. “Not me, though, I loved the 80s.”

“Ha-ha,” you deadpanned as you pulled up pictures of goths to show Geta. ”Look. You’re one of them!”

Geta looked at the pictures, brown eyes narrowed and face scrunched as he considered what you were showing him. “…Hmm.” 

“Hmm?” you repeated. “What does that mean?”

“Surely this subculture is not merely aesthetic-based,” Geta said carefully. 

“No,” you admitted, “music is a big part of it, too. I have some The Cure albums, if you want to come over some time and listen. I feel like you’d probably love The Smiths.”

“He would,” Caracalla confirmed. You lightly hit Caracalla’s chest, making him pout. “What?”

“You let him walk around like this—“ you gestured to Geta’s all black outfit, going so far as to take his hand and hold it up to point to the myriad of rings decorating his slim fingers, “—and you didn’t even tell him about goths??”

Caracalla shrugged again, biting back a laugh. “Well, I don’t know, he just kind of… buys stuff! I never thought to explain the complexities of music subcultures to him.” 

“You’re a bad brother,” you teased. You patted Geta’s hand lightly and put it back down. “That’s okay, I’ll tell you all about goths. I consider myself goth-adjacent. I’m a big Talking Heads fan.”

Geta’s face twisted in confusion. “Talking Heads?” he repeated dubiously.

“OH MY GOD,” you yelled. “Both of you shut the fuck up, I’m going to make you listen to Once in a Lifetime for the first time and change your lives.”

“You’re very cute when you’re excited,” Caracalla purred as you opened up YouTube on your laptop. 

“She said shut up,” Geta huffed.

You searched for the Once in a Lifetime music video and turned your volume all the way up, settling back between the twins as it started to play. David Byrne seemed to bewitch the both of them, as David Byrne is wont to do, and you greatly enjoyed watching Geta’s facial expressions change from puzzled to intrigued to confused again.

“He’s kind of hot,” Caracalla murmured. 

“More than kind of,” you agreed. 

“He’s strange,” Geta grunted, glancing at you. 

You nodded. “That’s part of it.” 

Geta sneered and returned his eyes to the screen. “The song is good,” he admitted. “If not a bit… repetitive.” 

“Same as it ever was,” you said with a nod. 

“Same as it ever was,” agreed Caracalla.

You nudged Geta’s thigh with yours. “Say it, Geta.” 

“No.”

“Say it,” you prodded. “Same as it ever was.”

When he continued to refuse, you leaned in and grabbed his hand, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. Geta tilted his head to the side, looking so much like he was going to refuse you yet again, but then he muttered, “Same as it ever was.” 

You beamed. “Thank you,” you purred, squeezing his hand before you let it go. When the music video ended, you pulled up your preferred music program and let Talking Heads’ greatest hits play quietly in the background. “Did we decide on food?” you asked as your stomach growled.

“We did not,” Caracalla said, “but I’m not really hungry.” He stood and stretched, his shirt riding up to let you see the trail of hair that dusted his belly. Your brain supplied a few suggestions for what you’d like to do to that belly, and you looked away quickly, sure your desire was written all over your face. “I’ll leave you two to your boring research,” sighed Caracalla. “But before I do…” Caracalla pulled his phone out of his pocket (a normal smartphone, unlike his brother’s) and handed it to you with a new contact page pulled up. “(Y/N), you must give me your number,” he ordered happily. 

“Well, if I must,” you drawled, taking the phone. You entered your information and handed it back to him, your fingertips brushing against his. That little bit of contact was enough to send a thrill up your spine. Oh, he was dangerous for you. 

Caracalla let out a little laugh. “I’ll be seeing you later,” he said certainly, sending you a wink. He brushed past your legs so he could shove his brother before he left.

“Fuck off,” Geta hissed, lashing out at him in return. For all of Geta’s grace and poise, you liked the frustration that Caracalla seemed to bring out in him. It made him seem… normal. 

“Twins, huh?” you mused once Caracalla had left the room. “Brothers, I can tell, but twins is surprising. You’re very different.”

“Like night and day,” Geta agreed in a mutter. With his brother gone, Geta seemed to be able to relax, the tightness in his body replaced by the confident sprawl you were used to. He leaned back, and you felt a pulse of heat run through you as he spread his legs. You felt the sudden need to be between them.

You must have been staring or something, because Geta suddenly smiled and laughed. “Have something you’d like to say?” he teased. 

“N-No,” you denied, shaking your head.

“No?” repeated Geta in a purr. “Fine then, keep your secrets.” As if to tease you further, Geta ran his hands up and down his thighs; you knew that fucker’s palms weren’t sweaty. 

You swallowed hard and looked away. Man, coming over had been a bad idea. “We should, um, try to get some work done,” you ventured.

“Sure,” Geta agreed. “But, I thought you were hungry.”

“I am hungry.”

“Then let me feed you.” You watched him rise from the sofa (always so graceful— how did he do that?), and you stood, too, following him into the kitchen. The kitchen was immaculate, as if they never used it, but when Geta opened the fridge, you could see it was stocked; with good food, too! Not what you would have expected to see in the fridge of two men in their early-to-mid-twenties. “Take whatever you wish,” Geta said. 

You hummed in thought and plucked a bag of grapes from the fridge. Before you could do anything with them, Geta took the bag from your hands and went to wash the grapes for you.

“Choose more,” he ordered as he deposited the washed grapes into a bowl. 

“How are you simultaneously bossy and sweet?” you mused. You grabbed a block of cheese and shut the fridge. Geta gave you an approving nod and grabbed a roll of crackers from the cupboard before taking the cheese so he could slice it for you. Before you knew it, Geta had prepared a mini charcuterie board for you. He looked quite pleased with himself. “Thank you, Geta,” you said, “but what about you? Are we sharing?”

“Oh, no, I’m not hungry,” he said. “I ate before you got here.” 

“Oh.” You frowned. “Okay.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing!” You smiled reassuringly. “I just feel a little weird eating by myself, that’s all,” you explained. 

Geta shrugged. “Don’t.”

“Helpful,” you said wryly. “Thank you.”

Geta set his hands on your shoulders and steered you back towards the living room. You sat down and ate while Geta commandeered your laptop. You watched with interest as he easily compiled a list of relevant sources. He was clearly a practiced researcher, and you were more than a little impressed.

“I don’t want you to think I’m making you do all the work,” you protested. 

“I don’t think that,” said Geta, not looking up from your laptop. 

“Promise?”

Geta looked at you then, and his expression offered no room for argument. 

You bit back a smile and nodded. “Got it,” you muttered before popping a grape in your mouth. You offered him one, but he shook his head, once again enthralled by the computer. 

Once you had eaten your fill, you scooted closer to Geta, leaning against his side so you could see what he was up to. “Hey!” you exclaimed as you realized he was already writing a very detailed outline. 

“Hey,” he mused in return, still typing. 

“Geta, you’re doing too much,” you scolded. You reached to take your laptop back, but he moved it out of your reach. You grunted as you flailed for it uselessly. His arms were longer than yours, and he clearly felt no qualms about lauding that over you. You scrambled onto your knees and continued to fight for the laptop. Geta continued to keep it out of your reach, even going so far as to laugh as you lunged forward. Your chest pressed against his, and then you were pushing him against the armrest, practically in his lap as you tried to get your laptop. ”Geta!”

“I really don’t mind, (Y/N),” he said with a laugh. 

“Well, I do,” you whined. You gave up with a heavy sigh and sat back, sort of sprawling over the rest of the sofa. “I want to help.”

“You don’t need to help,” Geta assured you. “I’ve written enough about Nero to do this in my sleep.”

“That’s boring,” you complained. “And not conducive to an effective learning environment.” 

Geta raised an eyebrow, looking thoroughly amused by your protest. “You know, most people would be excited at the prospect of not having to do work on a project.” 

“Maybe,” you agreed, “but I took this class because I wanted to, not for a college credit. That’s the difference between me and most people.” 

Geta finally conceded and handed you your laptop. You grinned. “Thank you,” you chirped. “My next move was climbing into your lap.”

“Maybe I should take it back, then…”

“Ha-ha,” you said flatly. “Are you trying to flirt with me, Geta?” Not expecting an answer, you scanned the portion of an outline Geta had already written. Wow, he had put citations and everything… “How the fuck—?”

“Would it be so bad if I was?” Geta asked suddenly, interrupting you. 

You lifted your gaze to him, furrowing your eyebrows. “If you were, what?” 

“Trying to flirt with you.”

You flushed, staring at him with your mouth slightly agape. “I… No,” you croaked, ”that wouldn’t be bad.” 

He smiled, satisfied. Geta nodded towards the laptop. “What do you think?”

“This is kind of insane,” you admitted. “How do you just, like, have this information? Are you copying from something?”

Geta scoffed. “Don’t insult my integrity,” he said. 

“Then, how did you do this so fast?” you asked. “There’s no way you’ve read every one of these sources—“

“Of course I have,” he sniffed, lifting his chin pridefully. 

“Geta, there’s like 20 here!”

“I didn’t read them all tonight,” he sighed, rolling his eyes. “I’ve read them in the past.”

“And, what, you have like photographic memory?”

“I’ve read them several times now,” drawled Geta. “As I said, I’ve written about Nero enough times that—“

“How old are you?” you interrupted.

“…What?”

“How old are you?” you repeated simply. “I thought you were, like, twenty-one, maybe? But there’s no way you could be that young and be this experienced as a researcher.” 

“And why not?” he sniffed, avoiding the question.

You tutted and shook your head. “No answer? That’s another tally on the ‘Geta’s a vampire’ chart,” you teased. 

“This is ridiculous,” he scoffed. “I’ve been researching the Roman Empire for a long time now—“

“Because you lived there?” 

Geta huffed. “You’re incorrigible.” 

“Maybe,” you amended with a grin. “But I get the feeling you like that.” 

Geta rolled his eyes again. “And if I did, I would never tell you,” he drawled. “Because it would only make you worse.” 

“Oh, one hundred percent.” You clicked save on the outline to make sure it was safe and shut your laptop. “I think I should head home,” you sighed.

“What? Why?” Geta asked, mildly alarmed. 

You smiled, crinkling your nose slightly. “Uh, because it’s late and we’ve done what we met to do?” 

He frowned. “Oh,” he said. “I suppose…”

You bit back a smile. “You don’t want me to leave?” you mused.

“I was enjoying our time,” Geta admitted. “But, if you must leave…” 

“I’m afraid I must.” You gave him a sympathetic smile and stuffed your laptop back into your bag. “I have much to think about before the next class, plus I have work tomorrow.”

Geta nodded, still looking a bit sour about the fact you were leaving. “I understand.” 

You stood, shouldering your bag, and Geta stood, too. “Should we schedule another meeting?” you suggested. “We can meet at my place next time.”

His eyes brightened at that. “Really?” asked Geta. “You’d invite me over?”

“Sure.” You shrugged. “I don’t see why not; though, I should warn you, my apartment is not as nice as this place.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Geta said, waving away the comment. “Yes, I’d like that.” 

“Great! How about…” You took your phone from your pocket and looked through your calendar for your next day off. “Thursday afternoon?”

“Oh. Uh, no, I can’t do days,” he said. Geta offered you a weak smile. “Work. Like you.” 

“How about Wednesday night, then?” you suggested. “Then you can stay as long as you like, and I won’t have to worry about getting up early the next morning.”

Geta smiled and looked away, running his hand through his hair. You wanted to do that, too. Maybe if your next meeting went well… “Sounds good,” he said. “I’ll see you then.” 

Feeling bold, you leaned in and kissed his cheek before you passed him to head to the door. “Thanks for having me over, Geta.”

“It was my pleasure,” Geta assured you as he followed you. 

You slipped your shoes back on and lingered in front of the door for a moment, looking him over. Geta had his hands shoved in his pockets, and he looked almost… nervous? His eyes were wide and vulnerable as he looked back at you. ”Goodnight, Geta,” you said.

Geta smiled weakly. “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

You almost wanted him to hold you back, like Dream-Geta so often did, but you didn’t hold your breath. You offered him a little wave before you stepped through the door. Then, you went to your car and left. 

Chapter Text

You gasped sharply as you awoke, your alarm blaring and clearing out the dregs of your most recent dream about Geta. You groaned and patted around for your phone. As soon as the screen met your palm, you snoozed your alarm and drew your phone closer. You blinked away the sleep in your eyes and scanned your notifications. While you were sleeping, you had gotten several texts from an unknown number.

hiiiii <3

itz caracalla ;))

we should hang soon xx

wanna party w me sat nite?? got the deetz for a total rager XD

plz? O_O

You let out a little ‘huh’ as you mulled over an answer. Why did Geta’s twin brother text like he was 13 and on MySpace? 

You pondered what to do. At the very least, partying with Caracalla would cure your boredom. On the other hand, you got the vibe that his brother was kind of into you, too, and you weren’t sure you wanted to jeopardize that. Still… partying with Caracalla seemed really fun.

You texted him back.

hi caracalla! sure, we can hang out on saturday :) that sounds like fun!

You almost expected him to text you back right away, but considering his last text was sent at three in the morning, he was definitely asleep. You suppressed your disappointment and got ready for work. 

Your day passed in a slog, monotonous and not worth mentioning in any capacity. It was even more boring than normal as you waited impatiently for Caracalla to text you back. Unfortunately for you, his reply didn’t come until the sun was sinking below the horizon. 

yayyyyyy xx <333

His text made you smile. The emoticons were growing on you. Soon after reading his reply, you got another text. 

cum ovr @ 9 on sat so we can pregame >:)

You snickered. He was kind of ridiculous. You texted back.

pregame?? how are we getting to this party, caracalla?

Caracalla’s reply was immediate.

geta will drive XP <3

Oh, of course he was roping his brother into this.

does geta know that? lol

Caracalla’s reply was simply a mess of laughing and heart emojis. Great. Very clear, thank you, Caracalla. 

A few minutes passed, and then your phone started ringing, startling you.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Do not go to that party with him,” Geta warned in place of a greeting.

“Aw, what? Why not?” you asked, trying not to whine. “He seems fun.”

“He’s a menace.”

“Okay, sure, but a fun menace.” You grinned. “Why don’t you come with us, if you’re that worried?” 

Geta was silent for so long, you had to look at your phone and make sure he hadn’t hung up. 

“Geta?” you ventured.

“…Fine,” he said. “But only because I’m concerned for your safety.”

“Noted,” you mused. “Definitely not because you want to party.” 

“I’ve had enough of partying with Caracalla to last several lifetimes, thank you.” He sighed. “I’m far happier at home with a cup of tea and a book.”

“Aw, Geta, you’re so cute,” you cooed. “You’re like an old man.” 

“I’m not—!”

“Okay, whatever, byyyyyye Geta,” you said before you hung up. You glanced at your phone to see Caracalla had sent you several more heart emojis in varying colors, seemingly without pattern. You texted him back a single red heart emoji and set aside your phone so you could make dinner for yourself. By the time you sat down to eat, you had a screen full of texts from Caracalla.

u got him to cum w omggggg XoX 

im ded XP

wat r u gunna wear

sumthin sexy i hope xx <33

send pics X3 <3

wat r u doin OwO

r u busy ??? :((((

send pics plzzzz <3 

You nearly choked on your food. You bit your bottom lip as you debated on what to do. You looked down at yourself. You had taken a shower after work and were dressed in your pajamas, which consisted of a big shirt and… yeah, that was it. Plus underwear, of course. You sighed through your nose and held your phone up, taking a selfie that showed your sleep shirt and a hint of thigh. You stuck your tongue out teasingly in the picture. Satisfied, you sent it to Caracalla. 

His response was immediate. 

OMG UR SO HOT <33 

The text was followed by another slew of emojis, all conveying his appreciation. The dopamine hit you got from the exchange was heady, and you were tempted to send more. You restrained yourself. 

A few minutes passed before you got another text, allowing some time to eat in peace; his next texts, however, had you choking again.

u shuld cum ovr 2nite ;)

geta left

just us ;* 

You stared at the texts with your mouth agape. You were flabbergasted at his forwardness. It was not that the idea was unappealing, it was just— it was so sudden! Then again, what had you expected, sending something provocative? Even if it was only a little bit…

i dunno, caracalla, what would we do?

There. That was probably safe. 

prolly fuk lol

You threw your phone away and covered your mouth with your hand to muffle your scream. Well! No mistaking that! 

When you picked up your phone again, you could see he had sent a few follow-ups.

if u want ofc x 

orrrrr just kiss idk

but i want 2 fuk u <3

You laughed and texted back.

at least you’re honest lol

Caracalla’s reply was swift.

SO honest *nods*

so ??

r u cuming???

You bit your lower lip, surprised by how tempting the offer was. It had been a while since you hooked up with someone, and you were definitely attracted to Caracalla. Still, there was that bit in the back of your mind that held onto the idea that Geta liked you. You didn’t want to mess with that until you were certain one way or the other— and you imagined fucking his twin brother would definitely mess with that!

no <3

but maybe after the party…

Another text from Caracalla.

YAY !!! <333

You burst into giggles. Yay? He had said yay to potentially having sex with you??

Your phone buzzed and your eyes widened as you looked at the image Caracalla had just sent you. It was a selfie centering on his body, though you could see the bottom half of his face. He was using his teeth to hold up the bottom hem of his shirt, likely due to the fact that his other hand was busy tugging down the waistband of his shorts, giving you a glimpse of his boxers. Your mouth watered at the sight of him and the body hair that covered his abdomen. You needed to bury your face in his chest— as soon as possible. You looked a little closer and noticed that where his happy trail disappeared into his waistband, you could see the imprint of his erection, hard and straining against his shorts. 

“Fuck me,” you mumbled to yourself. It was your turn to reply with emojis, though you settled for a few red hearts and a blushing face. 

Caracalla’s reply was simple, but effective. 

wish u were here x <3

You were just thinking that maybe you should go over, when you got a text from Geta. 

DON’T.

That was it. Just ‘”DON’T” in all capitals and a period. Well, if that wasn’t a sign, you didn’t know what was. You texted Caracalla. 

nice try <3

There. That was that. No more being seduced by Caracalla. 

He sent you another picture. 

It was far more innocent than the first one, just a regular selfie of him pouting, his hair tousled cutely. It was still enough to make your heart race. Why the hell was he so cute? He followed the selfie with a broken heart emoji. 

awww poor baby :,( don’t look so sad, caracalla!!

You followed up your text with a selfie of your own, pinching your thumb and index finger together to make a little heart. 

Caracalla replied with another selfie, this one of him beaming with his eyes shut tight. You couldn’t help but respond with several heart emojis. 

You responded to Geta’s text next.

won’t 

Geta responded quickly.

GOOD.

Your mind conjured the image of him painstakingly typing out his texts on his flip phone, and you laughed. 

jealous? ;*

Another quick reply.

NO.

You snickered and typed out a reply.

liar <3

It took longer for Geta to reply, so much so that you started to not expect one, but then your phone buzzed.

>:(

You cackled. Oh, but those two were a blast to interact with. You set your phone aside so you could finish your dinner. To your simultaneous relief and disappointment, you received no further texts from either twin that night. You got ready for bed and fell asleep thinking about Caracalla’s picture. 

Chapter Text

You woke up to your phone ringing. You groaned and fumbled for it, cringing as the bright screen illuminated the dark room. You didn’t look to see who it was as you answered. “Hello?” you answered groggily.

“Oh, did I wake you?” cooed a familiar voice.

“Caracalla?” You rubbed your eyes and checked the time. “It’s so early. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Caracalla assured you. “I’d be better if you were here.”

You huffed out a soft laugh. “Why are you calling me?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said. “You got me all worked up earlier.”

You let out a shaky sigh, your sleepiness fading quickly. “Oh, yeah?” 

“Mhm.” 

“And that’s my problem because…?” you drawled. 

You heard a rustle on the other end of the phone. “It isn’t,” Caracalla said easily, “but I was hoping you could help me out anyway.”

“Help you out?” you repeated flatly. “Hmm. How should I do that?”

“I like hearing you speak.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “Just talk to me.” 

“And what are you going to do while I talk to you?”

Caracalla let out a raspy laugh. “What do you want me to do?” he purred. 

A little wave of pleasure rolled through you. To play or not to play? You just couldn’t resist. “I bet you think you’re so clever, don’t you, Caracalla?” 

“I do, yeah,” Caracalla sighed happily.  

“Were you hoping I’d tell you to touch yourself?” you teased. “Calling me at three in the morning…” You tutted. “Kind of desperate, now that I think about it.” 

Caracalla exhaled slowly. “Oh, so you’re a little mean with it, huh?” 

“Only if you want me to be, baby,” you mused. “I can be sweet, if you prefer. You wanna hear that you’re a good boy while you stroke your cock to my voice?”

He groaned. “Fuck, you’re hot. I knew you’d be good at this.”

“Is that why you called me?” you hummed. 

“Uh-huh,” breathed Caracalla. “I want you to tell me what to do.” 

“Paint me a picture, Cara,” you ordered. “What are you wearing?” 

He chuckled. “A little basic,” he teased. 

“Do you want to do this or not?” you huffed. 

“Alright, alright,” Caracalla conceded. “I’m in bed, in my boxers.” 

You imagined it— imagined him stretched out on the bed, his boxers slung low on his hips and bulging as he hardened at the sound of your voice. “Shirtless?” you asked, voice coming out more breathy than you intended. 

“I am.” Caracalla chuckled. “Did you like my picture from earlier?” he purred. 

“I did. Probably too much,” you admitted. You licked your lips. “You’re so pretty, Caracalla. You look very biteable.”

Another laugh crackled through the phone, making you grin. “You know, I was going to tell you the same thing,” purred Caracalla. “You are positively delicious.” 

“Stop,” you laughed, “you’ll make me blush.” 

“I’d love to see that,” he said. “You should send me some pictures.” 

You hesitated a moment as you considered his proposition. “I don’t know,” you drawled. “Wouldn’t you rather see it in person?”

“You know I would,” Caracalla breathed. “Why? Do you wanna come over?” 

You bit back a laugh. “Baby, I have work in the morning,” you said. “I’m not coming over.”

“Aw.” You could imagine the pout on his face. “But I wanna fuck you,” Caracalla whined. 

A shiver ran through you at his admission. “Yeah? Tell me what you would do to me if I was there,” you ordered. “Touch yourself while you do it.” 

“The first thing I’d do,” he said eagerly, “is make you lay down so I could bury my face between your thighs.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat as you imagined Caracalla looking up at you with his pretty blue eyes as he ate you out, his hair all messy from your hands being tangled in it. You couldn’t help yourself— you snuck your hand between your legs and started to rub yourself through your underwear. “Is that your plan for after the party?” you breathed. 

“Fuck yes,” he hissed happily. “I want you to sit on my face and cum on my tongue so many times that you’re all I can taste for days.”

You whined. “You want me to ride your face, Cara?” You bit your lower lip. “I’d like to grind my clit against that pretty nose of yours.” 

“Please,” Caracalla begged, “I want you to. Fuck, I want you to use me however you want.” 

“Keep going,” you urged. “What else would you do to me if I was there?” 

“I’d fucking rail you,” he answered with a breathy laugh. “Straight to pound town.”

“Ugh, dude, you need to work on your dirty talk,” you groaned. 

“Well, what do you want me to say?” mused Caracalla. 

You laughed. “I dunno, but not that you’re going to take me to pound town. God, what a boner killer.”

“Not for me.” He laughed, too. “I’m hard as fuck right now.” 

“See, now, that’s what I want to hear,” you purred encouragingly. “Are you touching yourself?” 

“Yeah, you wanna see?”

“…Maybe?”

There was some rustling on the other end of the line and then your phone buzzed. You opened your message app, and a delicious wave of heat radiated through your entire body. It wasn’t a very high quality pic, but it was enough. The flash of his camera made his skin look even paler than usual, and you finally got to see what his happy trail was leading to. Caracalla’s boxers were down around his thighs and he had his hand wrapped around his cock, the picture blurry as if he couldn’t be bothered to stop long enough to take the picture. “Pretty,” you murmured to yourself.

“Like what you see?” came Caracalla’s distant reply. 

You put the phone back to your ear. “I really wish I was there,” you admitted. 

“Come over,” he cooed. “I’ll let you put it in your mouth.”

“How generous of you,” you mused dryly. “Maybe while I’m riding your face—“

“Oh, fuck , you’re a genius,” interrupted Caracalla. “The only problem with that is I’d cum wayyy too fast.”

You giggled. “Thank you for your honesty,” you sighed. “You don’t think my pussy would make you cum fast, too?” 

“Depends,” Caracalla sniffed. “How wet are you?”

“Right now?”

“Yeah. I’m not the only one touching myself, am I?” he cooed. “I know you’re rubbing that pretty pussy for me.” 

“Y-Yeah,” you managed to reply. “I am.” 

“So…? Tell me, sweetheart,” he goaded. “Tell me how wet I made you.” 

You swallowed hard and slid your hand into your panties, unsurprised to find you were soaking. “I could drown you,” you mused.

“ Fuck ,” he breathed, “I want you to.” There was a little pause as Caracalla gasped, and then he whined, “Why won’t you come over?” You could hear his pout again. “I want you so bad. Don’t you want me, too?” 

“Yeah, but—“

“No buts,” Caracalla tutted. “Come over and let me fuck you into the mattress.” 

It was kind of crazy how close you were to caving. He was so persuasive, even if he was also ridiculous… or maybe you were just really horny. “You have to be patient, Caracalla,” you purred. “The tension makes it better.”

He groaned. “Tension,” he repeated in a mutter. “The only tension I wanna feel is your cunt squeezing me until I cum inside you.” 

You whined; you couldn’t help it. The image of Caracalla filling you up was making fireworks go off in your brain. You just knew he’d be rough with it, too, all harsh thrusts and bruising grips. Oh, but you wanted him to mark you up, to claim you as his until you couldn’t even think of anyone else. “Caracalla—“

“Say it again,” breathed Caracalla. “I wanna hear you say my name.” 

You moaned his name, bucking against your hand as a bolt of heat shot through you. “Want you, Cara” you panted. “Fuck, baby, I need you.” 

“What happened to being patient?” he teased. “Building tension?” 

“Fuck that. I need you inside me.”

Caracalla laughed. “You’ll have to make do with your fingers for now,” he advised, a tinge of sympathy coloring his voice. “Slip two of them inside you right now and think of me. Can you do that, pretty girl?” 

“Uh-huh,” you breathed. You followed his order, whimpering as you slowly slid two of your fingers inside yourself. It still wasn’t enough, but whatever. 

“Pics to prove it?” he purred. 

You fumbled with your phone for a moment and pulled up your camera, taking a slightly blurry picture of your hand stuffed in your underwear. You sent it. 

Caracalla groaned happily. “You’re so fucking hot,” he marveled. “I’m gonna tear those panties off of you with my teeth.” 

You whined and clenched around your fingers. Desperation was well and truly sinking its claws into you. You needed him more than you needed to breathe, and the fact that he wasn’t there made it worse. “Are you still…?” You trailed off.

“Jerking off for you?” he finished with a chuckle. “Yes, sweetheart, I am. That pretty little picture has me getting real close to the edge, too.”

“Are you gonna think about me when you cum?” you breathed. 

“Fuck yes I am.” Caracalla inhaled sharply and let out a moan. “M’gonna think about shooting my load inside you, filling up your pussy until you’re dripping. I bet you’ll look so pretty with my cock inside you.”

“G-Guess we’ll find out soon.” 

He moaned again, louder. “Oh, I’m gonna cum,” warned Caracalla. He whined your name, and just the sound of him was enough to push you over the edge, your imagination supplying image after image of Caracalla finishing inside you. 

There was a long stretch of silence as you both fought to catch your breath. Caracalla was the one to break it. “I can’t wait for Saturday,” he said. 

“Me neither,” you agreed, still panting. “So, uh… goodnight, I guess?”

Caracalla huffed out a laugh. “So quick to get rid of me,” he mused. “You prefer to just hit it and quit it?”

“Well, no, but… I do have work in a couple hours,” you sighed.

“Call in.”

“Oh, sure, let me just explain to my manager that I can’t come in because I was too busy having phone sex instead of sleeping.”

“It was worth it though, right?” asked Caracalla.

“It’ll be worth it if you make good on your promises,” you purred. “You talk a lot of talk, Caracalla, but can you put your money where your mouth is?”

“Pretty girl, you have no idea what I’m capable of,” he purred. Caracalla yawned, making you smile. “Bed does sound good right now, though.” 

“Exactly,” you agreed. “Goodnight, Cara.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N). And thanks for your help.”

“You are so welcome,” you sighed. 

Chapter Text

You spent the next day at work groggy and slow, but it was hard to be mad about it when you thought about why you were groggy and slow. 

It was kind of embarrassing how much you craved talking to Caracalla again. He was clearly a fuckboy who was only interested in one thing, but was that really so bad? It was nice to be wanted so intensely. You wondered briefly if he had told Geta about last night, which led you to wondering exactly how close the twins were. Were hookups something they talked about?

…Did last night count as a hookup?

You groaned. It was all too confusing. 

After work, you showered and got ready for class. You were full of nervous energy, not at all ready to face Geta. What if he knew? What if he knew and he hated you for it? You seriously considered skipping class… but, if Geta didn’t know, surely he would wonder why you weren’t in class. Maybe he would call you and ask why you missed, and that seemed worse to you.

You went to class. 

You got there early; so early, you were the first to arrive. You settled into your usual seat and bounced your leg anxiously until the other students started to file in. Much to your surprise, Geta was the last one to arrive, barely getting in after the professor. He looked… rough as he took his seat next to you. His hair was messier than you’d ever seen it, and his button-up wasn’t even buttoned, revealing his black undershirt tucked into his unbelted slacks. At first you thought he was going to ignore you, but he shot you a silent nod when he finally fell into his seat. You didn’t have time to ask him if he was okay before class started, and the professor lectured the whole time, so you had to wait until the very end— and you almost missed your chance. As soon as class was dismissed, Geta was up and walking out.

“Geta, wait,” you gasped, scrambling up to catch him. You nearly toppled over when he stopped suddenly. You grabbed his wrist and pulled him over to a more secluded alcove of the hall. “What’s going on?” you asked him softly. 

Geta stared at you silently for a long moment. The expression on his face was unreadable, and you found it incredibly unnerving. “He had you on speaker,” was all he said. 

A wave of nausea rolled through you, making you weak at the knees. “Did he?” you asked, hardly breathing. 

Geta’s jaw clenched. “Thin walls. Right next door.”  

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted weakly. 

He smiled then, but it was a cruel smile that made your stomach turn. “I assure you, I’ve heard more than enough.” 

Geta turned to leave, but you caught him by the arm. “Wait, please—“ You swallowed hard. “Please don’t go. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “I know what he’s like. I’m not surprised.” Again, his jaw clenched, and he looked away from you, his brown eyes narrowing. “Just disappointed.” Geta tugged loose from your hold. You didn’t stop him again; just watched as he stalked down the hallway. 

The walk back to your car was the worst you had felt in a long time. Embarrassment and shame were dancing a waltz in your stomach, and you were really worried that you might throw up. 

Inside your car, however, the volatile cocktail in your tummy was slowly replaced with indignation. What the fuck was Geta’s problem? It wasn’t like he had staked some freakish claim on you. Sure, you could understand his being upset, but his reaction, the way he ignored you— that seemed over the top. If anything, he should be mad at his brother, and not at you. You were innocent!

…Right? 

The drive home was excruciating. Your phone rang twice, but you ignored it. You didn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment, especially not who you suspected the caller was. 

To put you on speaker while he knew his brother was home… God, you were pissed. Talk about staking some freakish claim on you! No, you did not want to talk to Caracalla, because talking would lead to you yelling, and you didn’t have the energy for that. 

You checked your phone as soon as you parked, because your will wasn’t that strong, and sure enough, the calls were from Caracalla. You also had several texts from him.

babyyyyyy

don’t ignore me :((

pick up da fone

still on 4 sat???

babe plz :,(

You took a deep breath to center yourself. Despite your anger, you hated leaving him on read. You waited until you were inside your apartment to finally call Caracalla back.

He answered after the first ring. “Sweetheart!” he cheered. “How was your day?”

“I’m mad at you,” you replied shortly. 

“Mad at me?” He didn’t sound overly bothered. “What have I done to earn the ire of such a beautiful woman?” 

“Speaker phone, Caracalla?” you scoffed. “While Geta’s in the room next to you?”

“My hand was busy,” Caracalla answered smoothly. 

You scoffed. “If you think I’m just some toy you can use to make your brother jealous—“

“What?” Now you could hear some alarm in his voice. “Is that what you think?”

“I have little evidence for the contrary,” you sighed. “All I’ve got right now is an angry Geta, and I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Geta’s always angry with something,” Caracalla said dismissively. “It’ll blow over.” 

“That’s easy for you to say, you didn’t have to get the silent treatment during class.”

“No, I just have to live with him,” he mused. “Speaking of…” You heard Caracalla call out, but couldn’t make out what he said. It sounded like something was brushing against the phone speaker, and then he was back. “You wanna talk to him?” asked Caracalla.

“What? No—!“

“You’re on speaker, (Y/N),” Caracalla interrupted. 

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered. 

“Why are you doing this, Caracalla?” Geta sighed tiredly.

“We need to clear the air,” Caracalla mused. “I don’t want any tension between my girl and my brother.”

A little thrill went through you, but you still hastily cut in. “Your girl?” you repeated. “That’s presumptive.” 

“Nah,” Caracalla said, his grin evident in his voice. “I’m right.”

Geta groaned. “This is ridiculous,” he said. “I’m going to my room.”

“Wait, Geta, don’t—“ You huffed. “I’m sorry,” you tried instead.

“I already told you, you don’t need to apologize.”

“But… you’re mad at me,” you said weakly.

There was a beat of silence. “I’m… not,” Geta replied; not very convincingly, in your opinion.

“Look, (Y/N), why don’t you just come over?” Caracalla suggested. 

“Why, Cara, so you can rub it in my face in person?” Geta spat. 

Your stomach flipped. “What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing,” Geta said. There was another beat of silence, and you really wished you could see them. “Come over, or don’t, I don’t care. I’m leaving.” 

“Geta,” Caracalla groaned. “Don’t be difficult.”

“Me being difficult!” Geta scoffed. “That’s rich.” 

“Guys…”

“Come over, (Y/N),” Caracalla suggested again. “Please?” 

You exhaled slowly from your nose and shut your eyes tight. Were you really considering it? The brothers were waiting silently for your answer. “…Okay.”

Caracalla laughed triumphantly. “See you soon,” he purred, waiting for you to say bye before hanging up.

You trudged to your car, stopping to look at your reflection in the driver’s side window. You didn’t look awful, and that would have to be good enough; if you went back inside to change, you would lose your nerve and stay there.

You were tense the entire drive to the twins’ house. You tried to cut some of the tension by listening to music, but you couldn’t focus, too wrapped up in the nerves that churned your stomach. You pulled into the driveway and noticed Geta’s car was still there. That was a good sign, right? Maybe he genuinely wanted to talk it out.

Caracalla opened the front door as soon as you stepped out of your car, and he bounded down the steps to meet you. “You made it,” he relished and greeted you with a kiss to your cheek. 

You blushed, eyes darting to the open door. Geta stood there, leaning against the frame, his arms crossed over his chest. Even in the dark, you could see the frown that marred his pretty face. He turned and went inside. 

“C’mon,” Caracalla urged, his hand on your lower back. “He wants to talk, I promise.” 

You swallowed hard and nodded, letting Caracalla lead you inside. Geta was on the antique sofa, legs crossed at the knee and arms still crossed over his chest. If you looked up ‘closed off’ in the dictionary, he’d be the picture beside the definition. 

Caracalla pushed you encouragingly towards the sofa and you sank down beside Geta, sure you looked pathetic as you stared at him. 

Geta dragged his hand down his face and sighed heavily, but he turned to face you, his body language opening up a bit. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“I can’t help it,” you said, a little whine slipping into your voice. “I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you,” he sighed. Geta’s gaze slid to Caracalla, who took a seat on your other side. “Him, however…” 

“Well, don’t be mad at him either!” you protested. 

Caracalla leaned in to murmur in your ear, “It’s okay, I’m used to it.” 

“Why shouldn’t I be mad at him?” Geta wondered, his head tilting to the side as he returned his gaze to you. “He’s my brother. He knows that I…” He sighed and looked away. “Nevermind.”

“Stop doing that,” you pleaded, reaching out to grab his arm. “Just say what you’re going to say, stop cutting yourself off.” 

”You want me to speak my mind?” Geta clenched his jaw and looked at you, brown eyes bright with intensity. “Fine. He knows that I like you,” he said. “He knows that I’m attracted to you, and that I enjoy your company, and he still wants to fuck you, regardless. My brother is stupid and selfish, and you’re falling for it!” 

The emotions curling inside of you were… confusing. There was the shame, of course, but also the thrill of knowing Geta liked you back. “I… wouldn’t say I’m falling for it…”

Geta scoffed. “ Please ,” he groaned. “You’re playing right into his hands. It’s embarrassing, really.” 

You looked back at Caracalla, who simply shrugged. He looked thoroughly amused by Geta’s accusation, and you got the feeling this was not the first time they had had this fight. 

There was an undercurrent of anger in your mess of emotions that threatened to grow into a swell and sweep you under. You took a deep breath as you tried to collect yourself. Needing some space, you stood and walked over to the bookshelves that lined the walls. It was your turn to close yourself off, wrapping your arms around yourself in a hug as you tried to contain the bite in your words. ”Surely you realize that you’re both very attractive,” you muttered. “Your brother is much more… open about expressing his interest.” 

“But you and I, we have something,” Geta protested, standing as well. “Don’t deny it.”

“I wasn’t going to,” you said with a frown. “It’s just…” Your eyes strayed to Caracalla, who was currently splayed out on the couch, looking bored. When he saw you looking, he waved. You bit back a smile. “He’s very charming, Geta,” you managed, turning back to look at your classmate. 

“I am well aware of the charms my brother possesses,” Geta sighed. “And I’m tired of him taking what’s mine every single chance he gets.” 

A shiver ran through you, but you suppressed it. You couldn’t let Geta’s words slide. “Yours? Is that what I am?” you asked coolly.

Geta, sensing the shift in your mood, backpedaled. “No, of course not,” he stammered, “but… I saw you first.” 

You laughed, the sound sharp and harsh. “I can’t believe you just said that,” you marveled. “And I’m the embarrassing one? Because I decided to engage with Caracalla’s interest in me?” 

Geta’s eyebrows furrowed and he grimaced, a sharp exhale leaving his nose. “It isn’t fair,” he mumbled. 

“Oh my God , Geta,” you groaned. You dragged your hand down your face and shook your head. “At least he knows what he wants!”

“Well, what was I supposed to do?” Geta asked, his voice raising. “Pin you down and ravish you before he got the chance? I’m not an animal!”

“That, I’d like to see,” Caracalla chimed in. 

“Shut up , Caracalla,” Geta seethed. 

Caracalla cackled. An inconvenient pulse of arousal shot through you and you took a step back, Geta’s proximity suddenly reminding you too much of your dreams about him. “No,” you murmured. “I don’t know. Maybe.” 

“Listen, I don’t mind sharing—“

“Enough,” Geta hissed, cutting off his brother. “I do mind.”

Caracalla simply shrugged and smiled cutely at you.

You licked your lips, eyes darting from one brother to the other. “Right, well, as fun as this is,” you said dryly, “I don’t really feel like being the shiny new toy for you two to fight over, so maybe it’s better if I just—“

That got Caracalla on his feet. “Hold on,” he said, going to your side. “It isn’t like that.” 

“It feels like that, Caracalla,” you replied, eyeing him as he reached a hand out to touch you. You were so weak; you allowed him to pull you against his side, his arm snaking around your waist. When you glanced at Geta, his anger was evident in his eyes, even if he didn’t say anything. 

Your emotions finally overwhelmed you. It was too much to feel like you were upsetting both of them— there was a sudden wrenching in your chest that made you gasp and you pulled away from Caracalla, stumbling towards the door. “I need to go,” you croaked. 

“Wait—“ It was Geta that caught your arm this time. “Don’t,” he pleaded.

“I’m hurting you,” you said. “I don’t want to do that.” 

“It isn’t…“ Geta sighed. “It would hurt more if you left.” 

“ Why ?”

”At least if you’re here, with him, I still get to see you,” he admitted. 

You melted a little at that. “Geta…”

“I know,” sighed Geta. “It’s depressing, really.” 

You didn’t think, you just pulled him into a hug. Geta was stiff against you, but he relaxed eventually, and even hugged you back. “I like you a lot,” you admitted softly.

“Don’t tell me that. Not if you’re just going to end up with him.”

“Well, I—!” You pulled away from him and huffed softly. “I don’t know,” you said. “I feel bad for not giving you a proper chance, but…” You looked back at Caracalla, who was watching you thoughtfully. 

“I know,” Caracalla mused with a playful pout. “I’m too enthralling.” 

Geta sighed and rolled his eyes. 

“Like I said,” continued Caracalla, “I don’t mind sharing. If you’re okay with being shared, that is.”

You bit your bottom lip, mulling over the thought. “I… don’t know,” you said. “I’ve never been shared before.” 

“Think about it,” Caracalla mused. 

Geta had yet to say anything— he just kept staring at you with his big, unsettling, brown eyes. 

When you took a step back, Caracalla was there, his arms wrapping around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder. “Now, if that’s all settled,” he purred, “I’d love to show you my room.”

Geta scoffed. “You’re disgusting,” he spat at his brother. “You can’t think of anything besides sex for more than a minute.” 

You felt Caracalla shrug. “You ruined my plans for tonight, anyway,” he replied. “So, why shouldn’t I make up for it?”

“As tempting as that is, Cara,” you said, extracting yourself from his hold, “I think I’ll hold off.”

For the first time, he looked distraught. “What? Why?” 

“This is a lot to process,” you explained. “I need some time.”

Caracalla pouted. “What about Saturday? Are you still coming to the party with me?” He trailed after you as you backed towards the door. 

You glanced at Geta, who nodded subtly. “Saturday is still on,” you agreed. 

The twins stood side-by-side and watched you retreat with mirrored expressions of disappointment. “I’ll call you,” you assured them, not clarifying who you were talking to before you absconded. As soon as the door was closed behind you, you could hear their muffled voices start up an argument. 

Back in your car, you wondered what the fuck you had gotten yourself into. Being into two men at the same time wasn’t exactly unusual for you, but for them to be brothers (twins, no less!) AND both return your affections…

It was overwhelming.

When you returned hope and checked your phone, you saw you had two new text messages. 

Caracalla’s message read:

thx 4 tht <3 c u sat xx

Geta’s message had a little more meat to it, and the image of him typing all of this out on his little flip phone was very endearing to you.

I’m sorry for all of this. Thank you for your patience. I look forward to seeing you on Saturday.

You smiled, the confusing swirl of emotions in your stomach ebbing for the moment. Maybe you all would figure it out. Maybe there was something worth fighting for in the midst of all the uncertainty and discomfort. 

Chapter Text

Saturday arrived before you knew it. Thankfully, you had the day off, so you could spiral at home instead of at work. Your mind kept replaying your last visit with the twins over and over. You wanted them, so badly it was causing you physical discomfort, and you hated yourself for wanting them both. If it was just Geta or just Caracalla, you would be able to cut yourself some slack, but both? That felt greedy and wrong. 

As nine o’clock ticked closer, you seriously debated canceling, but you couldn’t make the leap. So, instead, you found yourself slipping into a too-tight dress and some strappy heels, getting ready for a night of poor decision-making. 

You arrived at the twins’ house at nine on the dot. To your surprise, it was Geta that opened the door. Your breath hitched at the sight of him. He looked… really fucking good. Geta was dressed in a black lace button up, the fabric dark enough to hide how sheer it was until you were up close and realized how much of his skin was actually visible. The top was tucked into black, high-waisted trousers, which he had belted with his cute bat belt. 

For a long minute, you both just stared at each other, until finally Geta cleared his throat and stepped aside to allow you inside. 

“You look… really good,” you managed to say as he shut the door behind you.

“You’re one to talk.”

It would be a miracle if you managed to get to the party without jumping his bones. You stepped into his personal space so you could trace the lace designs on his bicep. “Did you wear this for me?” you wondered. 

“Can’t I dress up for a party?” he asked, his voice rough and his eyes dark. 

“The party you’re only going to because of me,” you mused, biting back a smile. “Interesting.” 

Geta stepped close enough that you almost pressed against his chest, and you looked up at him. “What about you?” His hand ventured out and slid down your side, following the curve of your hip. “I can’t imagine this dress is just for drinking beer in some guy’s shitty basement.”

“I’m trusting your brother would take us somewhere a little more high class than that.”

“You never know with him,” he sighed. 

“It’s choice, I promise,” Caracalla assured you both as he entered the living room. He was dressed in a perfectly cropped muscle tee that made your mouth water, paired with baggy jeans slung low on his hips. A gold chain was draped around his neck, and you imagined it dangling in front of you as he fucked you. Caracalla grinned like he knew exactly what you were thinking and greeted you with a kiss to your cheek. “You look so fucking hot,” he murmured in your ear. 

Geta used his hand still resting on your hip to tug you closer and away from Caracalla. You nearly stumbled and had to put your hands on Geta’s chest to steady yourself. You were practically sandwiched between them, and your heart was pounding in your chest as you looked up at Geta. Fuck, but you wanted to kiss him. Caracalla’s hand pressing against your lower back made a shiver run through you, and you leaned back just enough that you could feel his fingertips start to dig into your skin. 

“I thought we were going to pregame,” you said, glancing at Caracalla over your shoulder. 

“Fuck yeah we are,” he answered with a grin. He placed both hands on your waist, guiding you away from his brother and towards the kitchen. On the kitchen counter was a line of bottles that hadn’t been there last time, cheap alcohol of every variety. “Take your pick. Let’s do shots.” 

You hummed and picked up the bottle of vodka, considering it before you handed it to Caracalla. “This.” 

“Good start,” he said approvingly. Caracalla got out two shot glasses and poured a shot for each of you. “Cheers.” 

You clinked your glass against his, hit the bottom against the counter, and then knocked back the shot. The vodka wasn’t terrible, just tasted a bit like nail polish remover, so you didn’t cringe, even when the burn set in. 

Caracalla hummed softly and poured two more shots. “Need a chaser?” he asked.

“Little late for that.”

He grinned. “Maybe,” he amended. Caracalla handed you the second shot, and you knocked it back like this first. You took a deep breath and shook out your shoulders. 

Just as you were wondering where Geta was, he appeared in the kitchen. You got all gooey inside at the sight of him, and you had to steady yourself against the kitchen counter. 

“Want one, Geta?” Caracalla asked.

“I’m driving,” he replied flatly. “No.” 

“Aw, c’mon,” Caracalla chided, “You’ve got the alcohol tolerance of a—“

“ No ,” Geta repeated. “Don’t even finish whatever inane analogy you were going to make.” He went to the fridge and retrieved an unmarked decanter of red liquid— maybe pomegranate juice? He poured himself a glass and joined you at the kitchen counter, standing close behind you. 

“Thank you for being such a dedicated designated driver,” you said, looking up at him. 

“I’m not risking your safety,” Geta said. 

“What about my safety?” Caracalla teased.

“I’d kill you now if I could,” sniffed Geta. “But I can’t.” 

Caracalla grinned. “You wound me, brother,” he mused. “But I appreciate your honesty.” 

“What is that?” you asked, leaning in the peer at his juice. “Can I have some?”

“You wouldn’t like it,” Geta answered. 

“That… doesn’t answer my question,” you said with a laugh. “Lemme try it!”

“No,” he said simply. When you tried to reach for his glass, he held it up, just high enough that you couldn’t get it. 

“Fine,” you scoffed and scooted away from him. “Mean.” You offered Caracalla your empty shot glass. “Pour me something different. I don’t care what.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Caracalla gave you a little salute before pouring you a shot of Fireball.

You let out a surprised laugh. “ Caracalla .”

“You said you didn’t care what!” he reasoned, passing the shot to you. “Bottoms up.” 

You rolled your eyes, but you did the shot. The heat of it made you cough and your eyes water. “Jesus,” you exhaled. “Might need a chaser for that.” You looked up at Geta with pleading eyes.

He shook his head. “Nice try.”

“Mean,” you repeated. You stalked over to the fridge and grabbed a soda, sipping it slowly so you didn’t get carbonation in your nose. “So, what’s the plan, Cara? You trying to get me shitfaced so we don’t actually have to leave?”

“How’d you guess?” he purred dryly. Caracalla closed the space between the two of you, catching you by the waist and plucking the soda from your hand so he could drink from it. “Got a nice buzz going?” asked Caracalla as he returned your soda. 

“I’m getting there,” you managed, feeling a bit weak at the knees at his proximity. 

“Want another shot?”

“Noooo,” you drawled unconvincingly, making Caracalla laugh. You jumped when you realized Geta was suddenly at your side, and you once again found yourself pinned between the twins. “Jesus, Geta.”

“Don’t make yourself sick just for his approval,” Geta advised. 

“So judgey,” you tutted. You leaned back against Geta’s chest and looked up at him, amused by the way his eyebrows raised in surprise. “You really are a protector, huh?” 

“Your safety is important to me,” he confirmed. 

“That’s sweet.” You handed your soda to Caracalla so you could turn to face Geta, resting your head on his shoulder. “You’re so sweet,” you sighed. 

“I think someone’s a little tipsy,” Caracalla mused. “We should head out soon.” 

You nodded against Geta’s shoulder and slung your arms around his neck, tilting your head back to look up at him. He was clearly fighting a smile, his lips pressed tight together and his eyes averted. “What?” you asked, eyes narrowed. 

Geta shook his head. “Nothing, nothing.” 

“Whaaaaat?” you whined, using your body weight to try and pull him down a little. Surprisingly, he didn’t budge. 

“Are you ready to go?” he asked, still refusing to smile. 

You sighed dramatically and dropped your arms. “Yeah, let’s fuckin’— yeah.” 

“You’re sitting in the front seat,” Geta told you as he ushered you towards the front door. 

“What? No,” Caracalla protested as he trailed behind you. 

“I’m not leaving you both in the back seat unsupervised.” Geta led you outside and opened the passenger door for you, taking your hand as you slid inside to keep you steady. 

Caracalla got in the back. You turned to look at him and smiled at his pout. “Don’t look so sad, Cara,” you cooed, reaching out to him. 

Caracalla took your hand and kissed it, his pout fading into a smile. “Can you blame me?” he asked. “I was hoping for some alone time with you.”

“It’s not alone time if I’m also here, Caracalla,” Geta seethed beside you.

“Yeah, but your eyes would be on the road, so same difference.” 

“And what would you do with your backseat alone time?” you purred. 

Caracalla got a mischievous glint in his eye and leaned in close. “I would tell you if I didn’t think Geta would jump out of his seat and throttle me.” 

“Why don’t you whisper it to me?” you suggested. 

“I’ll hear it,” Geta said before Caracalla could even open his mouth. 

“Maybe I should just climb back there and let him show me, then, since you won’t let him answer,” you hummed. 

Caracalla cackled. “I like that idea.” 

“Do you want to go to this party or not?” Geta shouted, clearly frustrated. 

You winced and nodded, sinking back into your seat.

“Then behave. Both of you.” 

Caracalla’s hand snaked around the edge of your seat and gave your arm a comforting squeeze. “Geta, you frightened her,” Caracalla scolded his brother. “Apologize.” 

Geta glanced your way, and you could see the frustration melt from his face, replaced by uncertainty. “Did I scare you?” he asked.

“I was just surprised that you yelled, that’s all,” you said. In truth, he had scared you a little, though you didn’t know how Caracalla knew that. Maybe it was how fast you returned to your seat? Either way, the fear faded quickly, and Caracalla’s cool hand on your arm grounded you, dissipating any remaining anxiety. You covered his hand with yours. 

“I’m sorry,” Geta apologized weakly. “I wasn’t thinking.” 

“I forgive you,” you hummed. “Though I might be a tad more forgiving if you let me…” You trailed off as Caracalla burst into giggles. 

Geta scoffed, though he cracked a smile, too. “Whatever you think he can provide for you, he can’t,” Geta remarked. “Caracalla’s far too selfish.”

“For most things, yeah, but not orgasms,” Caracalla purred. “I give that shit out like candy on Halloween.” 

A rush of heat ran through you, aided by the alcohol dilating your blood vessels. “See, Geta?” you said with a laugh. “I’ll be in good hands.” 

Geta’s grip tightened around the steering wheel as Caracalla giggled. “He’d rather have you in his hands, (Y/N),” Caracalla supplied. 

You sighed through your nose and leaned your head back, sure you would be giving Geta quite an eyeful if he chose to look at you. Your dress did very little to hide your cleavage, the neckline plunging low enough that the lace decorating your bra cups was visible. “If only he’d say as much,” you lamented. 

Geta growled. “You’ll get an earful as soon as I’m not driving this car,” he promised. 

Another delicious wave of heat rolled through you and you clenched your thighs together, wishing you had worn something a little more substantial than a lace thong. You had the embarrassing thought that if the twins continued to tease you so, you’d soak through it. “Can’t wait,” you rasped. 

A simmering tension settled over the car, making you fidget in your seat. You needed to touch, or maybe be touched; either way, you were ready to crawl out of your skin. “How much longer?” you asked, trying to keep the whine from your voice.

“Nearly there,” Geta assured you. 

You glanced back at Caracalla, who was slumped in the back seat, and he gave you a little wave. You waved back. “How’d you hear about this party, by the way?” 

Caracalla shrugged. “A friend of mine is throwing it. He’s a DJ.” 

“You have a friend who’s a DJ?” you mused.

“Caracalla has many, many friends,” Geta sighed. “All of whom are abnormal and off-putting.” 

Caracalla grinned, his golden tooth glinting in the light of a passing street lamp. “Geta’s just jealous, as per usual.” 

Geta let out a long suffering sigh. “How you have any friends at all is a mystery to me,” he muttered. 

“They just want me for my body,” Caracalla sighed. “Just like (Y/N).” 

You burst into laughter, covering your mouth with your hand to stifle it. 

“Am I wrong?” he asked, also laughing. 

“I wouldn’t say I only want you for your body—“

“But it helps, right?” 

“It helps,” you confirmed with a nod. “It really, really helps.” 

Though Geta did not interject during this exchange, the disgusted sneer on his face was enough to tell you exactly how he felt. 

Feeling bold, you reached out and placed your hand on Geta’s thigh. His gaze darted down and then fixed quickly back on the road. “If it makes you feel any better, I want you for your body, too,” you said. 

Geta actually laughed, which made your heart jump into your throat. “You know, somehow it does,” he mused. “Just a little.” 

You grinned. “You have a cute laugh,” you told him. “I wish you’d do it more.”

“What about my cute laugh?” Caracalla interjected. 

“You have a terrible laugh,” Geta called back. “So high and grating—”

You smacked Geta’s chest. “Don’t be mean,” you scolded. You leaned away from Geta and glanced back at Caracalla. “I like your laugh, too, Cara.” 

He pouted. “Do you see how mean he is to me, (Y/N)?” Caracalla sniffled. 

“Oh, please ,” Geta sighed. “You’ve said worse things to me when we’re alone.” 

“I would never!”

You sighed and slumped back in your seat. “Brothers,” you murmured. “Why did it have to be brothers?” 

“Lamenting your choices, (Y/N)?” Geta asked dryly.

“Me? No, that can’t be it,” you mused. “Clearly, I only make great decisions.” 

That made Caracalla cackle. “You do,” he assured you. “I’ll prove it.” Caracalla leaned forward in his seat and pointed out the windshield. “Look, we’re here!” 

The car rolled past a large warehouse with a line of people outside the door. Through the murky warehouse windows, you could see the flash of multi-colored lights. “Wow,” you muttered. “I didn’t realize this is what you meant when you said a party.”

“One night only,” Caracalla supplied. “And we’re on the VIP list.” 

Geta parked the car on a side street. Caracalla beat him to the punch and opened your door for you, flashing his brother a triumphant grin as you took Caracalla’s hand. Geta simply sighed and locked the car. 

You tried not to wobble in your heels as you walked towards the warehouse, but the sidewalk wasn’t exactly even and you were still feeling the effects of your pregaming. You held onto Caracalla’s arm for balance. His skin was cool beneath yours, but not unpleasantly so. It just felt like he needed a jacket. You rubbed his bicep, hoping to warm him up a little. “Was it chilly in the backseat?” you asked. 

“It was,” he agreed. “You should sit in the back with me on the way home to keep me warm.” 

You laughed. “You just don’t quit, huh?”

“I’m relentless,” Caracalla assured you with a grin. 

You looked over your shoulder to try and locate Geta, and then he was at your side, startling you. “You’re so quiet,” you gasped. “How do you do that?”

“I think you’re just drunk,” Geta mused. You were very surprised he placed his hand on your lower back. 

You leaned into his touch. “I am not,” you protested. “I’m hardly even buzzed!”

“Uh-huh.” 

Before you could protest further, Caracalla dragged you to the front of the line. The bouncer eyed him skeptically, but all Caracalla had to do was tell him his name and you were ushered inside; no need for ID or anything. 

The music was loud when you stepped inside, the bass thrumming through your body and leaving you breathless. There was a stage set up on the far wall with a DJ holding court— Caracalla’s friend, maybe? Caracalla bounced eagerly beside you and pulled you towards the dancefloor where a mass of bodies was already writhing. Before you could get too far, you grabbed Geta’s arm, pulling him along with you. He didn’t even stumble, the graceful bastard. 

On the dancefloor, you found yourself sandwiched by the twins yet again, with Caracalla to your front, urging you to dance with him, and Geta at your back, holding your waist so you couldn’t stray too far and get lost in the crowd. Delight bubbled up in your chest as you danced, and everything suddenly made sense. This was where you were meant to be. The uncertainty, the angst, it all faded away, replaced with a euphoria that grew with every touch of Geta’s hand and sway of Caracalla’s hips. 

When your side started to stitch and your breathing was getting a little labored, you pulled away from the brothers. “Need a break,” you explained, trying to be heard above the music. 

Caracalla gave you a thumbs up and kept dancing. Geta trailed after you as you left the dancefloor and headed towards a bar. He really did make you feel safe, and as you stood at the bar, waiting to be served, you leaned against Geta’s chest. Somehow, he was still cool to the touch, and it soothed your flushed skin. When the bartender came to take your order, you asked for a cocktail and turned to see if Geta wanted anything. When he shook his head, you also asked for a bottle of water. The bartender was quick with your order, and Geta handed over his card before you could even reach for your wallet. 

You and Geta retreated to a sequestered high-top table in the corner. You leaned in close so you didn’t have to yell, curling your hand around his bicep to keep him where you wanted. “What was that about?” you asked. 

“My treat,” he replied simply. 

“You weren’t even the one who invited me,” you said with a laugh. 

Geta shrugged and smiled down at you. “So?”

You sighed through your nose and shook your head. “Thank you,” you said before sipping your drink. You pushed the water bottle towards him. “Drink.” 

“I’m okay.”

“ Geta. ”

Geta laughed softly, but he picked up the bottle and opened it, taking the tiniest sip you had ever seen before offering it to you. You huffed, but you didn’t refuse the bottle, instead drinking from it deeply in hopes of lowering your chances of a hangover the next morning. 

Once your drink was finished, you tried to head back to the dancefloor, but Geta stopped you. You looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. He looked terribly solemn all of a sudden. “What’s wrong?” you called. 

“We should stay here,” he suggested. “Rest a little more.” 

“What?” you asked with a laugh. “I’m fine, Geta, let’s get back to Cara.” 

Geta begrudgingly followed you back to the dancefloor, keeping hold of your hand so you didn’t lose him. You searched for Caracalla, bobbing your head to the beat as you scanned the faces around you. You spotted his flaming hair and made a beeline for him, but you stopped short as you realized he was interlocked with someone else. Your heart dropped, your stomach churned, and for a moment you were worried you were going to faint as you took in the sight of him making out with another man. Caracalla’s hands gripped the other man’s face as he kissed him passionately, his tongue delving into the other man’s mouth.  

Geta tugged you away, and you allowed him to lead you out of the warehouse entirely. He brought you through a side door, near the table you had been at, and the alley it opened into was fairly empty, with the exception of a small group of smokers huddled together chatting. Geta guided you to the wall, urging you to lean against it. He eyed you nervously, clearly trying to catch your gaze, but you couldn’t bear to look at him. 

“(Y/N)—”

“Am I stupid?” you asked, tears threatening to spill and making your voice hitch. 

“No, sweetheart, you aren’t stupid,” Geta cooed. He pulled you into a hug and that broke the dam, making a sob tear from your chest. Geta rubbed your back as you cried against his shoulder. 

“I thought he liked me,” you warbled. “He was very explicit about it!”

“He does like you,” Geta assured you. “He’s just…” He sighed. “I’m not sure I can explain it.” 

You looked up at him, sure you looked pathetic with your mascara running and your lip trembling. Geta tutted and frowned. He brought his hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away your tear tracks. “Did I misread something?” you asked. “Or miss a cue?”

He shook his head. “Caracalla doesn’t think about human emotions like we do,” he sighed. “I know for a fact he wasn’t thinking beyond the immediate urge he felt. He’s impulsive, (Y/N), he doesn’t care .” 

You hiccuped. “But…?”

“But what, sweetheart?” Geta prodded. 

“He invited me…” You sniffled and wiped hastily at your tears. “I know it’s stupid to be upset about this,” you laughed miserably, “but I just—”

“It isn’t stupid,” Geta protested. 

“Well, it’s hypocritical at the very least.”

Geta rolled his eyes. “Why are you being mean to yourself?” he asked. “Be mean to him, instead.”

“I don’t want to be mean to him,” you said weakly.

“Why not? He deserves it,” scoffed Geta. “It’s all a game to him, (Y/N). He’s a spoiled brat who thinks with his dick first and his brain never.” He cupped your face with both hands and coaxed you closer so he could kiss your forehead. “You deserve better than that.” 

You fell against his chest and hugged him tightly, trying to breathe through the new wave of tears that threatened to spill. “Thank God your shirt is black,” you croaked with a laugh. “Otherwise you’d have stains.” 

“I don’t care about that,” Geta said. He rested his chin on top of your head. “I’m sorry he ruined your night.” 

“S’okay,” you mumbled. 

“No. It isn’t.” Geta sighed and released you, though he placed his hands on your arms so you couldn’t go far. “This is exactly what I was worried about,” he muttered. 

“Does he do this often?” you asked weakly. 

“He’s fickle,” Geta answered vaguely. “Don’t take it personally, (Y/N), it has nothing to do with you. He wanted something and he took it.” 

“He could have just come found us,” you said with a frown. “I would’ve kissed him.”

Geta bit back a smile. “It’s a little more than that,” he said.

“Is he gay?”

Geta threw his head back and laughed. 

“What?” you whined. “It’s not funny, Geta!”

He shook his head, clearly trying to stifle his laughter for your sake. “It’s not funny,” he agreed. “But asking if he’s gay after all the things he’s said to you… You have to admit, that’s a little funny.” 

“That’s why I’m so confused!” you lamented. 

“Caracalla’s never been one for labels, but I think he’s bisexual,” Geta mused. “He’s very… open.”

“Understatement, clearly,” you mumbled. 

Geta squeezed your arms and released you. “What do you want to do now?” he asked. “You want me to take you home?”

“What about Caracalla?”

“Fuck him,” he scoffed. “It’s his own fault if he’s stranded here.” Geta’s eyes flickered over your form. “Especially considering what he had available to him…”

You flushed, your hurt momentarily sidetracked by the want in Geta’s expression. You were about to say something in reply when your phone buzzed. You looked at it and grimaced when you saw it was a text from Caracalla. 

where r u guyz??

miss u :(( 

You sighed and showed Geta your phone screen. He sneered as he read the texts. “Let’s ditch him,” he decided. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed. 

You looked up as the door opened and Caracalla stumbled outside. You were alarmed to find there was blood on his shirt. He grinned when he spotted you rushing up to him. “Hey, baby, I was looking for you,” cooed Caracalla. “What’re you doing out here?” His words were slurred, and he looked significantly more drunk than he had before. You hadn’t left him alone for that long— how did he get so fucked up?

“We’re mad at you,” Geta sniffed, coming up behind you as you inspected Caracalla for any sign of injury. You turned his head from side to side, but you couldn’t see anything— no bloody nose, no split lip, nothing that would indicate he got into a fight. Where had the blood come from?

“Are you okay?” you gasped. 

“Better now,” purred Caracalla, sliding his arm around your waist and tugging you closer. You fought against his hold, and before you could stop yourself, you slapped him across the face. 

A hiss of ‘ooh’s erupted from the group of smokers before they went back to chatting amongst themselves. 

“What was that for?” Caracalla asked, cupping his cheek as he looked at you with big eyes. 

“She saw you,” Geta answered for you. He gave Caracalla a meaningful look and the ruddiness in Caracalla’s cheeks drained away. 

“(Y/N)—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted. “I’m in no mood to hear whatever bullshit excuse you have.” You moved around him and stomped out of the alley. The twins followed behind you. 

Caracalla had to jog to catch up with you as you walked with purpose to the car. “Wait a minute, (Y/N), you don’t get it,” he tried. 

“I don’t want to get it, Caracalla,” you shot back. “That was shitty. Surely you know that.” 

“It didn’t mean anything.”

That made you stop short, and he nearly crashed into you as you whirled around to face him. “Do you think I’m an idiot, Caracalla?” you asked coldly. 

His eyes widened in surprise. “No, of course I—”

“Then stop treating me like it,” you barked. You took a deep breath. “Look. We hardly know each other, you don’t owe me shit, I get it. It’s not like I was looking for you to be monogamous—” Your eyes strayed to Geta. Obviously, monogamy wasn’t your main priority, either. “—but at least do me the courtesy of not fucking with my head.”  

Caracalla whined your name. “ Please , let me explain,” he begged. 

“Consider your next words carefully, brother,” Geta warned. 

Caracalla hesitated, and you rolled your eyes. “Whatever,” you muttered. You continued to the car. When you got to it, you pulled impatiently at the door handle. Geta didn’t unlock the car. You tugged again. 

“Take a deep breath,” Geta advised, leaning against your side of the car, blocking your view of his brother. 

“I don’t want to,” you said petulantly. “I want to go home.” 

Geta took your hands in his and took a deep breath to show you what to do. You rolled your eyes, but when he did it again, you did it with him. “Good,” he praised, squeezing your hands. 

“I thought you wanted me to be mad at him.”

“I do,” he said, “and you should be. But, he’s also…” Geta glanced over his shoulder, and you followed his gaze, taking in the way Caracalla’s eyes were filling with tears. 

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” you huffed. 

“I’m really sorry,” Caracalla croaked. 

“You’re ridiculous,” you spat over Geta’s shoulder, even as your heart softened at the sight of him. “Why are you crying? You chose to kiss that guy, Caracalla! I’m supposed to feel bad for you now because you don’t know how to keep it in your pants?”

“I was hungry,” Caracalla whined. 

“...That’s such a gross way of putting it,” you sneered, face contorting with disgust. 

Caracalla moved closer until he was right behind Geta and he looked at you over Geta’s shoulder with puppy-dog eyes. “I’m really, really sorry, (Y/N), I swear to God it won’t happen again!”

You remained stonily silent and turned your head so you didn’t have to look at him. Geta nudged his brother back and finally unlocked the car, opening the passenger door for you. 

“You were going to sit in the back seat with me,” whined Caracalla.

Geta shut the door for you once you were seated inside and buckled in. “She’s clearly still mad at you,” he sighed, slightly muffled with the door closed. “She doesn’t want to sit with you.” 

“But I said I was sorry!”

“Oh my God,” Geta groaned, “just shut up and get in the car.” 

You remained facing forward with your arms crossed over your chest as Caracalla slid into the back, though you couldn’t help but glance at him in the rearview mirror. He was looking at you miserably, and your heart lurched treasonously. Being pissed did not mean you didn’t like him anymore… and as the initial anger faded, you began to think that maybe there really was a reason behind his actions that you didn’t understand. Otherwise, why would he look so devastated that you were upset with him? If he didn’t like you, surely he wouldn’t give a shit if you found out or not. 

Throughout the drive back to the twins’ house, your anger morphed into a mix of guilt and insecurity. You glanced at Caracalla often in the mirror, each time your heart softening a little more. By the time Geta pulled into the driveway, you were ready to forgive him, or at the very least hear his side of the story. When you got out of the car, you faced Caracalla, your arms still over your chest, and jutted your chin out at him. “What’s your excuse?” you sighed. 

Hope crashed across Caracalla’s face like a wave and he managed a smile. “Are you still mad at me?” he asked. 

“Yes,” you said, “but I wanna know what you were thinking.”

Geta steered both of you towards the house. “Let’s get inside before we start this conversation,” he advised. You were ushered into the house and Geta deposited you on the couch, retreating to the kitchen before he returned with a glass of water for you. 

Caracalla sank into a chair across from you, still looking at you with pleading, watery eyes. You drank deeply from the water Geta brought you before you waved him on. “Go,” you ordered. 

“I want you to know that I like you so much,” he started, and unfortunately, you believed him. 

“So why makeout with some random dude on the dancefloor when I was right there?”

“It’s… complicated,” Caracalla said, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“If you’re gay, that’s fine, but I don’t get why you would make such a big deal about saying you want to fuck me,” you whined. “It’s confusing! Like, you have me wondering if I was misreading things, but you were so clear , Caracalla. Make it make sense.” 

“That’s because I do,” he assured you with a soft laugh. “I want to fuck you so badly, I can taste it.” 

You made a noise of confusion. “Then help me understand,” you pleaded. 

“I really don’t want to hurt you—”

“A little late for that,” you interrupted with an annoyed huff. 

Caracalla grimaced. “I know, I know, but I mean… physically.”

You crinkled your nose. “What do you mean by that?” 

“You look so good tonight,” he breathed. “Have I told you that?”

You huffed, frustrated. “Don’t try to flatter me right now.” 

“I’m not, I’m not, I’m trying to explain .” Caracalla ran his hand through his hair and let out a frustrated huff of his own. “I need to be able to restrain myself, and in order to restrain myself, I needed a snack.” 

“Again, really gross way to describe people!” You stood up. “I can’t listen to this anymore, I’m going home.” 

Geta straightened from where he was leaning against the wall. “Hold on now,” he said soothingly. “You’re still intoxicated.” 

“I have never been more sober,” you argued. 

Geta tutted and shook his head. “Not a safe choice.” 

“Geta, I’m not a child,” you scoffed. “I can—” You cut yourself off as he took you by the shoulders and guided you back to the couch. His behavior left no room for argument, and you resented him a little for it. “You’re both the worst,” you muttered. 

Caracalla got up and fell to his knees in front of you. “You make me so hungry,” he explained unhelpfully. “I look at you and I get this feeling like I haven’t eaten in days.” 

“That’s weird, Caracalla.” 

“I know ,” he whined, “but I can’t help that, (Y/N), it’s just how I was made.” 

You glanced up at Geta, hoping for a little more context, but he simply shrugged. “He’s right,” said Geta. 

You looked back at Caracalla and frowned. “I don’t know that this was helpful,” you managed. 

“I could make it make more sense,” he said, “but Geta won’t let me.” 

“What?” You looked up at Geta and furrowed your eyebrows. “Why?” 

“He knows why,” Geta said. 

“That is—! So not helpful!” You huffed and stood, making Caracalla fall back. “You’re both assholes, how about that?” you decided. “That makes it all make sense.” 

As you walked to the door, Caracalla suddenly appeared in your path. You stumbled back. You hadn’t seen him stand up— how had he gotten there so fast? 

“Caracalla, don’t,” Geta barked. 

“I’m really sorry about this,” Caracalla said to you. 

You felt a spike of fear as he stalked towards you. “What—?” You were cut off by your own gasp as Caracalla grabbed you and tugged you against his body. You fought against him, but his grip was like a vice, impossible for you to escape no matter how much you struggled. You heard a strange, wet noise as he lowered his head to the crook of your neck, and then you felt a sharp pain as he bit you. The fear was overwhelming when combined with the pain of his bite. Cold surged through your body as your blood pressure bottomed out, despite your racing heart, and you fainted. 

Chapter Text

You woke up freezing cold and panting. Your body was shaking violently, even though you were underneath a blanket. You felt a pressure on your leg and groggily raised your head, trying to focus on the figure beside you. “Caracalla?” you croaked. 

“Caracalla’s in time out,” Geta said, and you couldn’t decipher if he was being sarcastic or not. 

You blinked and lifted a heavy hand to rub your eyes. When you looked at him again, you could see Geta more clearly, especially when he leaned in to brush your hair back from your face. “What happened?” you muttered, catching his hand before he could pull it back. Geta allowed you to thread your fingers together, a soft smile playing on his lips. 

“What do you remember?” he asked. 

“I was going to leave and then—” You winced as you tried to sit up, and you let go of his hand so you could press your palm against the sharp pain in your neck. “Fuck, did I fall or something?” 

Geta was silent for a beat too long. “No,” he finally said. “Not exactly.” 

“Then what?” You pulled your hand back and hissed at the sight of blood on your skin. “Geta?” you asked, your voice raising as panic set in. “Am I bleeding?”

“No, you’re not,” he assured you, shuffling closer to you. “Not anymore. You’re okay, I’m here.” Geta plucked some tissues from a box on a table and used them to wipe away the blood on your neck and shoulder. 

Tears pricked your eyes as you looked up at him. Your head felt so foggy. “Was I drugged at the club or something?” you squeaked. “Why can’t I remember?” 

Geta grimaced. “No, no,” he said. “You…” He sighed heavily. “Caracalla bit you.”

“Bit me?” you repeated, startled. “That’s so fucking weird, why would he—?”

“I need you to think for a minute,” Geta interrupted. “Think really hard.” 

“I don’t want to think really hard,” you whined. “My head hurts.”

“I know, sweetheart, I’m sorry, but I can’t say it.” 

“Why not??”

“It’s… a really long story,” Geta sighed. “But I can’t tell you until you figure it out.” 

“That’s stupid,” you whined again. 

“I know.” He brushed your hair back again and cupped your face. You leaned into his hand, the cold nice against your flushed cheek. 

Cold…

 They were both always cold. The comments about hunger. Caracalla fucking bit you. 

“No,” you said, your eyes widening. “No, you’re teasing me! This can’t—”

Geta nodded eagerly. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he coaxed. 

“This isn’t funny, Geta,” you croaked. “He can’t really be…”

“It’s not just him,” he admitted. 

“No!” You lashed out, and he caught your weak hit before it could connect. “This is so fucked up,” you hiccupped. 

“I know, I know,” Geta cooed softly. “I just need you to say it, and we’ll talk about it.” 

You grimaced. “You’re… vampires,” you murmured. 

Geta let out a deep, satisfied breath, leaning back to run his hand through his hair. “Yes,” he breathed. “We’re vampires.”

“Vampires aren’t real, Geta,” you protested. “If this is like a freaky goth thing—”

“It isn’t,” he interrupted. Geta took your hand and leaned in close, opening his mouth. “Just look.” 

You watched as two fangs broke through his gums, right above his canine teeth, and extended like cat claws, curved and sharp. Your hand shook as you reached out and touched his fang at his insistence. It just felt like another tooth, though it had a wicked point at the end. “What the fuck…” You snatched your hand back when his fangs suddenly retracted. You glanced up at his eyes and felt a stab of fear at the ring of red that enclosed and bled into his iris. As you watched, that vanished too, and he just looked like Geta again. 

“Are you going to kill me?” you asked, voice wavering as another bolt of fear shot through you. 

“No, I’m not,” he answered. “I don’t want to hurt you at all. I didn’t even want to tell you…”

A twinge of disappointment mixed in with your fear. “Why?” You couldn’t help the little whine that slipped into your voice. 

Geta smiled. “Not because I don’t like you,” he said, answering your unspoken question. “The burden of knowledge is heavy. You should not have to carry my secret.” 

“Well… I don’t mind,” you said weakly. “I’m nosy. I like secrets.” 

Geta laughed, and your fear ebbed away. He was still Geta; knowing more about him didn’t change who he was, nor did it change the fact that you felt fundamentally safe in his presence. 

A soft knock drew your attention to the door. You realized two things at once: you were in Geta’s bedroom, and the fresh blood staining Caracalla’s shirt was yours. 

“Go change,” Geta ordered, not even looking at his brother. 

“No, no, it’s okay,” you said. You reached out a hand towards him and Caracalla tripped over himself as he hurried to you. He crawled onto the bed on your other side and took your proffered hand, pressing a kiss to it. 

“(Y/N), I am so, so sorry,” he rushed out. “I didn’t know what else to do. You were so upset, and I couldn’t tell you the truth—” 

You shushed him softly. “It’s okay, Caracalla.” 

Caracalla shook his head quickly. “No, it isn’t. I should’ve been more aware, I should’ve thought , but Geta’s right, I’m too impulsive. I was really hungry, and I knew I didn’t want to hurt you, so I just grabbed the nearest willing person,” he explained. “I didn’t think you would see, since you were with Geta. It was stupid. I’m stupid.” 

“Cara, stop,” you sighed. “Come here.” You waved him closer and wrapped your arm around his waist. He settled against the pillows and you curled up against him, resting your head on his shoulder. You gestured for Geta to join in, too, and he sat on your other side stiffly. You grabbed Geta’s hand and tugged him closer so he was almost spooning you. Geta relaxed. 

Caracalla was actually warm for once, and though you enjoyed snuggling up to him, you grimaced when you remembered the reason he was warm was your blood circulating in his body. 

“You have questions,” Geta observed. 

“So many,” you agreed. 

“Ask them.”

You sighed softly. “Where to start?” You nuzzled into Caracalla’s shoulder to get comfier and he wrapped his arms around you, a soft, concerned sound leaving his throat that made you hold onto him a little tighter. “What can you do?” you finally decided. 

“What do you mean?” Caracalla asked in return. 

“Like… are you super strong? Super fast? Immortal?”

“Yes,” Geta answered. “To all.” 

You glanced at him over your shoulder. “Is there more?”

He nodded. “Lots.” 

“Do you guys watch vampire movies?” you asked suddenly. “How accurate are they?”

“I don’t,” Geta sighed. “Caracalla does .”

“I love them,” Caracalla confirmed with a grin. “It depends on the movie, though. They’ve all got a little bit of truth to them, but none of them are ever fully right.” 

“Huh.” You hummed as you tried to organize your thoughts. “What about the Sun?”

“Bram Stoker was right in Dracula,” Caracalla supplied. “It weakens us, but we won’t burn like an Anne Rice vampire, or sparkle like Twilight.”

“Aw, man,” you murmured. “I guess that means I’ll never hear you say, ‘this is the skin of a killer, (Y/N).’” 

“I can still say that, if you want,” Caracalla mused, making you laugh. “Anything you want, baby.” 

Geta scoffed. His jealousy must have been back in full swing now that you had seemingly forgiven his brother, because he curled close enough to spoon you for real. You shuffled back a little so your back was against his chest and coaxed his arm further around your waist. 

“How did you, um…” You hesitated. “Would it be triggering if I asked how you became vampires? I’m guessing it wasn’t exactly sunshine and rainbows.” 

“The opposite of those things,” Caracalla confirmed. “Darkness, and more darkness.” 

Geta sighed heavily and rested his chin on your shoulder so he could look at his brother. “Do you want me to tell it?” he asked. 

“I’ll mess it up,” Caracalla agreed. “You go.” 

Geta nodded. “Well, it happened almost… eighteen hundred years ago.”

“What?” you squawked. “How fucking old are you?”

“Don’t interrupt,” Caracalla chided playfully. “We’re old.” 

“Sorry,” you muttered. “Continue, Geta.”

“The year was 196 A.D….”

Chapter Text

196 A.D.

“I have come to think of you, not as a subject, but as a true friend.”

That had been Geta’s first mistake. The minute those words had left his mouth, Macrinus was primed and ready to take advantage of him and his brother. 

The twins had been shaken by Acacius and Lucilla’s betrayal, and being shaken had made them vulnerable. When the people rioted— and of course they had rioted, Geta could see now he had done everything wrong— Macrinus had promised to make it all go away; Geta foolishly believed him. 

Macrinus had turned Caracalla first, plying him with soft words and barbs against his brother before draining him to the point of death. Then, Macrinus had set upon Geta. Geta was stronger than his brother, always had been, and he fought the transformation ruthlessly, but it was useless, in the end. By the break of dawn, the twins were dead and Macrinus could bend them to his will without even trying. There was no longer a need for trickery or manipulation on Macrinus’ part— siring the twins meant they would be his to puppeteer for eternity.

Or so he thought.

The thing about Rome that Macrinus seemed to grasp but not fully understand was that the people were strong. Even with all of the twins’ debauchery and corruption, the people of Rome knew they had power in their numbers, and the gladiators were no different.

When Macrinus had seized the throne, assuring the twins it was for the best, Lucius Verus had been there to strike him down, backed by the other gladiators and the legion of Rome.

Their sire dead and their doom impending, the twins could finally read the writing on the walls. They got the fuck out of Rome.

Going from emperors to nomads in a mere number of hours had been… difficult, to say the least. Thankfully, without their usual entourage or pomp and circumstance, the twins were near unrecognizable to the people of Rome. Besides their vague similarity to the heads printed on the coinage and their flaming red hair, they could slip unnoticed through the cities, townships, and farms that made up the majority of Rome. The further they got from the capitol, the less likely people were to question their appearances. 

When faced with the edge of the empire, Geta wavered. During their short stint as Emperors, the twins had done everything they could to continue the expansion of Rome. Finally reaching the end of that had felt like simultaneous failure and relief. They had camped on the edge of the empire for a long time, draining locals when they could and farm animals when they couldn’t, just because Geta had not been ready to make the leap into the unknown. 

It was only when Caracalla had gotten bored and demanded they move on that their true nomadic stage had begun. They rarely stayed anywhere for more than a night or two, always walking, walking, walking. It felt like they walked for three hundred years (though Caracalla swears that’s an exaggeration). 

To say the twins had been all over the globe was not an overstatement. When you had eternity suddenly at your fingertips, it was hard to stay localized to one region. They had been to every continent populated by people, made thousands upon thousands of mistakes, and somehow managed to continue witnessing history being made. When humans started documenting and disseminating their own histories, Geta decided to become a scholar of such things— and why not? He certainly had enough time on his hands.

Caracalla, conversely, preferred the act of actually talking to and engaging with the humans. Wherever they traveled, if there was a party or celebration to be found, Caracalla would find it and manage to weasel his way into the throng. 

Decades passed, then centuries, then somehow a millenia had come and gone. Some nights passed slowly; others were gone in a wink. Always new people, new places to go.

What Geta hadn’t counted on was the loneliness. He had always been lonely, even with Caracalla perpetually by his side, but the curse seemed to only enhance such feelings of complete and total isolation. Geta was thankful for his twin, of course, and loved him more dearly than he loved himself, but it felt as if there was something missing. He was close with his twin, as all twins were, but Geta never felt understood by Caracalla, not truly. 

The isolation was draining, much more than the curse could be, and there were times when Geta slept for years at a time just to escape it— Caracalla had not been exaggerating when he said Geta slept through the 80s. 

Education helped. It seemed there was always more to learn, and going to classes, meeting other students and connecting with people genuinely fascinated by history as he was— it helped. 

It helped more now that he had you. 

You flushed at the end of Geta’s explanation. “I make you feel less lonely?” you asked.

He nodded, looking shy. 

A swell of affection bloomed in your chest. “That’s really sweet, Geta.” 

“I know it’s… fast,” he ventured, “but I can tell we’re kindred spirits. You understand me better than anyone else ever has.”

“In almost two thousand years, I’m the one who’s understood you best?” you mused dryly. “Huh.”

“I know,” Geta sighed, rolling onto his back and dragging his hand down his face. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” you corrected. “But it is sad.”

Geta huffed. “I’m just trying to be honest.” 

“How do you know I understand you?” you asked. “It’s not like we’ve had any majorly deep conversations.”

Geta hesitated, his expression turning almost guilty, and you crinkled your nose. 

“What?” you prodded. You filed through all the information you knew about vampires, trying to add some context to his expression. You groaned when you realized what it might be. “Don’t tell me you can read my mind.”

Geta grimaced. “Alright, I won’t tell you.” 

You looked at Caracalla and he nodded. “I can, too,” he said with a grin. “When you saw me for the first time, it was like your brain was shouting your desire at me.” 

You flushed and covered your face with your hands. “Oh my God,” you mumbled, embarrassed. Your blush only worsened as you remembered all the filthy things you had thought about while in the presence of the twins, and you shrunk into yourself. “You must think I’m horrible.”

“Your thoughts are far from the worst we’ve ever heard,” Geta assured you.

“They aren’t even the horniest,” Caracalla added. “But, I’m interested in changing that.” 

“She doesn’t need your teasing, Caracalla,” Geta scolded.

A pulse of arousal thrummed through your body at the idea of Caracalla teasing you in a different way, and Caracalla laughed. “See?” he purred. “She likes it.” 

“Shut up.” Geta looked down at you, his eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully. “I want you to stay here for the night.”

“I work a closing shift tomorrow,” you said, “I can’t—“

Caracalla pouted and turned your chin so you faced him. “You were just going to leave after we hooked up?” he asked. 

You bit your bottom lip, your thoughts stalling. “Well, okay, in all fairness, I didn’t know if we were actually going to—“

“What?” Caracalla interrupted, whining. “Why not?”

“A lot has happened since our phone call the other night, Caracalla,” you reasoned, “excuse me if I thought that may have changed our plans.”

“What, cause of Geta? Geta doesn’t care!”

You turned to look at Geta, and his expression informed you that Caracalla was just blatantly wrong. ”Right,” you said dryly. “Clearly.” 

Caracalla groaned and dramatically buried his face in your shoulder. You could feel the air crackle with his incoming tantrum, and you bit back a smile as you shushed him and stroked his hair. 

“You should call out,” Geta advised. His touch was achingly light as he brushed his finger up your hip with just enough pressure to make a shiver run through you. 

“Oh yeah?” you breathed. “Why should I?”

Geta tilted his head, his gaze dragging down the length of your body. “You’ll be up late tonight,” he mused. 

Another wave of heat rolled through you at the promise in his words, accompanied by a flash of thoughts about what you wanted him to do to you to ensure you’d be up late. “You mean because we’ll be talking, right?” you asked shakily.

Geta’s eyes met yours; your thighs clenched. 

“Talking. Sure,” Caracalla purred as he turned his head to rest his cheek against your shoulder. “We can talk to you, baby.” He slung his arm around you and snuggled closer, his nose pressing against your thundering pulse. “I know how much you like to talk.” 

“What’s—“ You swallowed hard and fidgeted, your body so reactive to Caracalla’s touch as he rubbed his hand up and down your side. “What’s happening?” you asked weakly. 

“What do you want to happen?” Geta cooed. 

You looked up at him with wide eyes as Caracalla skimmed his lips over your shoulder. “I’m not… sure.” 

Geta took your chin in his hand and leaned in. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he said.

You nodded and leaned in far enough to close the small gap between you. A soft moan left you as your lips finally met his, and it was as if all the pain and worry melted away. Caracalla allowed you to turn onto your side so you could deepen your kiss with Geta. You took Geta’s face in your hands and moaned again when he finally put his hands on you; Geta clutched your hips like he was afraid you’d be taken from him. 

Behind you, Caracalla eased the strap of your dress down your shoulder to bare more of your skin. He kissed a trail from the curve of your shoulder to your neck, and then you felt the sharp prick of fangs against your skin, making you stiffen and gasp. “It’s alright,” he soothed, speaking against the shell of your ear. “I won’t bite you again unless you ask me to.” 

You pulled away from Geta just enough to ask, “Wh-why would I ask you to?” 

“I can make it feel good,” Caracalla purred. He slid his hand to your tummy. The short skirt of your dress had ridden up enough that as Caracalla slid his hand south, he could brush against the lace of your panties. 

“Wait,” you breathed, grabbing his wrist before he could go any farther. 

Caracalla stopped short, going so far as to lift his hand away from your body in order to respect your wishes. 

“Is this weird?” you asked.

Both twins seemed to consider your question for a long moment. “No,” Geta said, then paused again. “Maybe it is,” he amended, “but when you’ve been around for as long as we have, you tend not to get caught up in what’s weird or not weird.” 

“And you want it, don’t you?” Caracalla cooed. When you didn’t answer, he goaded you further. “You don’t need to be shy, just admit it.” 

“Well, yeah , but—“

“Then, it’s fine,” Caracalla interrupted. When you still didn’t let go of his wrist, he huffed out a laugh. “Eighteen hundred years and counting. We were Roman emperors, for Christ’s sake,” he chided. Caracalla pressed another kiss to your shoulder. “Do you think this is the first time we’ve done something taboo?” 

Another shiver ran through you. “N-No, I guess not, but—“

“You’re thinking about it too much,” Geta said, surprising you. He kissed you again, and you melted against him, letting go of Caracalla’s wrist so you could drape your arms around Geta’s neck. Caracalla resumed sliding his hand down your body, and you let him, even going so far as to part your legs so he could cup your sex. You inhaled sharply, and your hips bucked forward of their own accord. 

Geta grabbed your hips and urged you to grind against Caracalla’s hand. When you moaned, Geta slipped his tongue into your mouth. You slid your tongue against his and winced as his fang pricked you. Geta’s kiss grew hungrier, his hands clenching your hips as he pressed in closer, essentially pinning you against Caracalla’s chest. Geta broke the kiss, but only so he could trail his lips to your neck. 

“Are you gonna bite me?” you breathed. 

Geta groaned. “Should I?” he asked.

You hesitated just a moment before you blurted out, “Yes.” 

Geta sank his teeth into you.

Being bitten by Geta was the complete opposite of how Caracalla’s bite had gone. There was no fear this time, only the rushing heat of arousal. With the added pressure of Caracalla’s hand between your legs, you wondered briefly if you could cum just from that. 

Geta’s mouth latched around the wound, and your clit pulsed with the first deep, sucking pull. You bucked against Caracalla’s hand, letting out a loud whine. 

“More,” you begged. 

Both twins responded in kind. Geta swallowed and took another pull, while Caracalla slipped his hand into your panties to play with your throbbing clit. 

Geta drank just enough to get your heart racing. Once he was satisfied (though you got the feeling it was a very surface-level satisfaction) he pulled off and licked your blood off his lips. He bit into his wrist and surprised you as he pressed it against your mouth. “Drink,” he ordered.

You drank.

The taste was… strange. His blood didn’t taste like blood; there was no iron tang or hint of bitterness. It was richer than blood, as well as texturally thicker. Geta’s blood was almost like syrup, with the same subtle sweetness. You drank from his wrist, and the pain in your neck vanished. The arousal, however, seemed to increase tenfold. 

Geta pulled his wrist from your mouth and crashed his lips into yours. Your blood mixed with his as he shoved his tongue into your mouth, and holy fuck, you were suddenly so close to the edge. Caracalla rubbed your clit perfectly (fucking mind readers), and then you tumbled over into oblivion. Your body was wracked with pleasure as you gasped and ground harshly against Caracalla’s hand, your pussy clenching desperately around nothing. 

As soon as your wits returned, you reached out to undo Geta’s belt. He stopped you and chuckled. “Easy,” he purred. “There’s no rush.” 

“Speak for yourself,” you mumbled. Knowing who would cave to your advances, you turned onto your other side and kissed Caracalla. He was practically purring as he kissed you back. 

Caracalla rolled onto his back and pulled you with him, making you straddle him. You were very satisfied to feel him hard against you, his cock threatening to bust the zipper on his jeans. You moaned into his mouth. 

Geta circled his hand around your wrist and pulled gently, coaxing you away from his brother so he could kiss you again. “You’re almost as bad as he is,” he mused. “Was one orgasm not good enough for you?”

You shivered and shook your head. “Need more,” you breathed. 

“Greedy little pussy,” Caracalla observed with a giggle, sliding his hands up your thighs. “That’s alright, sweetheart, I am more than happy to give you what you want.” 

“You need sleep,” Geta advised. “You’ve had a very long, hard day—“

“Exactly, which is why I need something else long and hard,” you interrupted in a purr, rocking your hips. 

“Be serious for a moment,” sighed Geta. “You’re going to have a horrible hangover tomorrow if you don’t go to bed soon, and it won’t just be from the alcohol.” 

“Why do I feel like you’re just trying to cockblock your brother?” you wondered aloud.

“Because he is,” Caracalla whined.

Geta shook his head and settled back, running his hand over his face. You took the opportunity to scan his body, a spark of pleasure alighting in your belly when you noticed he was hard. 

“Sooo… you don’t want to fuck me, Geta?” you asked.

“That’s not what I said and you know it,” he corrected. “I’m trying to look out for you.”

“Always the protector,” you cooed. You sighed and fell onto Caracalla’s chest, burrowing your face in his neck. “Do you think he’s got a point, Caracalla?”

“I’m more interested in making things up to you than in whatever point Geta is trying to make,” Caracalla answered honestly. “Also, I just really need to fuck you.” 

You bit back a whimper and rolled your hips. ”M-Maybe I should get some sleep,” you muttered. You kissed Caracalla’s neck. “Then I can have enough energy to ride you tomorrow.”

You squeaked as Caracalla flipped you both, and then you were suddenly on your back, looking up at him with wide eyes. “I can make sure you sleep extra well tonight,” Caracalla promised, his hands sliding up your legs. 

You glanced at Geta and found he was already staring at you. “What do you think?” you asked.

“I’m not impressed,” he said flatly. “Hundreds of years of practice, and yet he’s still a minute man.”

Caracalla scoffed. “Don’t lie to her to make yourself feel better.” 

“Oh, please, Caracalla, you’re drunk and you’ve already tasted her. I’d give you three minutes, at best,” Geta guessed. “And that’s if you focus really hard.”

“As if you could do any better!” Caracalla growled. 

Geta’s smile was dangerously sharp. “Whether I do better or not is between (Y/N) and I,” he said. “You’ll have to find out from her thoughts.” 

A shiver ran through you and you bit your lower lip. God, why was it so hot when they fought over you? Without meaning to, you squeezed Caracalla with your thighs, coaxing him close enough that you could feel his erection press against your core. Your sharp inhale drew Caracalla’s attention back to you. 

“Baby, please,” whined Caracalla, grinding languidly against you. 

“You’re not going to fuck her in my bed,” Geta interjected before you could reply. 

Caracalla huffed. “Then I’ll fuck her on the floor.” 

“Caracalla,” you breathed, “do you really want it that bad?”

“I can’t believe you would ask me that,” he replied wryly. “Of course I want it that badly.” Caracalla leaned down to kiss you, and you moaned against his lips. “Do you?”

“Bad enough to let you fuck me on the floor?” you mused. “I dunno, maybe.” 

“Please?” he begged. 

“She needs sleep,” Geta insisted. “Leave.” 

“Oh, what, so you can fuck her instead?” Caracalla accused. “Not a chance!”

“My self-restraint is significantly higher than yours,” said Geta, “and I am more than capable of sleeping in the same bed as (Y/N) without seducing her.” 

You lolled your head to the side to look at him. “You wouldn’t even try?” you asked, a tinge of sadness to your voice. 

Geta’s lips pressed into a thin line and he looked away, his jaw clenching. 

“That’s what I fucking thought,” Caracalla said. 

Though arousal was still simmering in your veins, exhaustion was setting in, aided by the blood loss and the latening hour. You nudged Caracalla’s shoulder. “Off.” 

Caracalla groaned in frustration, but he fell to your side. You climbed off the bed and unzipped your dress, very aware of both of the twins staring at you. “I’m not going to sleep in this,” you explained. “If you’re going to sleep with me, you should take off your clothes, too.” 

Caracalla couldn’t comply fast enough— he practically ripped his clothes off, leaving him in baggy boxers that did nothing to hide his erection. Geta took his time, taking his clothes off like a normal person until he was down to his black boxer-briefs. You climbed back into bed and pulled the covers over all three of you. Caracalla cuddled up to you, wrapping his arms snugly around your middle. You reached out to Geta and he shifted closer, not quite touching you, but close enough that you could throw your arm around him (which you did).

Frustrated that Geta was keeping his hands to himself, you huffed and snuggled closer. “Geta,” you whined. “Touch me.” 

He exhaled through his nose and closed his eyes. You could feel his body twitch beneath your hand. “Caracalla, I will pay you five hundred dollars to leave this room right now,” Geta said through gritted teeth. 

Caracalla cackled. “Oh, you wish it was that easy to get rid of me,” he denied with a grin. 

You slid your hand up Geta’s chest. “What happened to trying to look out for me?” you mused. 

“Unfortunately, my need to be selfish is greatly overriding all logical thought,” Geta murmured. 

“I can’t be mad about it,” you purred. Dragging your hand down his body, you brushed your fingertips teasingly over his straining hardness. 

“I thought you were tired,” he breathed. 

“I am,” you confirmed. “But I’m also… so fucking horny.” 

“I could fuck you to sleep,” Caracalla suggested before pressing a kiss to your shoulder. 

“Tempting,” you hummed. “Very tempting, but your brother seems to have some qualms about that.” 

You felt Caracalla smile against your skin. “What if—?”

“ No ,” Geta interrupted. 

“Come on,” Caracalla chided, “at least let me ask.” 

“You don’t deserve it after the shit you pulled today,” Geta huffed. To your surprise and delight, he dragged you away from his brother, rolling over so Geta’s back was to his twin and you were tucked against his chest. “You don’t deserve anything from her,” he shot over his shoulder. 

You peeked at Caracalla over Geta’s shoulder. “What is it?” you asked. 

“You’re too tired,” Geta said. “And he’s an asshole.” 

“I know that already,” you huffed, sending Caracalla an apologetic smile. “But now I’m curious.” 

“I was going to suggest,” Caracalla drawled, “that if Geta’s going to be so precious about who gets to fuck you, he could take you from behind while I get your mouth.” 

You flushed from head to toe as you imagined being eiffel-towered by the twins. “I mean…” You looked up at Geta with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. 

“No,” Geta insisted. 

“Not at all?” you asked with a pout. 

“...Not tonight,” he clarified. 

You grinned and surged up to kiss him, sighing happily through your nose as he kissed you back. 

“Guys…” Caracalla sounded sad. “I feel left out.” 

“Good,” Geta muttered. 

You crawled over Geta to get to Caracalla, and you kissed him, too. Caracalla smiled against your lips, and he surprised you by simply laying his hand on your hip; he didn’t try to pull you closer or anything. “You okay, Caracalla?” you asked. 

“Trying to behave so Geta doesn’t force me out,” he answered. “I wanna sleep here.”

Geta let out a long-suffering sigh. “You’re so pathetic,” he said. “Whatever. Stay. I don’t give a shit.” 

You held your arms open for Caracalla, and he immediately latched onto you and buried his face in your chest. You giggled and wrapped your arms around him, stroking his fluffy hair. You turned your head to face Geta and pursed your lips for a kiss.

Geta smiled, though he looked like he was trying to fight it, and he kissed you softly. 

“So, uh, I guess this means no coffins?” you asked.

“No coffins,” Geta agreed. “Beds are fine.” 

“Do you stay asleep all day?”

“Geta doesn’t sleep very well,” Caracalla said, “so, no. But I do.”

“That I believe,” you mused and kissed Caracalla’s forehead. 

“I’ll probably be awake before you,” Geta added. “So, don’t worry about that.”

How did he know you were worried about that? Geta gave you a look and you went, “Ohhh, right.” You smiled. “Okay. Thanks, Geta.” 

Geta took your chin in his hand so he could kiss you. “Go to sleep.”

“‘Kay.” You shifted to get a little more comfortable, holding onto Caracalla like he was a beloved stuffy; Caracalla, to his credit, seemed to love it. The twins were warm to the touch for once, so you supposed your blood wasn’t the only thing they were leeching. You took a deep breath and the exhaustion finally overtook you, your last conscious thought being about how soft Caracalla’s hair was. 

Chapter Text

You woke up with a gasp. A heavy weight kept you pinned to the bed, you were sore and stiff, and your head was killing you. It took a moment to get your bearings, but when you did, you realized the weight on top of you was Caracalla, fast asleep. You breathed out a laugh and ran your hand through his hair. He didn’t stir. Blinking bleary eyes, you looked around. Last night, you hadn’t had much of an opportunity to take in Geta’s room, and you relished the chance to study the surroundings. The room had the same sort of dark academia vibe he was going for in the living room, though the bookshelves were replaced by art prints and photographs. A simple desk stood against one wall, covered in papers and notebooks, and also boasting— you were surprised to see— a desktop computer.

You turned your attention back to Caracalla. He was completely relaxed against you, his head on your chest. It was sweet he had stayed with you the whole day, but it was disconcerting, too, because he wasn’t breathing. If you didn’t know he was already dead, you would have been very concerned. You threaded your hand in his hair and lightly scritched his scalp, savoring the feeling of his soft, fluffy hair. 

The door opened and you looked up to see Geta entering with a glass of orange juice in one hand and his other hand cupped like he was holding something. He set the juice on the bedside table and grabbed his brother’s shoulder, more or less wrenching him off you so you could sit up. 

“Be gentle,” you whispered, trying not to laugh.

“He can’t feel it,” Geta said simply. “Here.” You held out your hand, and he dropped two pain pills into your palm. He gave you the orange juice, and you knocked the pills back with a sip. 

“Thank you,” you sighed. You smiled as you looked him over. Geta was dressed more casually than you’d ever seen him. In a t-shirt and basketball shorts, you would have assumed the clothes came from Caracalla’s closet, if not for the fact that they were both black. “Do you ever wear color?” you mused softly. 

“Occasionally.” Geta rounded the bed so he could sit on your other side, and you immediately sidled up to him. He smiled, and you couldn’t help but surge up to kiss him as warm affection bloomed in your chest. What was he so fucking cute for? 

You wanted to deepen the kiss, but he pulled away before you could. “Did you sleep okay?” murmured Geta. 

“Like the dead,” you answered automatically, then winced. “Is that offensive?”

Geta laughed. “I’m not offended,” he assured you. He nodded towards Caracalla. “Just look at him.” 

You looked at Caracalla, snickering at the way he was slumped over. “Yeah, just like that,” you mused. You turned back to Geta and leaned in for another kiss.

He benevolently gave you a kiss. 

“Do you feel better about sex now that I’ve had some rest?” you purred, sliding your hand up his chest. 

Geta scoffed out a laugh and tipped his head back, looking up at the ceiling. “Just woke up and already horny,” he sighed. 

“And what about it?” You dipped your head and kissed his neck, his skin cool against your lips. You wanted to warm him up. Geta accepted you into his lap, though he did let out another breathy laugh. “Don’t laugh at me,” you whined.

“Caracalla’s gonna throw a fit if he wakes up and sees you riding me,” Geta tutted. Regardless, he set his hands on your hips and helped you shift so you were flush against his lap. 

A shiver ran through you. “I guess we should be quick about it, then.” You slid your hand between your bodies and gripped his hardening cock through his shorts, making Geta grunt, his head hitting the wall lightly. 

“That desperate?” he rasped, clearly amused by your seduction attempts. 

“Yeah, it’s like I like you, or something,” you replied dryly. 

Geta grinned and took your head in both of his hands, pulling you into a kiss. The passion behind it left you reeling and you moaned into his mouth. Your desperation grew to an almost unmanageable level. 

“Please,” you breathed, squeezing his cock. “Please fuck me, Geta.”

“With Caracalla right beside us?” he mused.

“He’s dead to the world,” you said airily. “He won’t even notice.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game here,” Geta warned, though his smile never wavered. “What if he wakes up?”

“Then he can watch. I don’t give a shit,” you huffed. 

Geta laughed. “Fine,” he acquiesced. “If you don’t care, then so be it.” He placed his hands on your waist for a brief moment before skating them up your back so he could unhook your bra. You shrugged the straps off your shoulders and tossed the bra to the side, your breath hitching as Geta’s hands replaced the cups. You pushed into his touch and kissed him again, busying yourself with trying to push down his shorts. Geta didn’t help; he was too busy touching you. You managed to get his shorts and underwear down to his thighs, and you broke the kiss so you could watch your hand stroke his cock. A sick twinge of delight filled you when you noticed that the carpet indeed matched the drapes. 

“I’d prefer if you didn’t smile at my crotch like that,” Geta said dryly. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.” You bit your lip to stifle your smile. “Do you have a condom?” 

His jaw clenched and his eyes darted to the bedside table on the other side of Caracalla. “Yes…”

“I’ll get it.” You slid off of him and climbed over Caracalla‘s still-sleeping form, plucking a condom from the top drawer. You shimmied out of your panties before you returned to Geta’s lap. He welcomed you eagerly, kissing you as you tore open the wrapper and rolled the condom onto his cock. Geta shifted down a bit so it was easier for you to get into position, and you slowly pushed your hips down, easing onto him. Pleasure simmered in your core as your walls fluttered around him. 

You began to bounce your hips. Each drag of him inside you added to the heat in your tummy, and it was too easy to forget that Caracalla was asleep beside you. 

Geta gripped your hips and tilted his head back, exposing his gorgeous, pale neck to you. You took the opportunity to lean in and bite him. He puffed out a laugh, his hips bucking up into you and pushing his cock deeper inside you. 

You let out a desperate whine. “Please do that again,” you breathed. 

Geta did as you asked, and just a little twitch of his hips left you breathless. When you moaned in his ear, Geta mumbled, “Fuck it,” and then your back was suddenly pressed into the mattress, what little breath you had leaving in a sharp gasp. Your legs splayed open as Geta pumped into you, his hands still gripping your hips with vice-like strength. You wondered briefly if his hands would leave marks before the thought flew away, replaced by the aching need in your body. The new angle of your hips made everything so much more intense, and when you darted your hand down to rub your clit, it was like little fireworks went off in your head.

“So fascinating to hear your mind utterly empty of thoughts,” Geta mused. “Have I fucked you dumb already?” 

You whined loudly, a flush spreading through your body and making your cheeks hot. “D-Don’t be mean,” you grumbled.

“Why?” Geta smiled. “You like it.”

Fucking mind readers. “Shut up,” you said weakly. 

Geta slowed his thrusts, drawing another whine from your throat. “I’m just doing what you want, sweetheart,” he cooed. “I’ve seen enough of what goes on in your mind, I can put the pieces together.” 

Another wave of heat had you squirming, aided by the fact that Geta had almost stilled entirely. “Geta,” you whined. “Don’t stop.” 

“Do you remember those dreams you had about me?” he asked, apropos of nothing. 

You groaned and tried to roll your hips; his grip kept you still. “Yes,” you finally answered when your wriggling proved fruitless. 

“All those scenes you conjured that led to this moment,” Geta said, clearly savoring it, “when I’d have you panting and begging for more.” He pumped his hips once, twice. “I’m making your dreams come true, (Y/N).” 

“Sh-Shu— oh ,” you gasped, your back arching as he started to thrust again. ”Fuck, Geta, just like that.” 

Geta used his grip on you to pull you into each roll of his hips. “I’ve got you,” he purred. 

You clenched around him, working your clit a little faster as your climax rocketed towards you. “I’m so close,” you panted. “Please don’t stop!”

Geta shifted his weight onto his hands so he could more effectively pound you into the mattress. “Keep begging me like that and I’ll never stop,” he murmured. “You feel so good, sweetheart.”

You whimpered, his words only stoking the flames of your arousal. The knot in your tummy tightened and tightened, until it finally broke and your pussy spasmed around his cock. Waves of pleasure rolled through you, whiting out your vision for a moment. You knew you were moaning, but your hearing thinned out, too, so you couldn’t really hear it. 

You came to your senses just in time to feel Geta’s hips stutter. He groaned, pushing in as deep as he could go as he came inside you. The way he looked down at you had another wave of heat rolling through you— lips parted and the perfect shade of pink, brown eyes lidded and hazy. You would do everything you could to be able to see that expression again.

You felt a sudden burst of affection that had you making grabby hands for him. He smiled sweetly and lowered himself down far enough for you to kiss him. You pulled on his shoulders, urging him to rest more of his weight on you. Geta nuzzled into your neck, pressing feather-light kisses to your skin as he granted your silent request and settled on top of you. 

Geta cuddled you for a few blissful moments. It felt far too soon when he started to pull away from you. You whined, but Geta shushed you softly. “I need to clean up,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

You grumbled, but allowed him to do so.

True to his word, as soon as the condom was disposed of and his shorts were back up, Geta was back in bed, pulling you against his chest. You kissed him. 

You startled as you felt Caracalla’s hand slide up your back, and then you were being pulled away from Geta. You laughed as Caracalla pulled your back to his chest, spooning you possessively. “Good morning, Cara,” you mused, reaching back to coax him into a kiss. 

“For you, maybe,” he grumbled against your lips. Caracalla snaked his hand down your body and between your thighs. “You couldn’t wait for me to wake up?” 

A delighted shiver ran through you as his fingers found your sensitive clit. “Aw, baby, don’t be grumpy,” you cooed sympathetically. 

Caracalla huffed. “Just because he wakes up earlier than me, he gets to take what’s mine.” 

“She’s ours ,” Geta responded, already annoyed by his brother’s attitude. “You’re the one who wanted to share.” 

Another huff from Caracalla, but he didn’t refute Geta’s claims. Instead, he used his other hand to pull your hair back and attached his lips to your neck, sucking a dark, claiming hickey in the crook of your shoulder. Another shiver sent your nervous system alight, and your hips bucked against Caracalla’s hand. 

“Poor thing,” Caracalla cooed. “Was Geta not enough?”

“If you’ll check her mind, I’m sure you’ll find I was quite satisfactory,” Geta growled. 

“I don’t know, if she wasn’t even loud enough to wake me up, I can’t be sure you were doing your job correctly.” 

“P-Please don’t fight,” you breathed with a laugh. 

Geta exhaled deeply through his nose and leaned in to kiss you. “I’ll make you breakfast,” he decided. 

“I’ll make her breakfast, too,” Caracalla purred, the double entendre working embarrassingly well on you. 

“You’re…” Geta didn’t even bother finishing his sentence, just shook his head and left. 

“Thank God he’s gone,” Caracalla snickered as soon as Geta shut the door. He sat up and nudged you onto your back, kissing you sweetly. You sighed happily through your nose and wrapped your arms around his neck. A wave of heat rolled through you as he slid his tongue into your mouth, all of Caracalla’s sweetness replaced with desire. His cool hands glided up your body to your chest, squeezing your tits. 

“Caracalla,” you whined softly. 

“So pretty,” he breathed. “Waking up to you naked was like a dream come true. It’s easy to forget you’re naked because you fucked my brother.” 

You flushed, feeling a strong twinge of shame. “I—“

Caracalla shushed you softly and kissed you. “I don’t care,” he assured you. “I’m just teasing you, babe.” He kissed your neck and then your chest, and then he kept moving down your body, the sensation of each kiss stoking the flame of your arousal. Caracalla settled between your legs and wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you where he wanted you. He dragged his fangs along your sensitive inner thigh, and before you had time to even process the possibility of him doing so, he sank his teeth into you. 

The pain was less intense than when he bit your neck, but still sharp enough to make you cry out. Caracalla retracted his fangs and sealed his lips around the wound so he could drink from you. If your brain wasn’t so wrapped up in the pain and pleasure of it all, you would have been impressed by his show of restraint as he popped off after just a couple pulls. You looked down at him and got a little dizzy at the sight of your blood staining his lips. 

Caracalla licked his lips clean and grinned at you, his gold tooth glinting in the dim light of Geta’s bedroom. “That’s the first part of breakfast done,” he purred. 

You swallowed hard. “F-First part?”

Instead of answering your question, Caracalla pressed his mouth against your cunt. You gasped as his tongue delved into you and your head fell back, your hand tangling in his hair. Caracalla encouraged you to grind against his face as he explored you with his tongue. When the tip of his tongue flicked against your clit, your body jolted as pleasure shot through you. 

“Oh, my God,” you moaned loudly— probably too loud. 

Caracalla repeated the motion and sighed happily through his nose. When you glanced down at him, the sight of his clear blue eyes watching you eagerly made your breath hitch. You carded your hand through his hair and tried to collect yourself. Your body was already primed and practically itching for another orgasm, but you wanted to savor the feeling of Caracalla’s tongue sliding against you. 

“Don’t hold back on my account,” Caracalla purred. “I promise, this will not be the only time I bury my face in your pussy.” 

You shivered, a whimper leaving your throat. “It’s just… nice,” you managed. “I want it to last.”

Caracalla laughed. “You think I’m gonna stop after one?”

You exhaled shakily, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “You’re not?” you ventured.

He shook his head. “Geta may be satisfied with giving you one orgasm, but I’m greedy,” purred Caracalla. “I want as many as I can drag out of you. I won’t stop until you ask me to.” 

“O-Oh,” you breathed. “I see.” 

“Speaking of…” Caracalla got back to work, his nose brushing against your clit as he slid his tongue into you. 

“Fuck,” you gasped, your head falling back again. “I’m close, Cara.”

He hummed his acknowledgment and again encouraged you to grind against his face. Caracalla seemed perfectly satisfied with letting you use him, and it enhanced the pleasure coursing through you. It didn’t take you long to fall over the edge. You rode out your orgasm on Caracalla’s tongue and tried (unsuccessfully) to bite back the needy whine that spilled from your lips. 

Caracalla littered your thighs with little bitemarks as your body recovered from your climax. He may have been interested in giving you multiple orgasms, but he was considerate enough not to overstimulate you to the point of pain. 

As soon as he decided you were ready, his head was back between your thighs, except he decided to add his fingers as well. Caracalla slowly slid a finger into you as he lapped gently at your swollen clit. 

You squirmed as your body rode the line of overstimulation. Your brain wanted more, craved more, but the tension in your body was almost unbearable. Whines and whimpers leaked from your throat uncontrollably, and you couldn’t seem to catch your breath. When Caracalla added another finger, you cried out, your walls fluttering around the intrusion. He was being so fucking gentle, and you weren’t sure if it was helping or driving you further up the wall. “Caracalla, please ,” you begged, not sure what you were even asking for. 

He lifted his head and licked his lips clean, his fingers still working slowly in and out of you. “Yeah?” he asked innocently. “What do you need, baby?”

You squirmed and whined, your mind utterly, unhelpfully blank. “I dunno,” you keened, “but something!” 

Caracalla merely shrugged and dipped his head back down, pressing the flat of his tongue to your clit. 

You could hear the slick sound of his fingers thrusting into you, matching the feeling of each effortless glide. You clenched around his digits. You needed more, you realized. You needed to feel fuller. 

Caracalla mercifully slid a third finger into you. 

“Fuck, yes !” you cried out, gripping his hair tightly as you rolled your hips. “Oh, my God, just like that.” 

He moaned against you. You looked down at him and shivered. Caracalla’s pupils were blown wide, his eyes eager and bright. He curled his fingers, brushing against the spot in you that made you see stars, and pressed his lips to your clit. That extra pressure was enough to push you over the edge again, and you were shaking as your orgasm rolled through you. Tears spilled from your closed eyes, tracking down your cheeks and dripping into your hair. 

Caracalla delicately extracted his fingers from your still-spasming pussy and you blinked open your teary eyes just in time to watch him suck his fingers clean. He grinned as your brain short-circuited at the sight. “Too much?” he wondered.

You shook your head mutely.

“You want me to fuck you?”

You nodded quickly.

Caracalla laughed. “Tell me, baby,” he cooed, sliding his hands up your thighs. “I wanna hear you say it.” 

“I-I want you to fuck me,” you managed. 

“Good girl.” Caracalla plucked a condom from Geta’s stash, pushed down his boxers, and nodded towards you. “Roll over,” he said with a grin.

You were still shaking as you rolled onto your tummy. Instead of parting your legs, as you assumed he would, Caracalla pushed your thighs together before he straddled them. You gasped as he slid his cock between your thighs, your wetness making it so easy for him to give a few teasing thrusts against your pussy without actually pushing into you. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you hissed, burying your face in Geta’s pillow. You propped your hips up a little more and keened as the head of his cock caught against your entrance. Caracalla canted his hips forward, just barely pushing in before he stopped. You whined his name loudly, looking at him over your shoulder. 

“Something wrong?” he hummed, his head tilting to the side. 

“Please stop teasing me,” you sniffled. 

“I’m not teasing you, baby,” Caracalla corrected condescendingly. “If I was, you’d be crying again.” He used his hands to spread your cheeks so he could push his cock all the way into you with no resistance. Caracalla groaned happily. “You feel so fucking good,” he slurred. “You’re still so twitchy, it’s awesome.” 

You moaned pitifully, unable to muster up a reply beyond that. Liquid heat spread through your body and made you soft and pliable. Caracalla started thrusting, and your whole body buzzed. It was like you were barely staying afloat in a current that constantly threatened to pull you under. You weren’t sure if you were slipping into subspace or what, but whatever it was, it was fucking intense. 

“Geta bragged about fucking you dumb, but he didn’t get you like this ,” Caracalla purred. He threaded his hand in your hair and pulled your head up so he could see the drying tear tracks on your cheeks. 

“H-How did you…?”

Caracalla grinned. “You thought I really slept through all that?” he mused. “Guess I’m a pretty good actor.” 

“When did—“ You were cut off by a moan as he dropped your hair and doubled his efforts. “Caracalla,” you whined loudly. 

He snickered. “You’re so fucking hot,” Caracalla sighed happily. “And your pussy is insane . All hot and wet, and fucking greedy. S’like you’re begging for me to cum in you.” 

“God, Cara, please,” you cried. “Want you to, need it, please!” 

“Yeah?” he panted. Caracalla curled over you and nipped your shoulder, his arm sliding around your waist to keep you tight against his chest. He ground into you, his hips flush against your ass, and he was so deep it made your head spin. Hot tears threatened to spill from your eyes once again, and oh God, could you even do a fourth one? You felt utterly strung out, the pleasure brewing inside you hot and liquid like magma. His fangs brushed against your skin, the only warning you had before he bit into your shoulder. 

“Fuck,” you warbled as your fourth orgasm rolled through you. Your pussy pulsed around his cock, your slick dripping onto your thighs. You dimly wondered if Geta would be mad at you for making a mess of his sheets as you surely were. 

Caracalla came inside you, his hips rocking as a pathetic little whine emanated from his throat. He pulled his head back and nipped his wrist, holding it to your mouth so you could drink from him. You moaned as you swallowed his blood, the dregs of his orgasmic bliss mixing with yours and giving you a delightful buzz. 

When your wounds had closed, Caracalla pulled his wrist away and tugged you by your hair into a kiss. You whined as he pulled out of you, the drag of his cock against your oversensitive walls making you shiver. While he disposed of the condom, you rolled onto your back and winced. “Pain,” you murmured. 

“I know, baby, but you did so good,” Caracalla cooed. He slipped back into bed and gathered you up in his arms. You rested your head against his chest and he rubbed your back, kissing your forehead. You tilted your head back so he could kiss your lips. 

It took a few minutes for your brain to return to a normal train of thought, and the first thing you thought of was Geta. “I wonder how breakfast is going,” you mumbled sleepily. 

“Geta’s currently trying not to break any dishes,” Caracalla informed you, voice thick with amusement. 

“Oh, Cara, what did you do?” you whined.

“Nothing, baby, it was all you,” he answered gleefully. “I didn’t even have to project it to him, you were just loud .” 

“Oh…” You buried your face in Caracalla’s chest to hide your burning cheeks as embarrassment flooded your psyche. “Sorry,” you croaked. 

“Don’t be sorry, babe,” Caracalla soothed, rubbing circles between your shoulder blades. “He’ll be fine, he’s just jealous.” 

“I’m not jealous.”

You startled and looked up as Geta entered with a plate of food. Your heart beat a little faster at the sight of him, and you became dizzy as you tried to sit up. 

“Christ, Caracalla,” Geta cursed, his free hand darting out to support you so you didn’t tip over. “You could have given her a break.”

“She didn’t ask,” Caracalla said simply. “And I fed her, so it’s not like I just left her bleeding.” 

“Can we not talk about me like I’m not here, please?” you asked weakly.

“Sorry,” Geta said, frowning. He handed you the plate, and you were pleased to find it was all your favorite breakfast foods. “Eat.”

“Yay mind readers,” you murmured to yourself before digging in.

“You always make such a mess,” Geta hissed at his brother. “Why can’t you do shit like this in your own bedroom?”

Caracalla shrugged and slid out of bed. You almost choked when you realized he was still very naked. He stretched, clearly unashamed of his nudity. You whined when he moved to leave. “Just gonna shower,” he cooed reassuringly. “I’ll be back.” Caracalla gave you a quick kiss before he strolled out of the room confidently. 

Geta shook his head in disgust. “No respect,” he muttered. He turned his attention back to you and visibly softened. His brows furrowed with concern as he looked you over, taking in the damage that Caracalla caused. Geta reached out and cupped your cheek. 

You leaned into his touch, your eyes falling shut as you sighed through your nose. You loved the comfort Geta brought you; you would have never expected how sweet he was from your initial impression of him. 

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“I’m… so good,” you breathed, opening your eyes. “Though we’ll see how long that lasts.”

Geta smiled sympathetically. “I’ll be here for you as you come down,” he assured you. “Whatever you need.”

Tears suddenly pricked your eyes and you looked down at your plate to hide them. “Why?” you asked. 

“Because I care about you,” he answered simply, dropping his hand to your thigh. “Finish your food. I’m going to find you something to wear.”

“Okay,” you croaked, tears making your throat tight. You cleared your throat and continued to eat, watching him peruse his closet. It was charming how closely he seemed to consider each piece of clothing. By the time you had cleared your plate— which was fast, due to your ravenous appetite— Geta had chosen a sweater for you to slide on. It was soft and slightly oversized, and most importantly, it smelled like him. He also handed you your panties, and once you were dressed in your new little outfit, you felt cute and comfy. 

“I need you to get up for a little bit, sweetheart,” he told you apologetically. “I’m going to change the sheets.” 

“Mkay.” You winced as you wriggled off the bed, and Geta helped you to your feet, supporting you as your knees threatened to give out. You wrapped your arms around his neck and just hugged him for a long moment. “Thank you,” you murmured against his shoulder. 

Geta kissed your temple. “You’re welcome,” he said. He slowly tottered the both of you towards the door of his bedroom. “Wanna sit in the living room?”

“Whatever,” you answered easily, just feeling happy to be there. 

Geta eased you onto the sofa and got you a glass of water before he left you to change his sheets. You sipped your water and tried not to think too hard about anything, instead just enjoying the remaining buzz in your veins. Feelings and such could be acknowledged when you weren’t so fragile. 

Chapter Text

You must have fallen asleep on the sofa without realizing, because the next thing you knew, you were being roused by gentle, insistent pushes to your hip. You blinked open bleary eyes and lifted your head to see Caracalla smiling at you. “What’s up, Cara?” you rasped. 

“You looked uncomfortable,” he said. Caracalla held open his arms. “Come here.” 

You crawled into his arms and settled against his side, nuzzling into his neck as he shifted so you were both stretched out on the sofa. His t-shirt was soft beneath your palm as you slid your hand up his chest to his shoulder. He smelled fresh and clean from his shower, and you inhaled deeply, unable to help yourself. Caracalla giggled as you pressed your nose to his neck. 

“How do you feel?” he asked, stroking his hand down your back. 

You hummed out a little uncertain noise. “Sleepy,” you answered. 

“Yeah, I bet,” Caracalla mused. “Maybe Geta was right and I should have taken a break.”

“S’fine,” you assured him. 

Caracalla coaxed you into a kiss. “You sure you’re okay?” he prodded gently. “You’re really quiet.”

“I think I’m in sub drop,” you muttered. 

“Yeah, I think so, too,” Caracalla said with a soft laugh. He kissed you again and eased you up into a sitting position. He grabbed your glass of water from the table and held it to your lips until you drank from it on your own. 

When he set the glass back down, you wiped your mouth. “Do you still like me?” you asked suddenly, surprising both of you. 

“Of course I do,” Caracalla answered. He took your hand and intertwined your fingers. “You did so well, baby.” 

You caught your bottom lip between your teeth. “Do you think Geta’s mad at me?”

“No, no, he’s not mad at you at all,” Caracalla assured you. “Why would he be mad at you?”

“I don’t know,” you answered weakly. “I feel like I’ve… disappointed him.”

“No, baby,” he cooed gently. Caracalla turned and called out, “Geta! Help!”

You blinked and then Geta was there, making you jump. 

“Sorry,” Geta mused. He took a seat next to you and placed his hand on your lower back, tutting softly as you buried your face in his shoulder. “Oh, honey…”

“Do you hate me?” you squeaked. 

“No, I do not hate you,” he sighed. “What are you worried about, exactly?”

“You can read my mind, you figure it out,” you grumbled, not even sure how to verbalize it.

Caracalla laughed. “You need to figure it out first, babe,” he informed you, poking your side and making you squirm. “Your thoughts are a mess right now.” 

“Tell me about it,” you sighed. You let go of Caracalla’s hand so you could wrap your arms around Geta’s neck. 

“We’re not mad at you,” Geta cooed, “we’re not mad at each other. It’s all okay.” He rubbed your back. “You don’t need to feel guilty for your desires, sweetheart.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, your voice wavering. 

“So sure,” Caracalla emphasized. “You want us, we want you— what’s there to feel guilty about?” 

You shrugged weakly and finally lifted your head, meeting Geta’s eyes. He smiled, and you felt a surge of affection in your chest. You looked back at Caracalla and he nodded encouragingly. “Okay…” you said. “If you’re sure.”

“We’re sure,” Geta confirmed. 

Caracalla leaned in and kissed your shoulder. “You were so good for us, baby,” he praised.

“You’re still being so good,” Geta assured you. He took your head in his hands and pulled you into a soft kiss. The gesture made you feel cared for and protected, and it was easy to melt into the kiss, your stress melting away, too. 

Geta leaned back and pulled you with him, tucking you into his side. 

Caracalla wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your cheek. “We should go to my room and watch a movie,” he suggested. “Since Geta won’t let me put a TV in the living room.”

“I’m not letting you ruin my meticulously decorated house,” Geta deadpanned. 

“He’s such a diva,” Caracalla murmured to you conspiratorially. 

You giggled. “It’s a beautiful house, Geta,” you said. 

“Traitor,” Caracalla gasped playfully, tickling your sides until you screeched with laughter. 

“Stop it,” Geta scolded, though he was clearly holding back laughter of his own. “Haven’t you done enough to her today?”

“Oh, it’ll never be enough,” Caracalla purred, leaning in to kiss you. 

You sighed happily through your nose. “Thank you,” you said. “Both of you.”

“Thank you ,” Caracalla replied. 

“You don’t need to thank us,” Geta added. He slid his hand to your waist and squeezed gently. “I made the bed, if you want to go lay back down.”

“What about my room?” Caracalla whined.

“God only knows when the last time you washed your sheets was,” Geta sneered. “I’m not stepping foot in there.” 

Caracalla looked at you with a pout. 

“Aw, Geta, look at that face,” you drawled, pinching his cheek. 

“So you’ll go to my room?” Caracalla said hopefully.

“No,” you replied with an apologetic smile.

He groaned and draped himself dramatically over your lap. “But my room is so much better,” Caracalla lamented. “I have way cooler stuff than Geta does.” He looked up at you with pleading eyes. “I have a lava lamp.”

“What? That’s sick,” you said with a grin. 

“Exactly!” Caracalla sat up and pulled you to your feet. “Come on, come look.” 

You swayed, nearly fainting as your blood pressure plummeted from standing up too fast. Thankfully, Geta was there to catch you. “Caracalla,” he barked. “Use your brain for once.” 

“Ah, shit, I’m sorry, (Y/N),” Caracalla said with a grimace.

“Don’t be mean,” you mumbled to Geta. “I’m sure he forgets what humans are like.” 

Geta huffed and swept you off your feet, carrying you to his room. “You can look at his room later,” he said. “Right now, you need to rest.” 

He laid you in the freshly made bed and pulled the covers back, helping you get under them. He was gone in a flash, and back just as fast, your glass of water in his hand. Geta made you drink, his eyebrows furrowed worriedly. 

“I’m okay,” you assured him. You wanted to smooth away the creases on his face, though his concern for you was very sweet. 

Caracalla joined the two of you in bed, gaming laptop in hand. “If Geta won’t put a TV in here, this will have to do,” he said brightly. “What do you want to watch?” 

You cuddled up to Caracalla, wrapping your arms around his waist, and shrugged. “Something easy,” you said. “And cute.”

“Hmm.” Caracalla perused his various streaming services until he pulled up Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009). “How’s this?”

“Perfect,” you hummed. You kissed his cheek. “It’s orange, just like you two.” 

Caracalla laughed, and you beamed, pleased he had liked your joke. You looked over your shoulder to see Geta’s reaction, and he graced you with a smile. Hell yeah. You were winning at polyamory, a totally healthy and normal thing to want to do. 

Caracalla started the movie and you reached behind you for Geta’s hand, tugging him closer so he spooned you. A little sigh left him, but he dutifully laid behind you, propping his head up on his hand so he could see the movie over your body. While Geta watched, the hand you held traced idle, nonsensical patterns into your skin with his thumb.

Warm affection radiated through your body. Despite the fact that you were laying vulnerably between two ancient, powerful vampires, you felt safer and more comfortable than you had in a long time. 

Chapter Text

You did have to leave the twins’ house at some point. For one, you didn’t have any of your usual toiletries, and after a night of partying and a morning of sex, you felt gross. Secondly, you didn’t have a change of clothes and you had to slide on your dress from the night before. Geta insisted you keep his sweater, so you wore that over it as you walked to your car with your heels in your hand. The twins trailed behind you, looking far too mournful for your liking. “You’re both ridiculous,” you teased gently as you tossed your heels into the passenger seat. 

“Why don’t you let me drive you home?” Geta suggested. He stood beside you, grazing his hand down your side as you opened the driver’s side door. 

“And then you’ll do what?” you tutted. “Walk back?” 

Geta was carefully silent, though his face told you that was exactly what he had planned on doing.

“Ridiculous,” you repeated. “Give me a kiss so I can go.” 

Geta sighed through his nose, but leaned down and kissed you sweetly. You smiled against his lips before you pulled away. 

“When do I get to see you again?” Caracalla asked. “Geta gets you in class, but I wanna see you, too.”

Aw, he really did like you. “I’ll send you my work schedule and we’ll figure it out,” you assured him. 

Caracalla pouted. “Tomorrow?”

“Cara…”

He groaned. “Please?”

“No, baby,” you answered gently. 

“We’re still meeting on Wednesday to work on our project, right?” Geta asked. “You invited me to your apartment.”

You nodded. “Yeah, that still works,” you confirmed. 

“That’s not fair,” Caracalla protested. “Why does he get his own date night? Geta intruded on mine.”

“I shudder to think what would have happened if I hadn’t,” Geta added dryly. 

“Maybe I would’ve done what I planned to do and—“

“We can have our own date night,” you assured Caracalla, interrupting him. 

“And I can come over to your apartment, too?” he asked eagerly.

You smiled, warm affection blooming in your chest. It was easy to forget he was an ancient immortal when he seemed so… young. He was just a little guy! “Yeah, Cara, you can.” 

“Fuck yeah,” he cheered, surging forward to kiss you.

You sighed through your nose and returned the kiss, trying not to get too wrapped up in how nice it felt to kiss him. You really needed to get home, and Caracalla was making it extraordinarily difficult to get the motivation necessary to get in your car. 

Geta set his hands on Caracalla’s shoulders and hauled his brother away from you. “That’s enough,” Geta sighed. Caracalla whined, his hands flying out to try and hold onto you. 

“Sorry, baby,” you cooed, giving him a little wave. “I’ll text you.” 

“And call,” Caracalla insisted.

“And call,” you agreed with a smile. You blew them lots of kisses as you finally got in your car and shut the door. The twins lingered outside as you started the engine, and you rolled your window down. “Yes?”

“Be safe,” Geta said. 

“Text when you get home,” Caracalla added, nudging Geta aside. 

You smiled broadly. “Is it going to be like this every time I leave?” you mused.

“Yes,” Caracalla said. “So you just shouldn’t leave. Ever.” 

It was Geta’s turn to push Caracalla out of the way. “We just worry about you,” Geta sighed. 

“That’s very sweet,” you cooed, “but I promise, I’ll be fine. My apartment is like 15 minutes away.”

“That’s too far,” Caracalla whined. 

“Your clinginess is quickly losing its endearing quality,” Geta warned flatly. 

“It’s fine,” you assured the both of them. You leaned out your window. “One more kiss,” you allowed. 

Caracalla grinned and surged forward to kiss you, his hands coming up to hold your head in place. He kissed you as long as he could, far longer than you intended, until Geta finally pushed him aside. Geta’s kiss was much more reasonable in length. 

“Bye,” you said dreamily when Geta pulled away. 

Geta smiled. “I’ll see you Wednesday,” he promised. Then, Geta prodded his brother back towards the house, Caracalla waving at you the whole time. 

You had the biggest smile on your face the whole ride home, and it didn’t fade until a long time after.

Wednesday eventually rolled around, which meant Geta was going to be at your apartment any minute now. You puttered nervously around your living room, making sure everything was perfect. It wasn’t that you thought your apartment would impress him— what even would be impressive to a man who had been around for thousands of years?— but you wanted him to like it, at least. 

A knock on the front door made you jump and you hurried to answer it. Geta was waiting patiently on your welcome mat, smiling as soon as he saw you. It had only been a few days since you had been at his house, but he still took your breath away. He wore a navy blue silk shirt, the fabric so dark it was almost black, tucked into gray slacks. The first three buttons of the shirt were undone, giving you a tantalizing glimpse of the pale skin beneath. 

Comparatively, in your t-shirt and shorts, you felt very underdressed. “Do you always have to look so good?” you groaned.

“Hello to you, too,” Geta mused. 

“Well?” you prompted.

“It’s my curse to bear, I’m afraid,” he confirmed wryly. Geta’s gaze darted behind you. “Are you going to invite me in?”

“So that one’s real, huh?”

Geta grimaced. “Unfortunately.”

“Just residences?” you wondered. 

“It’s…” Geta tilted his head from side to side. “…complicated,” he decided. “I’ve never really understood the rules, I just know that some places I can walk into freely, and some I can’t.”

“Huh.” You shrugged and stepped aside, flourishing with your hand. “Consider yourself invited,” you mused. 

“I appreciate it,” he said dryly. Geta entered your apartment and toed off his boots. The moment you were within reaching distance, he tugged you to his chest and kissed you. You melted against him and wrapped your arms around his neck, sighing happily through your nose. 

“Happy to see me?” you mused. 

“I missed you,” he murmured against your lips, wasting no time before kissing you again. 

You smiled. “I missed you, too, Geta.” You kissed his cheek and pulled away. “We need to work on the project,” you reminded him. You took his hand and led him into the living room.

“No, we don’t,” Geta replied with a wry smile. “I finished it.”

You stopped short, and Geta had the decency to look sheepish as you slowly turned to him. “You… what?” 

“Well, I—“

“Geta.”

“I wanted us to have some personal time together,” he reasoned. “Just us.” 

“That project was supposed to take the whole semester,” you whined, “and I was supposed to help!”

Geta pouted and reached out for you. You allowed him to pull you back in, though you rolled your eyes. “Don’t be mad at me,” he pleaded.

God, he was just as bad as Caracalla.

“I am not,” he protested with a shocked laugh.

Oh. Right. Fucking mindreaders. “Okay, you’re not,” you sighed, “but I am still frustrated.” 

“That’s fair.” He placed his hand under your chin and tilted your face up so he could kiss you. The kiss was soft and teasing, barely there at all, and you let out a little whine, trying to follow when he pulled back. Geta grinned. “I’m sorry, did you want something?” he purred. 

“Now you’re going to tease me?” you huffed. “How is that fair?”

He tutted and leaned in, kissing your cheek. “It’s just so fun,” mused Geta. “I like seeing you get so… indignant.” 

“Can I uninvite you?” you wondered. “Will it push you out of the house if I can?”

Geta laughed. “No, you can’t,” he answered. 

“Damn.”

He pouted playfully, and despite his protests, he really did remind you of Caracalla. “You want to uninvite me?” 

“If you’re going to tease me, yes,” you mused.

“Then I won’t,” he assured you. “Whatever you want, darling, I’ll give to you.” Geta tilted his head, brushing his thumb across your chin. “And when you eventually crave my teasing, I’ll give you that, too.”

You rolled your eyes and huffed. “Like that’s gonna happen,” you grumbled.

“You forget, I can hear your thoughts,” he cooed. “I know how much you love when I drag things out.” Geta tilted your head back a little more, baring your throat to him. He dragged his fingertips down your neck, and a shiver ran through you. “Don’t you?”

You exhaled slowly through your nose and swallowed hard, your eyes falling shut. “Maybe,” you admitted. “Just a little.” 

Geta kissed you. “Good girl,” he purred in your ear before brushing past you.

You groaned, tilting your head back as you tried not to stomp your foot. “You come here with intent, and then you do this!” you whined. 

“Intent?” he repeated with a laugh.

You turned to watch him sit on your couch, his legs spreading invitingly as he got comfortable. Without thinking about it, you bit your lip. You were treated to even more of his chest as his shirt gaped open wider. “Intent,” you agreed as you padded slowly over to him, drinking in the sight of him. “You finished the project without me, Geta, and yet you’re here anyway.”

“We’re dating,” Geta mused. “Is it so unusual that I would want to spend time with you?” 

You hummed noncommittally. When you were close enough, you nudged his legs open a little wider and sank to your knees in front of him. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?” 

You rested your head on his thigh and looked up at him, pleased by the obvious desire burning in his eyes. You smiled sweetly up at him. “What?”

“Now who has intent?” He combed his hand through your hair, and you shuffled closer, pressing a kiss to his inner thigh.

“You just look really good,” you reasoned. You snaked your hand up his leg to his other thigh so you could squeeze it. 

“You think so?” he asked with a wry smile. “Seems like you wanna do something about it.” 

“I do,” you purred. You pressed another kiss to his thigh and leaned in, nuzzling his bulge and smiling as he hardened against you. You dragged your lips across the imprint of his cock, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

“Now who’s teasing?” Geta breathed. 

“M’not,” you protested innocently. “Like you said, I have intent.” 

He dragged his hand through your hair and down to your cheek, stroking your cheek as you mouthed at his erection. “Pretty girl,” Geta hummed appreciatively. “You want my cock in your mouth, don’t you?” 

You nodded and reached up to unbuckle his belt. Then, you undid his fly and hummed happily at the sight of his tented boxer-briefs. You untucked his shirt and unbuttoned the last few buttons so you could skim your lips down his tummy, ending with a kiss to the tip of his covered cock. 

Geta pushed his pants down, and you tugged at the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down as well. As soon as you were able to, you slotted yourself back between his legs. You took his cock in your hand and pressed a kiss to the tip, making his breath hitch. “Eager,” he purred. 

“For you, Geta? Always,” you purred back. You passed your tongue over his leaking slit and moaned at the heady taste of him. You wasted no time in taking him into your mouth, making sure to get his cock nice and wet as you slowly bobbed your head. 

“That’s it,” Geta breathed. “So good.” 

The praise heated you from the inside out and you moaned around him. You squeezed your thighs together as you looked up at him. Geta’s lips were parted and you could see his fangs had extended. You were reminded of the last time you had felt his fangs sinking into you and you moaned again. 

Geta smiled. “I’m thinking about it, too,” he purred, petting your hair. “How delicious you are.” 

You pulled off of him and used your hand to make up for the loss of your mouth. “Wanna bite me again?” you asked. 

Something flashed in Geta’s eyes and he gripped your hair, hauling you up into a kiss. You scrambled into his lap, unable to contain your smile. “I wasn’t done,” you mused breathlessly as he used his hand in your hair to tip your head back so you bared your neck to him. 

“You’re sweet, but I have higher priorities than a blowjob,” Geta said, a growling edge to his voice that made you shiver with delight. 

“Hungry, Geta?” you teased. 

He leaned in to kiss your neck. “Starved,” Geta purred before sinking his fangs into your neck. 

Your hands flew to his shoulders as a keening whine left your throat. Geta drank from you in deep pulls that had you shaking and moaning. Heat shot through you so fast it left you feeling dizzy— though that could have been from the blood loss, too. You were almost giddy when he pulled off, knowing it would be your turn next. 

As expected, as soon as Geta had licked your blood from his lips, he bit into his wrist and offered it to you. You drank from it readily, relishing the subtle sweetness and the rush of his arousal adding to yours. 

You whined when Geta finally pulled his wrist from your mouth. The wound had closed, and before he could get too far, you licked away any excess blood from the site. “And here I thought I was the vampire,” he purred affectionately, using his thumb to brush away the few drops that escaped your greedy lips. 

“S’good,” you slurred. 

He smiled, and you noticed his fangs were still out. A needy whine curled in your throat and you surged forward, kissing him hard enough that his fang caught the edge of your lip and nicked it. Geta sighed through his nose and grabbed your ass, urging you to grind against him. The thin fabric of your shorts hardly acted as a barrier as his cock pressed insistently against you, and when you tilted your hips just right, the tip pushed against your entrance. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he growled. Before you could do anything to remedy this, he was clawing at your shorts, ripping them at the crotch seam. 

“G-Geta!”

“I’ll buy you new ones,” he murmured. Geta reached down and pushed aside the gusset of your panties so he could line up with your soaked entrance. Once he was in place, however, he made no move to go further. 

“What’s wrong?” you breathed. 

“I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

A smile played upon Geta’s lips. “An invitation,” he mused. 

“You—” You scoffed out a laugh and shook your head. In lieu of an answer, you pushed your hips down, your breath hitching as he filled you. 

“Oh my God,” Geta breathed. 

You nodded, biting your lower lip hard to keep from being too loud. “So good,” you gasped. 

Geta pushed his hands up your shirt so he could grab your waist. He used his hold on you to guide you up and then down again, helping you start to ride him. “That’s it,” Geta praised. “You’re such a good girl.” 

You whimpered and tried not to claw too harshly at his chest as your pussy spasmed around his cock. It was hard not to get too spun up when he knew just what to say to push you to the edge. You wanted to goad him on like he did to you, but you were at a loss— you were too busy feeling to form a cohesive thought. All you could think to do was squeeze him again and bounce a little faster. 

“Feel good, sweetheart?” he mused. 

You nodded quickly, a moan bleeding from your throat. 

“Do you like riding me?”

“Love it,” you answered breathlessly. “God, I fucking love it, Geta.” You moved your hands to his shoulders and dug your nails into his skin as another moan left you. 

He squeezed your waist, making you shiver. “That’s right,” Geta growled. “You’re mine, aren’t you, gorgeous?”

Pure heat flooded your body and your breath hitched in your chest. You nodded quickly, and the whine that left your throat was almost pained. “M’yours, Geta,” you slurred. 

Geta pulled you into a kiss, and the change in angle as you bumped against his chest made you moan into his mouth. Pleasure wracked your body, and you were digging your nails into his shoulders hard enough that a mortal man would have cried out in pain. You were so close to the edge you could taste it. Pleas dripped from your lips like prayers as you desperately rocked your hips, chasing the high that seemed just beyond your reach. 

One of Geta’s hands threaded in your hair and he tugged your head back enough to bare your throat to him. Anticipation curled in your center, but instead of biting you, he sucked a hickey just beneath your jaw. Such a simple gesture, yet it was all the push you needed to hit your climax. You shook as your pussy spasmed, still bouncing your hips as you soaked his cock. 

Geta leaned back and slid his hands down to your hips. He used his grip to keep you moving until he suddenly pushed you up, his cock sliding all the way out of you. You whined at the loss, but realized quickly that he had pulled out so he didn’t cum inside you. 

You both just stared at each other for a moment, panting. “Th-thanks,” you eventually managed. 

“My pleasure,” he replied with a weary smile. 

“I’ll, um, get something to clean you up,” you said with a puff of a laugh. You slid off him and hobbled on wobbly legs to get some paper towels from the kitchen. 

As he cleaned up and redressed, you took your shorts off to assess the damage. You sucked your teeth and shook your head as you looked at the giant hole that was once your center seam. “Really, Geta,” you scolded playfully, “I could have just taken them off.” 

“I was feeling impatient,” he replied breezily. “And anyway, you thought it was hot.”

“Not the point,” you grumbled.

Geta stood and pulled you into a kiss. “I’m sorry,” he said, and you found his apology to be genuine. 

You sighed through your nose and kissed him again, letting the shorts drop to the floor so you could wrap your arms around his neck. Geta trailed one hand down your back to your ass, giving it a playful squeeze. “You’re lucky I like you,” you mumbled against his lips. 

“Extraordinarily,” he agreed with a sweet smile. 

Yeah, okay, that made you melt a little bit. You huffed and hid your face in Geta’s neck, content with just hugging him for a while. Geta rubbed your back in long, languid strokes that made you want to curl up and purr. 

“What should we do now?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you grumbled, “you finished the project we were supposed to be working on.” 

Geta laughed. “Are you hungry? I could make you something to eat.” 

You pulled back so you could look up at him, your eyebrows furrowing. “What’s with you and cooking?”

Geta raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” he mused. 

“You’re a vampire,” you said. “And before that, you were an emperor. Neither of those are identities conducive to learning to cook.” 

He shrugged. “It’s a useful skill to have,” Geta answered. “And it makes it easier to pass as human.”

“But you don’t eat.”

“No,” he confirmed. 

You wrinkled your nose. “Then how do you know if the food is good or not?” you asked. 

Geta smiled wryly. “I’ve yet to hear a complaint from you, or any other human I’ve fed.” 

Something about thinking of Geta feeding other humans rubbed you the wrong way. You dropped your arms from his neck and scooped up your ruined shorts from the floor. 

“Don’t be jealous,” he mused. 

Fucking mind readers. “I’m not,” you insisted, padding to your bedroom to find something else to wear. 

“Eighteen hundred years is a long time to be around, sweetheart,” Geta reasoned, following you. “I can’t help that I’ve met a lot of people.” 

“I know that,” you sniffed. “I’m not jealous.” 

“It’s useless to lie to me, you know,” he purred, suddenly appearing in your path. You just barely avoided crashing into him. You glared up at him, which only seemed to amuse him further. Geta cupped your cheek and kissed your forehead. “Isn’t it enough that we have each other now?”

“You’re real fucking sappy, you know that?” You used a deadpan delivery to cover the way your heart beat wildly in your chest; it bothered you how easily you were falling head over heels for him. 

“I know,” Geta tutted sympathetically. 

You moved around him into your bedroom, and Geta once again trailed after you. You dropped the ruined shorts in the trash and went about rifling in your drawers for another pair, trying to ignore the way Geta greedily soaked in the surroundings. As you pulled a new pair from the drawer, you felt Geta sidle up behind you, his arm closing around your waist. 

“I think you should keep them off,” he purred against the shell of your ear. 

You shivered. “We just…”

“I know, I know,” Geta cooed. He kissed your shoulder. “But the night is still young.” He snaked his hand down your tummy. “And if I remember correctly, you’re off from work tomorrow.” 

“Uh-huh,” you breathed. 

“Which means I can keep you up as late as I want.” 

“Geta—”

Your phone started to ring, cutting you off. Confused, you went back to the living room and picked it up, your confusion only growing when you saw it was Caracalla. You answered the call. “Cara?” Your eyes darted to Geta as he joined you. “Are you okay?”

Dread threatened to encompass you as Caracalla’s voice shook on the other end of the line. “Something’s wrong.”  

Chapter Text

“Something’s wrong.” 

As soon as those words left his brother’s mouth, Geta took the phone from your hand. “What is it?” Geta barked. 

“Put him on speaker, Geta,” you insisted.

Geta rolled his eyes, but nevertheless set it to speakerphone.

“—was hungry, so I went out to one of my usual spots,” Caracalla was explaining. “And while I was there, I got this feeling, like…” He trailed off.

“What feeling?” Geta prodded when his brother was quiet for too long.

Caracalla hesitated. “I don’t want to say,” he said, and you could hear the fear creeping into his voice. “Can you just come home?”

“Caracalla, I swear to God, if this is some ploy—“

“It isn’t!” Caracalla insisted. “Please. Please just come home.”

“…Fine,” Geta replied. “We’re on our way.” He hung up and handed the phone back to you.

“We?” you repeated, raising your eyebrows.

“I guess you’ll need those shorts after all,” he mused, though you could tell his heart wasn’t in it. Caracalla’s call had clearly unnerved him. “Get your things.”

“Geta—“

“We really don’t have time to argue about this,” he said, an edge to his tone that left no room for argument. “Either pack, or I will do it for you.” 

You packed.

Within a few minutes, you had on a new pair of shorts and were carrying a bag filled with a fresh set of clothes and all your essentials to Geta’s car. “Do you really think there’s something wrong?” you asked as Geta started the car.

“I don’t know,” he murmured, “but I haven’t heard him that scared in a long time.” 

A chill ran through you. What could scare a centuries-old vampire? 

The drive to the twins’ house was silent. Your anxiety fed off of Geta’s intensity until you were ready to jump from the car the minute he pulled into the driveway. 

You followed Geta into the house. As soon as the door was shut behind you, Caracalla appeared in the living room. The panic was clear on his face and you went to him, aching to soothe him. “What happened, baby?” you asked, pulling him into a hug. He was shaking like a frightened child and he clung to you, a pained whine leaving his throat. 

“It’s okay, Cara,” Geta said, more gently than you had ever heard him speak to his brother. He joined the two of you and set a soothing hand on his brother’s back between his shoulder blades. “We’re here. We’re with you.” 

You stroked Caracalla’s hair until his shaking subsided and then coaxed him into a kiss. His shoulders sagged and he exhaled slowly through his nose. “Better?” you asked, holding his face in your hands.

Caracalla nodded, though he still looked miserable, his eyes shiny with unshed tears.

“Tell us what happened,” Geta prodded softly. 

Caracalla sniffled. “I just wanted to eat,” he croaked. “And I had picked someone out, but I got this…” He cringed as he remembered. “God, this horrible pain in my head. It felt like my skull was splitting, and then—“ Caracalla hiccupped, “—then I heard him.”

“Heard who, honey?” you asked, taking his hand. 

Caracalla looked up at his brother, and Geta recoiled slightly, shaking his head. “No, that can’t… You must’ve been imagining things,” Geta said.

“It was him,” Caracalla insisted, frustration bleeding into his voice. “I know it was, Geta. I’d know his voice anywhere.” 

“No!” Geta growled. 

“You never listen,” Caracalla shot back, his voice hoarse. “I’m telling you, it was Macrinus!”

The utterance of their sire’s name caused Geta to inhale sharply. Cold fear trickled into your stomach and formed a pit of dread that left you nauseated. “Are you sure, Cara?” you asked gently. 

Caracalla nodded. “I think I would know the man who’s been haunting my nightmares for millennia,” he said gravely. 

You looked back at Geta. “He wouldn’t be this scared if he wasn’t telling the truth, Geta,” you pointed out. 

Geta started to pace, running his hand over his face. “That can’t be,” he muttered. “He’s dead— dead, dead.”

“We never saw the body,” Caracalla protested.

“I always assumed they burned it…” Geta shook his head. “Anyway, he couldn’t be here.”

“Why not? We’re here.”

“ We’re here because you threw a dart at a map,” Geta scoffed. “We moved here on a whim. It isn’t as if this is some great hub of humanity.” 

You swallowed the urge to defend your city— now was not the time for you to get defensive. 

“What if he—?”

“Stop,” Geta said. “Don’t even say it.”

“Say what?” you asked.

“…What if he tracked us here?” Caracalla suggested weakly. 

Geta’s fists clenched. Now he was the one shaking, his shoulders visibly trembling as he stared at his brother. “We have to go,” he said suddenly. “We have to get out of here.”

“What?” you gasped.

“No!” Caracalla yelped at the same time. 

“If he’s here—“

“We don’t know that for sure,” Caracalla backpedaled. “I didn’t see him. It’s feasible he could be somewhere else, anywhere really, and just calling out.”

“If you heard him, he’s too close,” Geta said.

Caracalla moved closer to you and wrapped his arm around you, clearly seeking comfort. You gently kissed his shoulder. 

Geta softened at the sight. “I know we don’t want to leave her—“

“We can’t,” Caracalla insisted. 

Your eyes darted from brother to brother. “If you’re in danger—“

“We aren’t,” Caracalla interrupted with a shake of his head. “We’re so much stronger now, Geta.”

“Caracalla, he’s in our heads . We can’t fight that,” Geta retorted desperately. 

“What’s the other option?” Caracalla barked. “Running? We’ve tried that, and look what’s happened anyway. I’m tired, Geta.” He turned to look at you. “I don’t want to leave again,” he added weakly. 

Your heart broke for him. “I don’t want you to leave, either,” you offered. 

“See?” Caracalla looked at his brother again. “We can’t go.” 

Geta was silent for a long time, and you carefully extracted yourself from Caracalla to go to him. “I know this is scary,” you said softly, setting your hand on his chest, “but we should gather more information before you make a decision.”

“We?” he repeated, echoing your earlier question.

You nodded. “I’m here for you,” you said. “With you. I want to help.” 

Geta took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted.

“That’s okay.” You rubbed his chest. “We’ll figure it out.”

Caracalla came up behind you and wrapped his arm around your waist, using the other one to hold onto his brother’s arm. Geta placed his hand over Caracalla’s and took another deep breath. “Okay,” he said. 

Now that Caracalla was feeling safer, he was more or less back to his normal self, already nuzzling his nose against your neck. He used his hand on his brother to tug him closer until you were squeezed between the two twins. Geta’s hands rested on your hips, a deep sigh leaving him. 

“I’m sorry I ruined your date,” Caracalla hummed against your skin. 

“It’s okay,” you breathed shakily, tilting your head to the side to give him better access to your neck. “You, um, you mentioned you were hungry? Did you get to eat while you were out?”

Caracalla shook his head. 

“Did you… want to?”

“How generous of you,” he purred. 

“Can’t have you starving on me,” you teased weakly, your eyes falling shut as you felt his fangs brush against your skin. 

Caracalla’s fangs pierced your neck. The pain made you jolt against Geta, who rubbed your hip soothingly. The pain quickly morphed into heat as Caracalla drank from you. You whimpered and clutched at Geta’s shirt for support, your legs already shaking. The twins kept you in place, even as your knees weakened. 

Naturally, because Caracalla was the way that he was, he slipped his hand into your shorts, brushing his fingertips against your over-sensitive clit. 

“Oh my God,” you gasped. 

Caracalla slid his tongue languidly over his bitemark and took his hand back, but only so he could spin you around and push you against Geta’s chest. You whimpered as he kissed you and slotted his thigh between your legs. 

Geta, to your surprise, slid his hands up your body to your chest, squeezing your breasts through your bra. “You’re so good to us,” he praised against the shell of your ear. 

“S’easy to be when I get rewarded like this,” you mused as Caracalla pulled back a bit. You watched eagerly as he brought his hand up to his neck and used his thumbnail to slice deep enough that blood welled to the surface (had it always been that sharp?). He urged your head down, and you went willingly, closing your lips around the wound and sucking. His blood filled your mouth and you moaned, all too eager to swallow what he gave you. You could taste the bitterness of his fear, but it was quickly overshadowed by a sweet flood of arousal. As you had with Geta, when you could no longer drink from Caracalla, you licked away any blood that had escaped your lips. 

Caracalla groaned happily, urging you to grind against his thigh. “I think we could all do with a little stress relief,” he purred. 

“I’m inclined to agree,” Geta said, squeezing your breasts again. 

“I’m happy to be of use however you need me,” you breathed. 

Caracalla kissed you briefly before he dropped to his knees in front of you. You let out a delighted laugh as he pushed up your shirt so he could press kisses to your stomach. “What are you doing?” you mused, carding your hand through his hair. 

He looked up at you, blue eyes bright with mischief, and bit you. It was gentle, his fangs carefully retracted, but still hard enough to make you squirm. 

“Ow,” you grumbled, pushing his face away.

Caracalla chuckled. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your shorts. You held your breath as he pulled them down, dragging your panties along with them. ”Geta, hold her.”

“Hold me—?” You yelped as Geta’s arms wrapped snugly around your middle and he leaned back enough to lift you off your feet. Caracalla guided your legs over his shoulders and buried his face between your thighs. “Oh, God,” you gasped, your head falling back against Geta’s shoulder. You threaded one hand in Caracalla’s hair and reached the other hand back to pull Geta into a kiss. You sighed through your nose, your hips bucking as Caracalla flicked his tongue against your clit. 

“Be gentle,” Geta warned. “She’s still sensitive from earlier.” There was a smugness in his voice, like he wanted to rub it in Caracalla’s face that he had already fucked you. A shiver ran through you and you whimpered. 

Despite his brother’s attitude, Caracalla listened to him, lapping at your clit more lazily than before. You looked down at him, another whine leaving you as your eyes met his. A wave of heat rolled through your body and you pulled at his hair, suddenly feeling very impatient. Caracalla huffed out a laugh, but he gave you what you wanted, sliding his tongue against your entrance as his hands flexed around your thighs. You moaned as he nuzzled his nose against your clit. God, you loved that nose.

Caracalla lifted his head, grinning. “You like my nose, huh?” he purred.

You blushed brightly, flustered by his acknowledgment of your thought. “S’nice,” you mumbled, tugging lightly on his hair. “Can you put it back?”

Geta barked out a laugh. “She’s getting impatient,” he mused. “Maybe I should take over instead.” 

Caracalla huffed. “Can’t even give me a chance to tease my girl,” he grumbled. 

“ Our girl,” Geta corrected.

You bit back a smile. That’s not what he said earlier…

“What did he say earlier?” Caracalla whined. 

“Tattletale,” Geta whispered in your ear, making you laugh.

“It’s not my fault you can read my mind!” you protested. You pulled on Caracalla’s hair again. “Caracalla, please , keep going.”

“Tell me what he said first,” he insisted, though he did let you guide him back to your pussy. 

You bit your lower lip, remembering how Geta had claimed you as his while you rode him. 

Caracalla growled, assumedly having read your mind, and went back to eating you out, even more focused than before. 

“Oh,” you gasped, pulling his hair as you rolled your hips. Delicious heat pooled in your belly and you whimpered as Caracalla pressed his nose hard against your clit like you wanted. ”Just like that, Caracalla.”

Caracalla squeezed your thighs, moaning against your pussy. 

Geta, not one to be left out, slid his hand up your shirt and squeezed your breast. “Still mine,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear.

You shivered. Even if you thought he was being a bit unfair to Caracalla, you loved Geta’s possessiveness; mostly because you secretly enjoyed the competition it inspired between the twins. Being fought over, being needed— it was intoxicating. 

Caracalla pulled away, making you whine, and stood. He kissed you, pinning you against Geta’s chest, and urged you to hook your legs around his hips. “Let me show you who you really belong to,” Caracalla purred. 

Geta scoffed. “As if I’m not the one holding her up so you can fuck her.” 

“Yes, yes, performing the same function as a wall is clearly enough to stake a claim on her,” Caracalla huffed. “Can you shut the fuck up?” 

“You little—“

You reached back and pulled Geta into a kiss, cutting him off. Geta sighed through his nose and held you a little tighter, the extra pressure and restraint making you whimper. 

Caracalla pushed his pants down and lined up with your entrance, slipping into your slick cunt easily. “So fucking wet,” he groaned happily. “Did I do this to you, sweetheart?”

You turned your head to face Caracalla, biting your lower lip as you nodded. His smile made your heart flutter. You used your grip on his shirt to tug him into another kiss, clenching around him as he started to slowly move his hips. 

You inhaled sharply as Geta slid his hand between your legs, rubbing your clit as Caracalla fucked you. “Oh my God,” you breathed shakily. 

Caracalla moved his hands to your ass and squeezed, helping you angle your hips so he could push even deeper inside of you. “Who’s better?” he goaded.

Geta scoffed out a laugh. “Are you really asking that?” he mocked. “Feeling insecure, Caracalla?”

You cupped Caracalla’s face in your hands and kissed him sweetly. “You’re doing so good, baby,” you cooed. “You’re both making me feel so good.” 

Caracalla whined. “Tell me I’m better,” he insisted. Your breath hitched as he sped up his thrusts, well and truly pinning you against Geta. 

“If you have to beg for it, that means I’ve already won,” Geta purred. 

“I think I’m the one winning,” you mumbled in a daze, your impending orgasm clearing your brain of any thoughts besides how good the twins were making you feel. 

Caracalla kissed you, and you draped your arms around his neck, sighing happily through your nose. “You’re mine,” he murmured against your lips. “I don’t care if he’s here. I know you’re mine.”

The knot in your tummy snapped and you whimpered as your orgasm rolled through you, making your walls flutter around his cock. 

Caracalla let out a delighted laugh. “Is that all it takes, sweetheart?” he teased. 

“Can’t help it,” you whined. “It’s hot.” 

“At least she’s honest,” Geta purred. 

Caracalla grinned. “She didn’t cum when you claimed her,” he boasted. He kissed you until you were breathless. The drag of his cock inside you, combined with Geta’s fingers still pressed against your throbbing clit, threatened to push you into overstimulation. The heat that rolled steadily through you was so addictive that you couldn’t find it in you to ask them to stop. 

“Do you think—?” Geta started.

“Another one?” Caracalla panted. “Yeah. Keep going.”

Were they… ganging up on you? Somehow, that was hotter than the fighting. You swallowed hard and dropped your head back against Geta’s shoulder, a loud moan leaving your lips. 

Caracalla cursed under his breath. “God, I love that sound,” he groaned appreciatively. He rutted into you, pushing in as deep as he could and keeping his thrusts short so he stayed that deep.

Pleasure wracked your body, forming delicious tension in your muscles that pushed you higher and higher until you couldn’t take it anymore. You clung to Caracalla as your second orgasm flooded your body with warmth. 

“Fuck yes,” Caracalla purred. “You feel so good. I wanna cum in you. Can I?” 

Feeling drunk off your own pleasure, you licked your lips and hummed thoughtfully. The idea was appealing, but you weren’t quite ready for that yet. “Want you to cum in my mouth,” you decided.

“Holy shit,” Caracalla breathed with a laugh. “Yes, ma’am.” He eased out of you and stroked his cock as Geta allowed you to drop to your knees. Geta even went so far as to gather your hair in his hands, keeping it back from your face as you opened your mouth invitingly. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” Caracalla murmured. He eased his cock into your mouth, and it only took a few thrusts to push him over the edge. You swallowed what he gave you, until he pulled out and let the dregs of his orgasm splatter across your tongue and lips.

Well. That was one way to claim you. You licked the cum off your lips and hummed happily, looking up at Caracalla. 

“So pretty,” he purred. 

While Caracalla pulled his pants back up, Geta helped you to your feet. Caracalla handed you your panties and shorts so you could get dressed again, and then he kissed you. “Thank you,” he cooed.

You smiled. “Like I said, happy to be of use.” You stretched languidly and turned to Geta. “Do you need anything?” you asked.

Geta chuckled. “Knowing you’re satisfied is enough for me,” he assured you. 

“What he means is, he already came in his pants,” Caracalla stage-whispered. 

Geta rolled his eyes. “Clearly, I have not,” he huffed. “So, shut up.”

Your stomach growled, drawing the attention of both twins.

“You haven’t fed her yet?” Caracalla asked, horrified.

“I was going to, but then you called,” Geta protested. 

“It’s okay,” you assured them. “But, I am pretty hungry, so could we—?”

“On it,” Geta interrupted, heading to the kitchen. 

Caracalla wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder. “Thank you,” he said again.

You melted against him, affection radiating through your whole body. “Of course, baby.”

“For everything, I mean,” Caracalla clarified, “not just the sex. For coming here, and comforting us, and just… being you.” 

In your swirl of affection, you felt a pulse of something deeper. You turned in his arms and hugged him tight, burying your face in his shoulder. You exhaled slowly, three little words on the tip of your tongue that you weren’t quite ready to say. Instead, you squeezed him a little tighter. ”That’s really sweet of you to say, Cara,” you murmured. “Thank you.” 

He rubbed your back. “Can I tell you something?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Of course.”

“I’m really glad we met you.” Caracalla pulled back a little and tilted your chin up so you looked up at him. 

“M-Me too,” you said. Tears pricked your eyes, brought on by another strong surge of affection. 

Caracalla kissed you. You sighed through your nose. “You’re staying the night, right?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.”

He smiled. “You wanna see my room?”

You grinned. “Yeah, baby, I do,” you said. 

Caracalla slung his arm around your shoulders and brought you to his room. The first thing you noticed was how utterly different it was from Geta’s. It was messy, for one, which you expected. The walls were plastered in posters of all sorts: movies, bands, pin-ups and vintage nudes, trippy art— there was no discernible pattern, but somehow it was cohesive. There didn’t appear to be a regular lamp in sight, but there were LED string lights lining the room and… was that the aforementioned lava lamp? You pulled away from Caracalla and went over to his desk. 

Underneath the desk, you could see glowing rainbow LED lights shining from his gaming PC. The top of the desk wasn’t too bad, minus a few cups that appeared to have been stained with blood, and next to his monitor was a tall lava lamp. Red gloop bubbled and drifted serenely in purple liquid, illuminated from beneath. 

“Pretty sick, right?” Caracalla mused. 

“Totally,” you said with a laugh. You tore your gaze away from the lava lamp and wandered over to his bed, which was pushed into the corner of the room. To your astonishment, the bed was neatly made. 

“Despite what Geta says, I do wash my sheets,” he assured you. “I, um, actually just changed them this morning. In case you… I don’t know… wanted to sleep in here?”

Again, you felt that insistent throb of affection deep in your chest. “I like your room, Caracalla,” you told him. 

He beamed. “You do?”

You grinned back. “I do,” you confirmed. “It’s very you.” 

“Yeah! Look—“ Caracalla drew your attention to a large flatscreen television he had attached to the wall opposite his bed, “—so we can watch stuff, if you want.”

“I love watching stuff,” you mused.

“Me too!” He went to his desk and held up a little remote for you to see. “And look, I can change the lights.” The lights were currently a dim and cozy yellow, but as he pressed buttons on the remote, they cycled through colors. “What should we set it to?” he wondered. 

God, he was so fucking cute. “Which one do you like best, baby?” you asked, taking a seat on his bed. 

“Mm, I think I like purple best,” Caracalla answered, clicking the button that illuminated his room in purple light. His lava lamp seemed to glow even brighter. 

“I like purple, too,” you agreed. 

Caracalla set the remote down and joined you on the bed. He took your hand and squeezed, bringing it to his lips so he could kiss your knuckles. “I like getting to spend time with you alone,” he said.

You grinned, having to look away from him for a second because you were too overwhelmed by another rush of affection. “Yeah,” you agreed, “it’s really nice.” 

Caracalla scooted closer to you, his thigh pressing against yours. “I really like you,” he admitted.

“I like you, too, Cara—“

“Okay, but I like -like you,” he insisted. 

You breathed out a laugh and looked at him, taken in by his puppy dog eyes. “You do, huh?” you mused. “Wouldn’t’ve guessed that based on your behavior around me.” 

Caracalla laughed. “I like to make my affections obvious,” he said. “Unlike some people we know…”

As if on cue, Geta appeared. “(Y/N), I should’ve asked, is grilled cheese okay?” he asked. “I also have a can of tomato soup to go with it, if that interests you.”

You bit your bottom lip to keep from laughing. “Yeah, Geta, that’s perfect,” you replied. 

“Okay—“ He stopped short when he noticed you and Caracalla both visibly holding back laughter. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” you assured him. “Thank you for checking.”

Geta narrowed his eyes. “…Okay,” he said, surprisingly not pushing any further. “The pan is heating up right now. Your food should be ready in just a bit.”

“Thank you, Geta,” you replied earnestly. 

Geta nodded and left. As soon as he was gone, you and Caracalla burst into giggles. 

“See, Cara, he likes me,” you argued.

“Well, of course he likes you,” Caracalla sighed. “He’s just so bad at showing it.”

“He’s really not,” you said, shaking your head. “He’s just… subtle; compared to you, at least.” 

“Yeah, everyone’s subtle compared to me,” mused Caracalla. He got up and went to his desk. “Can I give you something?”

“Sure,” you chirped.

“Hold out your hand and close your eyes.”

You did as he asked, excited and curious to see what he would do. Plastic rolled against your skin as Caracalla slipped a bracelet over your hand. You opened your eyes once it was secure around your wrist. Made from pony beads and elastic, the bracelet was cute and colorful, with hearts and stars scattered amongst the regular beads. You turned your wrist and found your name spelled out in little block beads. 

“I made it for you!” Caracalla cheered. “Do you like it?” 

“I love it,” you squeaked, utterly touched by the gift. “You really made this for me?” 

He nodded, clearly giddy. “I did! Do you want more? I can make you more!”

You laughed. “If you wanna make me more, I’ll wear them,” you assured him, “but this is perfect. Thank you, Caracalla.” 

Caracalla sat down again and kissed you sweetly, his hand taking yours. “One day I’ll take you to a rave and teach you how ravers exchange bracelets,” he promised. “We can make a bunch before we go, so we have lots to give out.” 

How the hell was he so cute? “That sounds like fun,” you said.

“But this one’s just for you,” he said, his free hand playing with one of the star beads on your bracelet. 

“Oh, absolutely. I’m never taking it off,” you assured him. “Those ravers are gonna have to pry this bracelet off my cold, dead body.”

Caracalla cackled, delighted by your impassioned vow. “I wouldn’t let them,” he promised in return. “And anyway, there wouldn’t be a cold, dead body for them to pillage, because I’d make you like me.”

“Last I checked, you were also cold and dead,” you mused.

Caracalla rolled his eyes. “I can warm up,” he argued. His smile turned lascivious and he scooted closer to you. “Want me to prove it?” 

Before you could answer his question, Geta reappeared in the doorway, plate in hand. He handed the plate to you, and on it was a grilled cheese sandwich and a small bowl of tomato soup to dip it in. “This looks delicious,” you sighed happily. “Thank you, honey.” 

“You’re welcome,” Geta said. He sat beside you, his nose wrinkling in mild disgust as he looked around Caracalla’s room. “You couldn’t clean your room before you brought her in here?”

“The room is fine, Geta,” you tutted. 

“Maybe, but it’s just so gaudy ,” he sighed.

“You’re more than welcome to leave,” Caracalla huffed. “No one’s making you sit there. You know, in fact, I’d prefer it if you left.” 

“Tough,” Geta sneered. “Tonight was supposed to be my date night.” 

You sighed through your nose and bit into your sandwich. You hummed happily at the taste and dipped it into the tomato soup before you took another bite.

“How is it?” Geta asked, eyes flitting anxiously over your face.

“Really good,” you said after you swallowed. 

He smiled. “See, I told you. I’m a good cook.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “I never said you weren’t, Geta.” 

When you brought the sandwich to your mouth for another bite, Geta focused on the bracelet around your wrist. “What’s that?”

“I made it for her,” Caracalla answered for you, since your mouth was full. His tone was defensive, likely expecting Geta to belittle the gift. 

Geta took your hand so he could inspect the bracelet. “Huh,” he said after a moment.

“Super cute, right?” you prompted. 

Geta nodded. “…Do I get one?”

You laughed brightly. “What?”

“You want me to make you a bracelet?” Caracalla asked, clearly stunned. 

Geta shrugged, shifting uncomfortably under the stares of you and Caracalla. “Well, if you made (Y/N) one, I just thought—“

“Yes,” Caracalla interrupted eagerly. “Of course I’ll make you a bracelet.” He hopped up from the bed and bounded over to his desk, rifling around for his supplies. “I think I have some black beads somewhere,” he murmured to himself. You finished your sandwich as you watched him laser in on the bracelet creation process. He was so focused; you once again found yourself marveling at how cute he was. 

You leaned closer to Geta. “You’re a good brother,” you whispered.

“Hardly,” he mused in return. Geta nodded to your now-empty plate. “Done?” 

You nodded and handed it to him. “Thank you!”

Geta smiled and stood. “Do you need anything else?” 

“A kiss?” you asked in return, grinning up at him. 

“Say no more,” he purred. Geta gave you a quick kiss before he swept out of the room to take your plate to the kitchen. 

You stood and wandered over to Caracalla, standing behind him to watch him work. As opposed to the varied colors of your bracelet, Geta’s bracelet only had red and black beads. His design was also more intricate than yours, made with three rows of beads instead of your simple string of beads. “This is called a cuff,” Caracalla supplied as he weaved the beads together into a checkerboard pattern.

“That’s pretty cool, Cara,” you said, squeezing his shoulder. You turned to go sit back down, and you yelped because Geta was right beside you. He was studying Caracalla’s creation, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Geta…?”

“It is pretty cool,” he echoed, sounding equal parts intrigued and disappointed— did he not want to like his brother’s hobby? 

You smiled. You liked that they were bonding. Despite their feigned competition for your affections, you could tell they loved each other, even if they rarely showed it. 

Geta side-eyed you, probably listening in on your thoughts. Your smile grew. He rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched into a small smile. 

“Can you guys sit down or something?” Caracalla mused, his hands still working methodically as he made the cuff. “You’re making me a little self-conscious.”

“That would be a first,” Geta mumbled. He took your hand and pulled you back over to the bed. He flopped onto it, sprawling out before gesturing for you to join him. You did so happily, laying on top of him and resting your head on his chest. It was strange to hear no heartbeat, but if you didn’t focus too hard on it, you were fine— much like your approach to every other situation you’d been in since meeting the twins. 

Geta stroked your hair, his breath leaving him in a long sigh. You shifted, wiggling higher up his body so you could nuzzle into his neck. Geta puffed out a laugh as you pressed feather-light kisses to his skin. “Sweetheart…”

“I just like you,” you muttered. “And I like kissing you.” 

Geta hummed and turned his head so you could kiss him properly. He wrapped his arms around you, and then it was your turn to sigh. You deepened the kiss, warmth radiating from your chest just from the feeling of his lips against yours. You loved him. 

Geta paused, and you were seized by sudden panic. “No, no,” you said preemptively. “Shhh. Don’t.” 

“(Y/N)…”

“Noooo,” you insisted, burying your face in his neck. “This wouldn’t be an issue if you couldn’t read my mind, so we’re not going to make it one, okay?” 

“Baby—“ Geta tried again.

“Nope!” You shook your head. 

“It’s okay—“

“Geta,” you warned, “I said don’t.” 

He exhaled slowly through his nose. “Alright,” he said. “But I want you to know, I think it’s silly you won’t just say it.”

“Yeah?” you pressed. “You say it, then.”

Geta hesitated, and you sucked your teeth. “Exactly,” you huffed, rolling off of him. 

“Hey, wait a minute,” Geta said, catching your arm as he sat up. “I want to talk about this.” 

Your eyes darted over to Caracalla, who was still hyperfocused on the cuff he was making. “Fine,” you said, squirming away from Geta. “In the hall.” 

He followed you out of Caracalla’s bedroom. “If I didn’t hear it, would you have told me?” Geta asked as you shut the bedroom door. 

“No,” you answered honestly.

“Why?”

“It’s too soon.”

Geta huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes. “Time has no meaning to me,” he said dryly.

“Okay, well, us humans still have to reckon with the fact that we haven’t even been dating for a week, Geta,” you said. “I shouldn’t—“

“But you do,” he insisted. “So what’s all the fuss about?” Geta moved into your personal space and set his hands on your waist, pulling you enticingly closer. “We’ve had sex already. We’re adults—“

“Some of us more than others,” you coughed, making Geta laugh.

“Is that a dig about my age?” he mused.

“Maybe,” you replied with a smile.

“The age gap is rather problematic…”

“Are we being serious about this or not?” you whined.

“I’m trying to follow your lead,” Geta protested. “Do you want me to be serious?”

You hesitated. “I don’t know…”

“Listen,” he said, taking your head in his hands, “I’ll tell you what I do know.” Geta looked you in the eyes to show he was being serious. “We’ve had sex, which chemically increases our bond, we’ve shared blood , which chemically increases our bond, and I can hear your thoughts. Caracalla and I have become very attached to you. You care for us, we care for you. Do you think it’s unusual that you would love me, based on all these factors?” 

“…No,” you said, feeling small. 

“No,” he agreed. Geta dropped his hands to your shoulders. “I think it’s normal— well, as normal as our situation can get.”

“Yeah, dating two vampire twins isn’t really a typical milestone every girl goes through,” you agreed flatly. 

Geta smiled. “You’re deflecting.”

“Can you blame me?”

“Not at all,” he amended. 

You exhaled hard through your nose. “All this reassurance, but we haven’t reached the root of the issue, which is if it’s reciprocated,” you said. 

Geta narrowed his eyes. “You’re really questioning that?”

“Geta!”

“Okay! Yes, of course it’s reciprocated,” Geta confessed. “You think I would do all of this if it wasn’t? You think I want to stay here?”

A pulse of hurt made you recoil. “You don’t want to be here?” you asked.

“Sweetheart, you know I don’t mean it like that,” he groaned. “I just mean… with everything that’s happened, clearly I’m invested.”

“Okay, well, temporary investment doesn’t necessarily mean—“ you swallowed hard, almost unable to continue, “—love, Geta.”

“For me, it does,” he said. “Can’t you see that?” Geta ran his hand through his hair. “It’s been so long since I’ve been interested in another person— in anything , really— but meeting you was like…” He shook his head. “I don’t know, it was like I was finally seeing the sun for the first time.” 

You wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor. Did he really mean that?

Geta continued on. “And then fucking Caracalla comes in and does what he always does, and I thought I’d lost my one chance at happiness in hundreds of years, but then you just…” He puffed out a laugh. “You surprised me. And I was astonished at my own surprise, because I didn’t think anything could surprise me anymore— and you keep doing it! You keep surprising me!” he marveled. “So, yes, sweetheart, consider your feelings reciprocated.” He only hesitated a moment before finishing with, “I love you.”

You stared at each other, both of you close to panting from the intensity of the emotions surging between you. “And… Caracalla…?”

“Of course,” Geta sighed. “He’s obsessed with you.”

You flushed and looked down at the floor. “Obsession isn’t love either,” you mumbled.

“Well, what is love to you?” Geta prodded. “Since you want to get specific.”

“Well…! I don’t know!” you huffed. “It’s more than a feeling.”

In the bedroom, you could hear Caracalla start singing “More than a Feeling” by Boston. 

“Caracalla!”

“Sorry!” he called back and went silent again.

You sighed and scrubbed at your face with your hands. “It’s… like a commitment,” you decided.

“Consider us committed,” Geta mused. “And what was that you said earlier? About being here for us, and how we’ll figure things out together?” He tilted his head. “Is that not commitment? Is that not love ?”

You bit your bottom lip. He had you there. “You should’ve been a lawyer instead of a historian,” you grumbled.

Geta grinned. “You’re just mad because I’m correct,” he purred. “And, listen, if you’re that worried about whether or not it’s actually love right now, it’ll get there, right? I’m pretty sure that’s the whole thing with love… that it grows with time.” 

You took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing your eyes. Annoyingly, he had a point. Besides, your situation was already so strange— what was the use in being concerned about socially acceptable relationship timelines? If you loved them, you loved them. Simple as that. Confessing your love didn’t need to be some big, dramatic reveal (though you may have inadvertently made it that way). 

“Okay,” you said.

“Yeah?” Geta asked with a smile. “Okay, what?”

“I love you.”

Geta’s lips crashed into yours before you had time to process that he had been surging towards you the millisecond the words left your lips. You squeaked as Geta swept you up into a hug, his lips on yours the whole time. “Say it again,” he prompted. 

“I love you,” you breathed with a laugh. 

You startled as Caracalla opened the door. ”What about me?” he asked.

You softened. “I love you, too, Cara,” you assured him. 

Caracalla grinned. “I know,” he said. “Heard you think it earlier.”

Fucking. Mind readers. 

“Great. I’m glad we’re all on the same page,” you sighed. “My turn now. Tell me.” 

Caracalla laughed. “I love you,” he said. “Also, I finished your bracelet, Geta.” Caracalla offered the finished cuff to his brother, who admired it for a moment before slipping it on.

“You’re very casual about this,” you said to Caracalla. “The love thing I mean.”

Caracalla shrugged. “I don’t know. I think it’s cool.” 

“I told you, he doesn’t feel emotions the same way we do,” Geta murmured in your ear. 

“I feel things!” Caracalla protested. 

“But not the same way ,” Geta insisted. 

Caracalla huffed, glancing between you and his brother. “Whatever,” he mumbled and retreated to his room again. 

You sighed through your nose and looked up at Geta. 

“I’m not going to apologize for stating a fact,” Geta said, anticipating your request. 

“He’s sensitive,” you tried.

“And? I’m sensitive, too,” Geta replied, frowning. 

You suppressed a smile. “Clearly,” you said dryly. You patted Geta’s chest and returned to Caracalla’s room. He was sprawled out on his bed, scrolling on his phone, but he looked up when you entered. “Are you okay?”

Caracalla hesitated. “I do feel things,” he repeated. “Love, for example.”

You smiled and sat beside him on the bed. “I know, baby,” you cooed.

He sat up, still looking forlorn. “I’m not… I’m not good at talking like Geta is,” he said, and you could sense a thread of frustration in his voice. “I never have been. I wish I could just show you what I feel.”

You held up your wrist with the bracelet on it. “You did,” you assured him. “And you express yourself fine, Cara.”

“You’re just saying that,” Caracalla sighed. 

“You can literally read my mind, you know I’m not just saying that,” you scoffed, poking him in the side. “I like you how you are, baby.”

He bit his bottom lip, his eyes getting glassy with unshed tears. “You do?”

Your heart skipped a beat and you sucked your teeth, taking his face in your hands. “Of course I do, Caracalla,” you cooed. You kissed his forehead and then his lips. “I love you.” 

Caracalla sighed, kissing you hard as he dragged you on top of him. You went easily, moving your hands to bracket his head as you straddled him. Surprisingly, you didn’t feel any sexual intent in the kiss— besides Caracalla’s baseline intention that always seemed to be simmering just below the surface. It was clear he just wanted to show you how much that meant to him. 

When he finally parted from you, you cupped his face in your hands, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “I love you,” you said.

Caracalla smiled, and you sighed at the sight. He had such a sweet smile. “I love you, too,” he said. Caracalla skimmed his hands up your sides, letting out a sigh of his own.

You looked up as Geta approached the bed and reached for him. He took your hand and kissed it, but didn’t join you on the bed. 

“What’s up?” you asked.

“I’m going to leave you here with Caracalla.”

“What?” you and Caracalla asked at the same time.

“I have some research to do,” Geta explained. 

“Where are you going?” you asked, alarmed.

Geta smiled. “I’ve got friends of my own, believe it or not,” he mused. 

“But—“ Caracalla tried.

“I’ll be safe,” Geta interrupted with a shake of his head. “Promise.” 

You frowned and climbed off of Caracalla so you could stand beside Geta. “Do you really have to do it right now?”

Geta nodded. “The sooner, the better.” He kissed your forehead. “I’ll be back by the time you wake up.”

“I don’t like this,” you stated.

“Noted,” he mused and kissed you. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you mumbled, sitting back down on the edge of Caracalla’s bed.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he assured you, and then he left.

You looked to Caracalla, and he opened his arms for you. You went to him and nestled yourself against his side, holding him tightly. 

“You’re nervous,” he said.

“Aren’t you?”

He cracked a smile. “I try not to be, as a rule,” Caracalla mused. “But yeah, a little.” 

You sighed heavily and buried your face in his neck. “Why did it have to be tonight?” you mumbled. “He couldn’t wait until tomorrow? I could’ve gone with him…”

“You know, for as much as Geta gives me shit for being impatient, he’s just as bad,” Caracalla huffed. 

“You know he finished our project, too?” you told Caracalla with a pout. “It’s not that big of a deal, but I was supposed to help, and I didn’t get to.” 

“What? That sucks,” Caracalla said, sounding more sympathetic than you’d ever heard him.

You smiled and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for your support,” you mused.

“I’ll always support you,” Caracalla laughed, turning onto his side so he could pull you against his chest. He kissed all over your face, making you giggle until he finally kissed your lips. “You know why?” he asked.

“Why?” you asked in return, smiling.

“Because I love you.” 

Even as you kissed him, you had difficulty dimming your smile. ”I love you, too,” you cooed. 

Chapter Text

Late-afternoon light streamed in through a thin crack in Caracalla’s curtains as you blinked open your eyes. Caracalla was tucked against you, still asleep, and you rolled away from him so you could sit up. The rest of the room was dark, with the exception of a mushroom-shaped night light jutting from the wall. No sign of Geta.

You kissed Caracalla’s forehead and got out of bed, padding softly out of the room to the bathroom. Once you were finished in the bathroom, you went to Geta’s room and pushed open the door.

He wasn’t in there, either.

Panic seized you and you returned to Caracalla’s room to get your phone. You went to the living room so you wouldn’t disturb Caracalla’s sleep. You were fairly certain such a thing was impossible— the consensus was still out, though, and you’d rather be safe than sorry. You dialed Geta’s number and paced the living room as you listened to the rings. 

“We’re sorry, the number you’re trying to reach—“

You hung up with a frustrated huff and dialed again, only to get more ringing and then the unavailable message again. 

When your third call went to voicemail, you felt tears prick your eyes as panic well and truly set in. Something must have happened. What if he was in trouble? What if he was hurt ? What if—?

The door unlocked and Geta walked through, carrying a stack of books in his arms. He promptly dropped them as you launched yourself at him. “What happened?” he exclaimed, halting you so you didn’t bowl him over. “Why are you crying?” 

“I thought you were dead ,” you wailed.

“What??”

“I-I called you, and you didn’t answer,” you explained through hiccuping sobs. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed gently, “I’m sorry. My phone died while I was researching.” Geta kissed the top of your head. “It’s okay, I’m okay.” 

You sniffled and lightly smacked his chest. “Bring a charger with you next time,” you scolded. “This is not the time for you to be absentminded about your phone’s battery life.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, closing the front door. “In all honesty, I thought you’d still be asleep. I’m glad I didn’t stop to get you breakfast like I wanted to… I’m afraid if I tacked on a few extra minutes, you would have gone postal.”

“It’s not funny, Geta,” you whined. 

Geta suppressed his smile and nodded, trying very hard to look serious. “You’re right,” he agreed. “It isn’t.”

You huffed and bent down to pick up the books he dropped. You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked at the first few titles. “More history books?” you asked, confused. “What, you didn’t have enough?”

“These ones are… different,” Geta explained. “They might have the information I need.” 

“Which is…?”

“What happened to Macrinus after Caracalla and I left Rome,” Geta sighed. “Believe it or not, it’s hard to find primary sources from eighteen hundred years ago.” 

You tilted your head as you considered the titles again. “Okay, but how is… Mutilation and Transformation going to help you?” you asked with a frown. 

“Read the subtitle.”

“… damnatio memoriae and Roman imperial portraiture? ”

“Your Latin pronunciation could use some work,” Geta tutted with a playful smile. 

“That’s not fair, you got to actually speak it before it was a dead language,” you protested. 

Geta shrugged and plucked the book from your hands, hauling the completed stack to the coffee table. “It’s likely he’s memorialized somehow,” he sighed. “He was emperor, after all, even if it wasn’t for very long.” 

“What if you don’t find him in there?” you asked.

Geta’s jaw clenched. “Then I’ll keep looking,” he answered quietly. 

You went to him and took his hand, leaning up to kiss him. Geta relaxed. “What did you do while you were gone?” you asked, pulling him onto the couch with you.

“Saw a friend of mine,” he answered vaguely. “And then went to the library when it opened.” 

The twinge of jealousy you felt was annoying, but unavoidable. You tried not to let it show on your face, but of course, Geta saw right through you. 

“Really?” he mused.

“Shut up ,” you huffed. You rolled your shoulders back to work out the tension there. “What’s your friend like?” You tried to sound upbeat and genuinely interested— and you were interested, but maybe not for the right reasons.

“She’s—“

God help you, but you bristled.

“ Really ?” Geta laughed. 

“I should’ve picked a boyfriend who can’t read minds,” you grumbled, burying your face in your hands.

“Instead you have two who can. How’d you fuck up that badly?” he teased. 

“Woe is me,” you sighed. “Can you continue, please? And ignore my innermost thoughts?” 

“But it’s fun listening to your innermost thoughts,” Geta purred, sliding closer to you. 

“Yes, yes, you’re very sexy and unsettling,” you deadpanned, setting your hand on his chest. “Don’t think you can distract me.” 

“I don’t think, I know I—“

“Geta,” you scolded.

Geta held up his hands in surrender and settled back, sprawling out in that way he knew drove you wild. You had to look away from him, crossing your arms over your chest as you fought not to grind your teeth. “Sweetheart…”

You sighed through your nose and looked at him, unable to help yourself. He twitched his fingers in a come-hither motion and you shook your head. “I’m listening,” you said, “and you’re explaining.”

Geta pouted. “And I can’t hold you while I do so?”

“You are so spoiled,” you said with a laugh.

Geta grinned. “Once an emperor, always an emperor,” he agreed. “So…?”

“Tell me about the rest of your night, and we’ll see.” 

He groaned, tipping his head back. You eyed his neck, your resolve softening a little. God damn him. “But I missed you,” Geta lamented. 

“You’re annoying.”

“And you’re lying,” he said, lifting his head so he could grin at you. “Fine. I’ll tell you.” Geta sat up, running his hand through his hair. “My friend is a witch—“

“A witch?” you repeated. “Like a real, bona fide witch?”

“Yes…?”

“Like, she can do magic and it works? Magic exists?” you asked.

“Does that surprise you?” he mused. “You, the person dating not one, but two vampires?”

“Well, I—! Yes!” you admitted with a laugh. 

“Why?”

“I guess I… didn’t think about it that hard?”

“So, what, you think vampirism is somehow not related to magic?”

“Again,” you said, “didn’t think that hard!”

“Maybe we should stop drinking from you, I think it’s making you stupid,” he teased. 

“God, you’re such an asshole!” you marveled, smacking his arm, which only made him laugh. “You’re in rare form today, Geta.”

“Well, I got some good news,” he said. 

“Which would be…?”

“My friend couldn’t find any trace of Macrinus,” Geta explained. “If he is alive, wherever he is, he isn’t close to us.” 

“Oh!” You blinked. “Then how…?”

“I don’t know,” he said, his face falling into its usual stern expression. Geta rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. “Despite everything, I do believe Caracalla. I just can’t figure out why Macrinus would choose now to make a move.” 

“How did your friend—?”

“Salem,” he supplied.

“Salem,” you repeated dubiously. “... Are you kidding?”

“I am not. Fun bit of irony, no?”

You sighed and rubbed between your eyebrows, trying to stave off a headache. “How did Salem figure that out, exactly?” 

He smiled wryly. “Would you think I was bullshitting you if I told you a crystal ball?”

“Absolutely I would.”

Geta shrugged. “Well, I can’t change the fact that that’s how she did it,” he sighed. “Although I believe she calls it a scrying stone.” 

“Right….” You nodded. “Sure. Why not? Everything about this is already so goddamn weird.” 

“Now you’re getting it,” Geta mused. 

“So,” you started, your eyebrows furrowing, “you think that he’s definitely still alive?” You winced. “Not alive alive, but you know what I mean.” 

“Or getting there, yes,” he confirmed, his expression getting stormy. “I have a theory, but I’m not sure. That’s why…” He gestured to the stack of books in lieu of finishing his sentence. 

“Did you go to the college library?” you wondered, narrowing your eyes as you took in the rest of the titles. “Are these ones…” you ran your finger along the book spines at the bottom of the stack, “…about vampires?” You looked up at him. “A millennium of experience not enough to make you an expert?” you teased. 

Geta rolled his eyes. “Pardon me for trying to scrounge up something more reliable than my brother and I’s memories.” 

“You’re such a good little researcher,” you cooed. 

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated,” he said flatly.

“I wasn’t being sarcastic,” you said with a smile. You scooted towards him and Geta softened immediately, leaning in to kiss you. You set your hand on his chest and slid it slowly up to his shoulder. You felt him shiver, and you had to bite back a smile. You liked knowing you affected him the same way he affected you. Maybe you could tease him for once, just to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Geta murmured, his hand sliding up your thigh so he could pull you closer.

“Too late for that, I fear,” you said with a laugh. “What’s wrong, Geta? Scared you’ll like it?”

Geta growled playfully. “More like I’m worried you’ll like it a little too much.” 

“Only one way to find out,” you purred as you leaned in to kiss him again. 

“In order to find out, we’d need to have a moment alone to ourselves,” he huffed, lifting his head. 

As if on cue, Caracalla stepped into the living room, yawning and stretching. He had a serious case of bedhead, and he hadn’t bothered to get dressed, so he was in just his boxers. 

You grinned and kissed Geta on the cheek before you stood. “Good morning, sweetheart,” you greeted. 

“Good morning,” Caracalla replied, grinning as you went to give him a kiss. “I got a little worried when you weren’t in bed, but I heard you talking, so it was fine.” 

“You should’ve seen me earlier,” you sighed. “Geta wouldn’t answer the phone and I was freaking .” 

“For like 5 minutes max,” Geta groaned. “I was walking through the door!” 

“He’s the worst,” Caracalla tutted sympathetically. 

Geta dragged his hand down his face. “Honestly, you’re both impossible.” 

“Guilty as charged,” Caracalla drawled. “How was your little side quest last night?” 

“Not quite as fruitful as I hoped, but reassuring, nonetheless,” he sighed. “We’re safe— for now at least.” 

“See?” Caracalla smiled. “I told you we shouldn’t leave. All that fuss over a false alarm.” 

“A fuss that you made, Caracalla,” Geta groaned. 

Caracalla simply shrugged. 

“I think you should thank Geta for checking anyway,” you prompted, nudging Caracalla with your elbow. 

“Thank you, Geta,” Caracalla said, his intonation that of a child being forced to apologize. 

“Very convincing,” Geta replied flatly. “You’re welcome.” 

Satisfied, you wandered to the kitchen to get some breakfast. Part of you wished that Geta had indeed picked you up food before coming home, but he was right to think that you would have panicked even harder if he was gone for any longer. 

In a rare moment alone, you got to reflect as you fixed yourself breakfast. You thought about the night you found out they were vampires, as well as what Geta told you about Macrinus and their turning. Something bothered you about it all, but you couldn’t quite place what. 

You walked back into the living room, feeling a pulse of affection at the sight of the twins just lounging in domesticity. Geta sat on one side of the couch, already paging through a book, while Caracalla was slumped on the other side, playing a game on his phone. 

You loved them. You loved being there with them and watching them just be. Sure, dating two vampires was a weird thing to fathom, but it was hard to feel concern about the substantial age difference when all that time between you had resulted in this moment. It felt almost fated that you had met them. 

“And you say I’m sappy,” Geta remarked, not looking up from his book.

“I think it’s sweet,” Caracalla chimed in, glancing up at you with a smile. 

“I take my thoughts back, you guys suck,” you grumbled, taking a seat in one of the chairs instead of your usual spot between them. 

“Literally,” Caracalla teased. 

You huffed out a laugh and shook your head before taking a bite of your food. “I have a question,” you said after you swallowed.

“I have an answer,” Geta responded airily, flipping another page. 

“Why couldn’t you tell me?”

Geta looked up then, narrowing his eyes as he tried to decipher your question. “Couldn’t tell you what?”

“When Cara bit me, you couldn’t just tell me you’re vampires, you made me guess. Why?”

Geta sighed, finally closing his book. “That’s… complicated.”

“Everything’s complicated with you two,” you mused. “I’m used to it.” 

Geta cracked a smile. “True,” he agreed. Geta sat up and ran his hand through his hair. “When Macrinus turned us, he made us promise to never tell anyone what we are,” he explained. “We can’t break the promise, even if we want to. It’s another one of those rules that evades me. There was an element of mind control there, I’m fairly certain, which I think is why it’s still so ingrained. Plus, the whole sire thing.” 

“Oh.” You furrowed your eyebrows. “The sire thing…?”

“He made us,” Caracalla said, “so he controls us. Like Dracula and Renfield.” 

“But you aren’t familiars, you’re vampires,” you protested. “And it’s been centuries— surely the hold would have lessened?”

Caracalla shrugged. “A promise is a promise,” he answered simply. 

“Huh.” You tapped your foot as you continued thinking. “Would you die if he died?”

That made the twins pause, and they shared a look.

“I… don’t know,” Geta said uncertainly. “Before this week, I wouldn’t have been worried about it, but if he’s not really dead…”

“It doesn’t always happen that way in movies, right?” Caracalla offered. “Like, in Interview with the Vampire, Louis and Claudia didn’t die after they killed Lestat.”

“Yeah, but Lestat didn’t actually die,” you said, wincing. “Remember? He comes back at the end.” 

“Way to spoil it for Geta,” he mused.

You rolled your eyes. “In Dracula, Mina’s freed after they kill Dracula, but she doesn’t die,” you offered in return. “Maybe it’ll be like that?”

“She never fully vamped out though…”

“Surely your sire dying doesn’t kill you,” Geta wagered, “otherwise there would be no vampires at all.” 

“Maybe because the oldest vampire ever is still out there,” you mused.

“I highly doubt that,” Geta sighed.

“Why?” you asked. “You’re here, and it’s been far over a thousand years.”

“The oldest vampire ever would have to be as old as the human race,” scoffed Geta. “Maybe older!” 

“Yeah, just like you, Geta,” Caracalla teased.

“We’re the same age,” Geta bit back.

“Maybe vampires never die at all,” you offered. “They just… bide their time until they can come back.”

“You do realize burning is one of the methods people use to dispatch vampires, right?” Geta asked flatly. “I imagine that’s fairly hard to come back from.”

“Yeah, but a normal fire won’t turn you to ash, so it’s feasible. It’s not like the average vampire hunter has access to a crematorium,” you pointed out. “Maybe it’s like… if even one cell is alive, you can regenerate, as long as you get blood.”

“This is too macabre,” Geta said with a shudder. “Can we move on please?”

“Usually you love a little thought experiment,” Caracalla remarked, back to playing on his phone.

“Not when it’s about our potential deaths,” Geta replied with a disgusted sneer.

“We’re already dead,” Caracalla said pleasantly. 

“ Caracalla .”

“We can move on,” you interjected. “I’m sorry if I asked too many questions.”

“You can never ask too many questions,” Geta said, softening. 

“Mm, I think you’re lying,” you teased, which made him smile. 

Geta gestured for you to join him on the couch. “Come here.”

“I’m still eating,” you said with a laugh. 

“Okay?” Geta replied with a puzzled smile. “And that makes you unable to sit with us?”

“Maybe I’m teaching you a lesson in patience.”

Geta scoffed. “I’ve exhibited extraordinary patience this morning.” 

“And what a good boy you are,” you mused dryly. 

Geta’s jaw clenched, an expression falling over his face that you couldn’t quite parse out. Beside him, Caracalla cackled. 

“What’s funny?” you asked. 

“Geta’s got a praise kink,” Caracalla sing-songed. 

“Shut up , Caracalla,” Geta hissed. 

“Oh really?” you purred. “Well, I’ll be taking advantage of that as soon as possible.” 

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” he said flatly, picking his book back up so he could page through it again. 

You scoffed, but didn’t refute his challenge. instead shoving another forkful of food in your mouth.

The twins let you finish eating before they started pestering you again.

“(Y/N), come sit,” Caracalla whined, patting the couch.

You rolled your eyes, but nonetheless got up and sat between them. Caracalla was on you in an instant, coaxing you into a kiss that had you flushing from head to toe. 

Geta, unwilling to let his brother take all of your attention, tugged you closer to him and kissed you as soon as you turned your head his way. You could feel his need bleeding into the kiss, and you wondered if your praises really had affected him. When he ducked his head to kiss your neck, you whimpered. “Geta…”

“Missed you,” he mumbled. 

“Baby, you’ve been up all day, why don’t you—?”

Geta nipped your throat, effectively silencing you as a shiver ran through you. 

Caracalla sidled up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He kissed your shoulder, one of his hands slipping under your shirt. 

“Wh-What’s your excuse?” you asked Caracalla. 

“No excuse,” he mused. “Just horny.”

“Terrific,” you mumbled. Another shiver ran through you as Geta licked a long strip along the column of your throat. “God…” You swallowed hard. “I’m guessing it’s your turn to hold me in place, Cara?”

“Fair is fair,” he agreed with a giggle. “I’m not as patient as he is, though.” 

“You’re not patient at all,” Geta growled. 

“I fully intend to get some action, is the point I’m making,” Caracalla purred against your ear. 

Your breath hitched and you nodded. “I’m sure we can make that happen,” you said with a light laugh. Geta bit your neck again, and this time you could feel his fangs lightly prick your skin, just enough to bring two drops of blood to the surface. Again, his tongue slid against your skin, drawing a whine from your chest. 

Tucked against Caracalla’s chest with his hand slipping into your shorts, you were reminded of your first night with the twins. You remembered a suggestion Caracalla had made that night, and a bolt of heat ran through you as you imagined taking both of them at the same time. “U-Um, can I make a request?”

Caracalla let out a delighted laugh, likely reading your mind. “That’s certainly one way to do it,” he mused. 

Geta lifted his head, licking his lips as he sat back. “What is your request?”

Heat flooded your body, in part due to the embarrassment of having to say it out loud. “Can’t you just—?”

“No, no,” Geta interrupted, smiling. “Ask for it.” 

You whined softly. “Geta…”

“You want it, don’t you?” he teased. When you nodded, he continued, “Then, you should be able to ask for it. Come on, be a good girl and tell me what you want.” 

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath. You shut your eyes and took a deep breath. Or… tried to, anyway. Caracalla chose that moment to finally breach your panties and press his fingertips against your clit, which completely interrupted your attempt at steeling yourself. Your hips jolted forward. 

“Go on,” Caracalla goaded, giggling. “Tell him.” 

“I-I want—” You inhaled sharply as Caracalla started to rub your clit. “Fuck, Caracalla, please !”

“No, that’s not it,” Caracalla tutted. “Try again.” 

“I want— ah— I want you both to take me at the same time,” you managed. “L-Like Cara suggested that one time.”

“Is that so?” Geta hummed. “Paint me a picture.”

“I did what you wanted,” you whined. 

“Not well enough, it seems,” he said dryly. Geta’s eyes darted to his brother. “I don’t think she’s serious about this, do you, Caracalla?”

“Clearly not,” Caracalla agreed with a disappointed sigh. He extracted his hand from your shorts. 

You caught his wrist. “Wait, wait, wait—”

“I’ll put it back if you tell us,” Caracalla purred. “But not until you spit it out.” 

Geta being mean, you expected, but Caracalla? Equally hot and frustrating. “Can I just show you?” you huffed. 

Geta seemed to consider this for a moment, his head tilted a little to the left. “Be my guest— just make sure you tell us what you want while you show us.” 

You exhaled slowly and nodded, scrambling up into a sitting position. “Cara, stand up,” you prompted. Once he was up, you shifted onto your hands and knees, dragging Caracalla closer by the waistband of his boxers. You kissed his tummy and looked up at him when he carded his hand through your hair. “I want your cock in my mouth,” you told him. 

Caracalla grinned. “Yeah?” he purred. He cupped your chin and tilted your head back a little more. “What else do you want?”

You pulled away enough to reach for Geta, urging him to get behind you. “Geta, will you fuck me from behind?” you asked sweetly. “Please?”

Geta exhaled slowly through his nose and knelt behind you, his hands curling around your hips. He urged you to press back against him and rolled his hips languidly. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he cooed. 

“Torture, actually,” you replied dryly. You turned your attention back to Caracalla, burying your face in the hair that coated his stomach. In a burst of cute aggression, you bit his stomach. 

Unperturbed, Caracalla snickered and petted your hair again. “Bet you wish you had fangs too, huh, sweetheart?”

Pulling back, you were displeased to see your bitemark was fading quickly, the indentions of your teeth already almost gone. “Right now I do,” you mumbled. 

“I could make it happen,” he mused. 

Geta scoffed. “That’s probably the last thing we need right now,” he said. 

“Yeah,” Caracalla agreed, stroking your cheek. “Besides, I like how warm and soft you are.” He squeezed your cheeks. “My little human,” he cooed. 

A small part of you was tempted to snap at his hand, but you ignored the urge, instead straightening so you could pull him into a kiss. Geta’s hand coasted up your back, pushing your shirt up so you could feel his cool touch against your spine. You shivered and moaned softly into Caracalla’s mouth. 

Caracalla urged you to take your shirt off. As soon as it was gone, he squeezed your breasts, a happy sigh leaving him. “You’ve got really great tits,” he said appreciatively. “Have I told you that?”

“I’m sure you must have,” you mused, “but I don’t mind hearing it again.”

Your attention was drawn to Geta as he dragged down your shorts and panties. He cupped your sex, his skilled fingers finding your clit with ease. “O-Oh, fuck,” you stuttered, rocking your hips back a bit to encourage him to touch you more. 

Caracalla’s hand threaded in your hair as you returned to your hands and knees. “Ready?”

“Uh-huh,” you breathed with an eager nod, reaching out to pull his boxers down. 

He kept one hand in your hair and gripped his cock with the other, guiding the tip into your mouth. You looked up at him and suppressed a shiver at the sight of him looking down at you. You knew you made the twins hungry, but you felt a stab of hunger all your own, your desire for him mixing confusingly with a craving you weren’t quite sure how to place. Maybe you were being a little conditioned to associate drinking blood with sex, since they seemed to be constantly intertwined when it came to the twins. 

Geta slid two fingers into you, making you moan around Caracalla’s cock. 

“Fuck,” Caracalla moaned, “keep doing whatever you’re doing to her, that felt awesome.” 

Geta scoffed, but he eased his fingers and out of you, fucking you slowly with his hand. Caracalla used his hand in your hair to help you start bobbing, and soon you were rocking back on Geta’s hand with each bob of your head. 

It was even better than you imagined; if only Geta would actually fuck you…

“Be patient,” Geta tutted. 

You whined. You were way past patience. You needed his cock in you now . 

“Needy little thing,” Geta mused. “Fine.” He took his hand back and then you could hear the rustle of his clothes being taken off. “I’m not feeling very patient either,” he admitted. 

A thrill ran through your body as the head of his cock pressed against your entrance. You pulled off of Caracalla, panting as you looked back at Geta so you could watch him push into you. A whine left your throat as he filled you, your walls fluttering around the welcome intrusion. 

“So tight,” Geta hissed softly. “You should have let me—”

“S’fine,” you interrupted, rocking your hips back. “God, you feel so fucking good, Geta.” 

He let out a little growl and began to thrust into you with slow, languid rolls of his hips. 

Caracalla guided you back to his cock, and you eagerly took him back in your mouth. You lifted one hand from the couch so you could grab Caracalla’s thigh, your nails digging lightly into the thick muscle. 

You settled into a rhythm and tried to stay afloat. There was something so intoxicating about being used, especially when your position made it so there wasn’t much you could do besides take it. Each twitch of Geta’s hips pushed you forward, setting the pace so Caracalla didn’t even have to move to fuck your mouth. 

Caracalla tugged lightly on your hair, and you blinked your teary eyes up at him, letting out an inquisitive little noise. “Just wanted to see you,” he purred. “You look so pretty like this. You like having my dick in your mouth, sweetheart?” You hummed a confirmation, but he pulled out, clearly wanting you to actually answer. 

“Love it,” you hiccupped. You licked along the length of his shaft and stuck your tongue out invitingly to coax him to slide back into your mouth. Caracalla puffed out a laugh and gave in. You moaned around him, your eyes falling shut so you could focus on not gagging. 

“Y’know, usually you make it so easy to forget you’re such a slut, but then I get to hear you think about how much you love being used by us,” Caracalla mused, “and it all comes back to me.” 

You whined, your pussy spasming around Geta’s cock. You almost gagged and you pulled back, panting harshly as you used your tongue to make up for the loss of your mouth. 

“I don’t know how you could possibly forget,” Geta grunted. “Just look at her.” 

A shiver ran through you, and you were getting very close to the edge. It felt like heat was steadily pumping through your veins, your core burning with hot, liquid fire. You were sure you were soaking Geta; the slick sound of him fucking you was suddenly loud to your ears. 

Geta curled over you a little so he could slide his hand down your front to your clit. He started rubbing little circles against the sensitive bud, and you almost passed out as pleasure shot through your body. You jolted back, unintentionally causing him to slam into you, and then you were cumming around him. “Oh my God, oh my God,” you whined. Each circle of his fingers caused another wave of heat to roll through you, and you were shaking as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. 

“That’s it,” Caracalla cooed, lightly scritching the base of your skull. “I almost wish you could see her, Geta— all teary-eyed and pathetic. It’s pretty cute.”

“Cara,” you whined. 

“Oh, what, sweetheart?” he purred with a playful pout. “Can’t take a little teasing?”

“Mean,” you huffed softly. 

Caracalla tipped his head back and laughed. “That’s not mean. You’re not ready to see how mean I can get,” he said with a delighted grin on his face. 

“Can you please just stop talking and put it back in my mouth?” you pleaded. 

Caracalla puffed out another laugh and nodded, guiding his cock back to your mouth. “Bossy.”

You moaned as the head slipped between your lips, and you shut your eyes again, trying so hard to focus. It was difficult, to say the least. Your body felt almost feverish, each roll of Geta’s hips adding to the growing heat inside that threatened to overwhelm you. He was relentless, nearly to the point of overstimulation, and the tears in your eyes finally fell, making tracks down your hollowed cheeks. 

“Aw, Geta, she’s crying,” Caracalla cooed. 

You could feel Geta start to slow his thrusts, but you rocked back against him, begging him in your head not to stop. 

“Christ,” Geta breathed, his hand tightening on your hip. The hand between your legs paused, though he didn’t take it away. Each movement of your hips helped you grind your clit against his fingertips, and you wondered if you could cum again, just from that bit of extra pressure. 

Caracalla tugged on your hair. “M’close,” he warned. “Want me to cum in your mouth?”

You did your best to puff out an agreement, fixing your eyes on his face. Caracalla smiled, and your pussy spasmed as a wave of heat ran through you. He gripped your hair a little tighter and gently thrust into your mouth a few times before he stilled, moaning as he came in your mouth. You shut your eyes tight and swallowed what he gave you. “Good girl,” he purred, petting your hair.

You whined loudly and pulled off, giving him one last parting lick before Geta was suddenly hauling you up against his chest. You gasped as he seemed to double his efforts, pounding into you from behind. “My turn,” he growled in your ear. 

You braced yourself with one hand on the back of the couch and let out another pitiful whine as Geta pushed in as deep as he could. You felt so full . His fingers brushed against your clit again, and you were done for. Warmth flooded your body for the second time as you came, your body twitching in Geta’s hold. 

“There it is,” he purred. “Such a good girl.” 

“Fucking hell,” you panted. You were gripping the couch so tightly, you were close to tearing the upholstery. “Geta, I can’t—“

“You can.” He slowed to languid rolls of his hips that were just as maddening as when he was pounding into you. “Just a little longer, sweetheart,” he cooed. “Here—“ Geta carefully pushed you down so your cheek pressed against the couch cushions. “Stay just like that.”

You mewled and clawed at the cushion, the new angle driving you up the wall. Liquid heat rushed through your veins, leaving you shivering and whimpering. You couldn’t help but rock back into each of his thrusts.

Geta squeezed your hips, a soft moan leaving him. “I’m so close,” he breathed.

Your pussy spasmed around him. “Oh, please , Geta,” you begged. “Will you cum in me?” 

“Fuck,” he gasped softly, “are you sure?”

“Want you to,” you hiccupped. “Need it.” 

Geta cursed under his breath and rutted into you, pushing in so deep, you felt his cock press against your cervix. His breath hitched as you clenched around him again. “Again,” Geta demanded breathily. You did it again, and he moaned, his fingertips digging harshly into your hips as he came inside you. 

You both were still for a long moment, the sound of your panting loud to your ears. As you gradually became more aware of your surroundings, you realized Caracalla was nowhere to be seen. “Where—?”

“Kitchen,” Geta answered breathily. He carefully pulled out of you and helped you ease onto your side. Geta fixed his clothes before he leaned over you and kissed your forehead. “I love you.”

A rush of affection made you light-headed. “I love you, too,” you breathed.

“You okay?”

“‘M great,” you assured him. You shakily sat up and got to your feet so you could put your clothes back on. Geta stayed beside you, steadying you whenever you wobbled. You could tell he was anxious just from the way he hovered around you. That, and the size of his eyes. “Baby, I’m fine,” you said as you sat back down.

Geta sat beside you and pulled you against his side. You nuzzled into his neck and wrapped your arms around his waist, sighing softly. “Are you okay?” you asked. 

He nodded. “Of course,” he said.

“Are you sure?” you mused. You pulled back a little so you could look at him, and reached up to turn his face towards you. “You seem worried.”

Geta grimaced slightly. “Just… was that alright?” he asked.

“Geta, that was wonderful,” you insisted, and he let out a relieved sigh. “I loved it.”

“You did?”

You laughed. “So much,” you assured him. You shifted so you could take his head in your hands and pull him into a kiss. “You did so well, honey.” 

Geta smiled, and your heart soared. “I love you,” he said. 

You surged up and covered his face in kisses, climbing into his lap so you smooch him more effectively. Geta laughed, taking your kiss attack in stride. 

“Where are my kisses?”

Caracalla’s sudden appearance at his brother’s side made you jump. Geta huffed and let his head fall back against the couch. 

“And where were you?” you mused. 

“I got hungry,” Caracalla said with a shrug. “I heated up a blood bag.”

You wrinkled your nose at the idea. “Why didn’t you just—?”

“You were busy,” he answered with a laugh. “Besides, I really wasn’t interested in watching Geta finish.” 

While you cackled, Geta sneered in disgust. “You’ll really just say anything, won’t you?”

“Pretty much,” Caracalla confirmed. He patted his lap. “My turn.” 

You crawled into Caracalla’s lap, straddling him, and held his face in your hands as you kissed him. He sighed happily through his nose and coasted his hands up your thighs to your ass. Your breath hitched and you pulled away, smiling. “You’re a menace,” you purred. 

“That’s what you love about me,” Caracalla replied with a grin. 

“Among other things,” you confirmed before kissing him again. 

“Alright, that’s enough time,” Geta said, hauling you back into his lap. You sat sideways on his thighs, your legs stretched out onto Caracalla. 

“Oh, c’mon,” Caracalla whined. “That’s not fair!”

“Really, Geta,” you scolded lightly.

“He got your attention for so long,” Geta protested childishly. “And he got to sleep with you last night!”

You rolled your eyes and bit back a laugh. Twin immortals, yet they still acted like spoiled little boys who didn’t want to share. 

“Why does Geta get to be your favorite?” Caracalla croaked, looking miserable. “I want to be your favorite.”

“Oh, Cara,” you cooed, shifting back into his lap. 

“Here we go,” Geta sighed, exasperated. “Pulling out the waterworks. He always does this.” 

You ignored Geta in favor of kissing Caracalla’s forehead. “I don’t have a favorite, baby,” you assured him. “I love you both very much.” 

“He gets everything,” Caracalla sniffled. “First date, first kiss, first ‘I love you’. He even got to cum in you first!” 

You flushed. Of course Caracalla would make that a big deal. “Well, I—“

“What do I get?” he insisted.

“You bit me first,” you tried. “And touched me first.”

Caracalla huffed, but that seemed to soothe him a little. “It’s just not fair,” he lamented. “Nothing’s ever mine. He even shouldered his way into our relationship.”

Geta scoffed at that. “The relationship you wouldn’t even have if not for me,” he sneered. “And anyway, she was mine first.”

“Geta, not helping,” you groaned. 

“Well, you were!”

“I wasn’t anybody’s !” you snapped back. “Stop it!” You climbed off of Caracalla. “This was exactly my problem with this whole arrangement! If you can’t share, there’s no point in this.”

Geta paled. “Don’t say that,” he pleaded. 

“Why do I get punished for his behavior?” Caracalla whined, getting to his feet so he could catch your arm before you went too far. 

You softened. You hated hurting them just as much as you hated being genuinely fought over. You were torn. “Cara—“

“I’ll be good,” he promised, reeling you in. “I’ll be so good. I won’t complain ever again, just please don’t leave.” 

Screw softened, you melted at that. “Baby, I— it’s not the complaining that bothers me,” you said. “I just don’t want you to fight.” You stepped closer so you could run your hand through his hair. “You can always tell me how you’re feeling. If you feel like I’m not being fair, I wanna know.”

“It’s not you that’s being unfair,” Caracalla sniffled.

“Oh, please— “

“Geta,” you said sharply.

He quieted with a huff. 

“I know it’ll take some getting used to,” you said to both of them, more gentle in tone. “But we just need to figure out a balance.” 

Caracalla shuffled closer and hugged you, resting his head on your shoulder. You cooed softly and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Don’t leave,” he mumbled.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him softly. You stroked his hair. “Promise.”

Caracalla exhaled heavily and nodded. He sat back down and pulled you with him, urging you into his lap again. 

Geta watched you with sad eyes. You sighed and shifted, sitting across Caracalla’s lap so you could nudge Geta with your foot. “Stop looking at me like that,” you said.

“I’m sorry,” Geta replied mournfully.

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” you sniffed. 

“…I’m not apologizing to him.” 

“ Geta ,” you groaned. 

Geta took a deep breath and dragged his hands down his face. “I’m sorry, Caracalla,” he finally said. 

“For…?” you prompted.

“…For being selfish and not sharing,” Geta finished. 

“Good,” you praised, nudging him with your foot again.

Geta got that inscrutable expression again and looked away, his lips pressing into a thin line. 

You looked at Caracalla, who simply rolled his eyes. “Thanks,” he said flatly, though you could tell he did genuinely appreciate his brother’s apology. 

You cuddled up to him and rested your head on his shoulder, combing your fingers through his chest hair. “There,” you said. “Isn’t that so much better?” 

Caracalla hummed his agreement and kissed your forehead. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

“You’re welcome,” you mused. “I love you.”

Caracalla beamed. “I love you, too.” 

“I also love you,” Geta added, making you laugh.

“I know, Geta,” you assured him. “I love you, too.” 

Satisfied, you all settled into an easy silence. It would be okay, you realized. Even if it started out messy and frustrating, you would figure it out, one way or another. 

Chapter Text

A month passed without you even realizing it. You and the twins settled into an easy sort of routine. If you didn’t have work the next day, you would stay at their house; otherwise, you’d sleep in your own apartment and miss them. Other than Geta’s brief visit, the twins didn’t come over— mostly because you needed to rest, which the twins were not likely to permit if they were sleeping over. 

You could tell Caracalla was getting antsy over the fact that you had yet to have a date with just the two of you. For all of Geta’s bluster over Caracalla shouldering in on your alone time, Geta hardly ever allowed Caracalla to have you to himself. You decided to change that. 

You called him after work one night. The phone rang exactly once before Caracalla answered it. “Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted brightly. 

“Hi, Cara,” you replied, unable to stop the grin that erupted on your face. “You busy?”

“Never too busy for you.” 

You laughed. “Wanna come over?” 

“Shit, really?” You heard rustling on the other end of the line. “Fuck yeah. Be there in like… five minutes,” he said. 

“Caracalla, it takes 15 minutes to get here from your house,” you mused. 

“For humans , maybe,” Caracalla teased. “I don’t have to abide by the laws of physics.” 

“I don’t think that’s true…”

“Okay, love you, see you soon, bye,” he said quickly, giving you just enough time to say it back before he hung up. 

You snickered and changed out of your work clothes into sweats. You didn’t bother dressing up, since it was likely Caracalla was going to ask you to take your clothes off soon anyway. 

As promised, within five minutes there was an insistent knocking at your door, and you opened to see Caracalla beaming at you. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greeted. 

You smiled. “Hi, baby. You can come in,” you allowed, stepping aside. 

“Yay,” Caracalla said as he entered. He looked around, drinking in his surroundings eagerly. 

“Did you run here?” you mused, shutting the door.

“Of course.” He was suddenly in your personal space, tugging you against his chest so he could bury his face in your neck. “I’d have flown if I could.”

“Ah, so you can’t fly?” you asked with a laugh. You tried not to squirm as he dragged his lips up the column of your neck, a soft gasp leaving you when you felt his fangs graze your skin. 

“Never got the hang of it, but for you, I’d try again,” he purred. He pulled back so he could kiss you properly. You sighed through your nose and threw your arms around his neck, a pleasant buzz radiating through your body. “I missed you,” Caracalla murmured against your lips.

“You always miss me,” you mused in return, unable to stop the wide smile that spread across your face. 

“That’s true. How could I not?” He kissed you again, and then pulled away so he could wander deeper into your apartment. Caracalla ended up in your bedroom and immediately started looking through your closet.

“What are you doing?” you asked with a laugh.

“Trying to see if you’ve been holding out on me,” he teased. 

“Cara, you’ve literally seen me naked, how could I be holding out on you?”

“Well then, maybe I’m trying to see if you have anything else as sexy as the dress you wore to the party,” Caracalla decided. He pulled out a black mesh shirt from deep in your closet, a remnant of your goth phase in college. “Oooh, mesh.” 

You giggled. “You really came over to rifle through my closet?” you asked dryly. 

“No, just curious.” Caracalla put the shirt back and shut your closet door before turning back to you. In the blink of an eye, he was on you, hands pushing up the back of your shirt as he grazed his lips over your neck. ”I came because you called,” he clarified.

You melted a little at that, taken in by the romance of it all. “I love you,” you murmured.

You could feel his smile against your skin. “I love you, too,” he said. “Can I bite you?”

You puffed out a laugh. Now that was significantly more in character for him. “Sure, baby,” you answered. “But only if you give me a treat afterwards.” 

“I’ll give you a treat,” he purred. “I’ll give you as many treats as you want, sweetheart.”

The innuendo was not lost on you. “Then, by all means, go for it.”

Caracalla let his fangs brush against you in warning before he bit you, the pain making you inhale sharply. He held you close, his hand rubbing up and down your back as he drank from you. You felt that familiar thrumming in your body with each pull, a delicious ache you were sure you would never get tired of. 

Caracalla swallowed a final time and pulled off. Before he could bite his wrist, you stopped him. “Can you do your neck again?” you requested breathily. 

Caracalla grinned. “You little freak,” he purred, “of course I can.” With a quick flick of his hand, he cut into his neck. As soon as you saw blood trickle out, you surged forward and latched onto the cut. Caracalla moaned as you drank from him, his hands curling in the fabric of your shirt. “H-Have I told you how fucking hot you are?” he breathed.

You puffed out a laugh and pulled off, dragging your tongue over the wound before it was completely closed. “Thank you, baby.”

“You want your treat?” he purred, his hands sliding down to your ass. 

“Uh-huh,” you replied breathily, sliding your hands to his shoulders. 

Caracalla lifted you easily. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he kissed you. He carried you to the bed and lowered you to the mattress, laying on top of you. His hips canted forward, letting you feel him hard against you. “Do you remember that first night we talked on the phone?” he asked, parting just far enough to look at you.

You nodded. “Of course,” you mused. “You got me in trouble.”

Caracalla rolled his eyes, a playful smile on his face. “You wanted it,” he said.

“So badly,” you agreed. You slid your hand up so you could run your fingers through his hair. “Why do you ask?”

“That night, you said you’d sit on my face,” purred Caracalla, “but you still haven’t.” 

You flushed, your breath leaving you in a rush. “You want me to sit on your face?” 

“You told me you’d drown me,” he teased. “Where’s that energy?” 

“You’re dead, Cara,” you mused in return, “I couldn’t drown you if I tried.”

“I want you to try.” He bent his head to kiss your neck, his hand sliding up your thigh. “Will you?”

You smiled. “Who am I to deny an emperor?” you cooed.

Caracalla’s hand flexed around your thigh, his hips bucking against you. Oh, he liked that. You threaded your hand in his hair and tugged lightly so he had to lift his head. “Yeah, Cara?” 

He smiled, almost looking embarrassed. “I like when you say it,” he explained with a little shrug of his shoulders.

“And if I said I’m at your mercy, Emperor Caracalla—?”

Caracalla groaned, his hips jolting forward again. “Yeah, I’m definitely into that,” he breathed. 

“Well, if my emperor ever wants to indulge in a little roleplay, just let me—“ You were cut off as he kissed you hard, and you sighed happily through your nose, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Please sit on my face,” he murmured against your lips. 

“As my emperor commands,” you teased. You pushed him off you so you could take off your clothes, and Caracalla eagerly got into position, practically vibrating when you finally straddled his head. 

“Don’t be afraid to really sit,” he said. “You can’t hurt me. You can’t suffocate me, either, so just use me however feels best.” 

You shivered. Having a vampire boyfriend was fucking awesome. “Whatever you say, Cara,” you croaked. 

Caracalla curled his hands around your upper thighs, right beside your hips, and pulled you down until he could slide his tongue between your folds. You gasped, having to steady yourself with a hand against the wall. You gradually settled more of your weight on Caracalla’s face. His hands flexed around your thighs and he pulled you down harder; he really did want you to sit on his face. You gave him what he wanted and ground against him. Caracalla moaned. You got the message loud and clear. 

You rocked your hips, each movement sending you higher and higher as Caracalla lapped at your cunt. His eyes were closed in ecstasy, and not for the first time, you marveled at how pretty he looked with his head between your legs. 

You squeaked as he slid his tongue inside you, the sudden pressure making your pussy spasm. Caracalla opened his eyes. His pupils were blown wide and you could practically taste the need bleeding from him. 

“M-Maybe I could drown you some other night,” you suggested, but before you could move, Caracalla tightened his hold on your thighs. “Oh, fuck ,” you gasped, the sensation of his nails digging into your skin making you shiver. You rolled your hips. Your desperation grew, and your grinding turned into short, staccato ruts against his mouth as you chased your impending climax. Caracalla, to his credit, took it all eagerly, encouraging you to use him as you pleased. 

The knot in your tummy grew unbearably tight until it finally snapped and you came on Caracalla’s waiting tongue. You cried out, and Caracalla moaned. When your body stopped shaking, you sat back, settling your weight on his chest. Caracalla let out a little whine. “Come back,” he pleaded, lips shiny with your release. 

“J-Just taking a breather,” you assured him. You bent over so you could run your hand through his hair. “Don’t you want to—?”

“Later,” he interrupted with a little shake of his head. “M’not done with you yet.” 

You cracked a smile. “Oh yeah?” you mused. “And when will you be done with me?”

Caracalla shrugged, the movement making you sway slightly. “Maybe never.”

You scoffed out a laugh and shook your head. “I think I can maybe do one more before I have to tap out,” you informed him.

“One more?” he whined. “That’s nothing! That’s fuckin’ rookie numbers, sweetheart.” 

You laughed again. “Well, excuse me for having a fragile human body susceptible to muscle cramps,” you mused. “I’m sure you’ve forgotten all about those, but I—“

Caracalla’s hands flexed impatiently around your thighs. “You’re ready to go again,” he informed you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” 

“Your heart rate has slowed and your clit’s less swollen,” he informed you.

You flushed. “How do you—?”

“Baby, please ,” Caracalla whined. “I’m a vampire; is that not answer enough? Now, c’mon.” He tugged you back towards his face, and you went with a laugh. 

“So impatient,” you tutted. “And you don’t even get anything out of this.”

“Never say that again,” he scoffed. “I love it, and you know that.” 

You smiled. “I do,” you confirmed. “You make it abundantly clear any time you have the chance.”

“And yet, you’re still not sitting on my face again,” Caracalla sighed. “Do you hate me?” 

“You’re such a brat,” you muttered, though you did shift so you could position yourself above his mouth again.

“Yeah, you should make me shut up,” he breathed eagerly. You settled on his face again, and Caracalla moaned , his tongue sliding against your clit reverently. 

A shiver ran through you and you whimpered. “I like how much you want it,” you admitted. “Makes me feel sexy.”

Caracalla squeezed your thighs and moaned again, a breathy sound that went straight to your core. 

You fell into an easy rhythm, rolling your hips as Caracalla worked his tongue against your cunt. Pleasure simmered in your body, dim but ever-present, and you kept your movements lazy, not really in the mood to chase another release. You were content to let Caracalla do as he pleased, just as he seemed content to do the same for you. You both were much more concerned with the experience rather than an end goal. 

Despite this, you could feel the smoldering embers of another orgasm building into a fire. Caracalla looked up at you with triumph evident in his eyes, and you fought the urge to scoff. He was far too smug for his own good, but it wasn’t like he didn’t have the evidence to back it up. 

Your thighs shook as you felt that delicious tension building in your stomach again. Moans left you with every breath you took, spurring Caracalla on until he was holding onto you so tight that his nails pricked your skin. The pinpoints of pain only elevated your pleasure. “Caracalla,” you whined.

Caracalla urged you to grind against him, and you gave in easily. When he pushed his tongue into you, you were done for. You threaded your hand in his hair and held on for dear life as you rode out your second orgasm. When it finally subsided, you climbed off of him; you were surprised and thankful he actually let you. 

As soon as you rolled onto your back, Caracalla was on top of you, slotting himself between your legs and kissing your neck.

“Oh,” you gasped softly, draping your arms around his neck.

“You’re so good to me,” he purred. Caracalla lifted his head so you could see his smile. “Are you gonna let me fuck you?” 

“Mhm,” you sighed dreamily. “Whatever you want, Caracalla.” You pulled him down a little more so you could nip his neck. “You should give me another drink first, just so I can recover faster.” 

Caracalla snickered. “Before you know it, you’re gonna turn into a full-fledged bloodsucker,” he mused. “Wrist this time.”

“Whatever,” you breathed eagerly. 

Caracalla sat up, and you sat up with him, watching as he tore open his wrist with his teeth. You latched onto the wound and moaned as his blood hit your tongue. You could taste his arousal, could taste how much he wanted you, and it immediately rekindled the flame of desire inside of you. 

You drank from him until blood no longer flowed into your mouth, and then you sucked for a little bit after that. When you finally pulled off, you were pleased to see the briefest hint of a hickey. It made you feel accomplished.

“You’re so cute,” Caracalla cooed. “I’m sorry you can’t leave marks like you want to.”

You laughed. “It’s fine,” you assured. “I’ll just have to think of other ways to claim you.” You laid back, and Caracalla crawled back over you, kissing you softly.

“I’m all yours, sweetheart,” he purred. “You know that, don’t you?”

“I know, Cara,” you confirmed. You kissed him again and spread your legs open a little wider, sliding your hands to his waist so you could pull him flush against you. “Show me that you’re mine,” you murmured against his lips. 

Caracalla let out a pretty little whimper and nodded, hastily pushing down his pants and underwear. He guided his cock to your entrance. “Ready?” he breathed.

“Uh-huh.” You lifted your head so you could watch him slide in. The dull ache of him stretching you open had you whining and clenching around him. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” he cursed softly. “I can feel your heartbeat.”

You crinkled your nose and let out a little laugh. “Yeah?” you mused.

“Sorry, is that not sexy?” he asked with a laugh of his own. 

“Mm, not really,” you replied apologetically. 

“What would be sexy?” he wondered, starting to slowly pump his hips. “You want me to tell you how wet you are? How I know you want me because I can slide into you so fucking easy?” 

A wave of heat rolled through you. “M-Much better,” you breathed. 

Caracalla smiled. “Yeah? You wanna hear that as soon as I started moving, I could feel your pussy dripping for me?” He curled over you, thrusting faster as he murmured in your ear, “Is that what you want?” 

“Fuck, Caracalla,” you whined, clinging to his shoulders. “You’re so—“ You cut yourself off with another whine and let your head drop back against the pillows. 

“S’it good, babe?” Caracalla mused. 

“So good,” you answered with a quick nod. “So fucking good.” 

“That’s right,” he purred. “You’re being such a good girl for me, letting me do whatever I want. You like surrendering to your emperor, don’t you?” 

A shiver ran up your spine as a hot burst of heat rolled through you. ”God,” you breathed, arching your back, “yes, I love it.” 

As soon as your head tilted back, Caracalla sank his fangs into your neck. He rutted into you, threatening to overwhelm you with each harsh thrust of his hips, and all you could do was cling to him. 

“Oh, Emperor Caracalla,” you whined.

Caracalla retracted his fangs and slid his tongue over the holes in your neck. His breath came out in pants and he shifted his weight onto his hands so he could watch your face while he fucked you. Caracalla’s lips were stained with your blood, and the sight made you clench around him. “Say it again,” he begged.

“Emperor Caracalla,” you repeated in a gasp as his hips jolted forward. Your body rocked with each movement, and you felt that familiar warmth course through you. You slid your hand down your body and inhaled sharply as you pressed your fingertips to your swollen clit. 

Caracalla smiled. “So greedy,” he purred. 

“It’s your fault,” you teased in return. Your smile fell and you bit your lower lip, your eyes nearly rolling back as he adjusted your hips so he could push even deeper inside you. 

“I’m a bad influence,” Caracalla agreed with an indulgent smile. He kissed you. “Are you going to let your emperor cum inside you?” he murmured against your lips. 

“Fuck, please , Cara,” you panted. 

“Say it,” Caracalla goaded.

You moaned. “Emperor Caracalla, I want you to fill me up and make me yours,” you pleaded. 

His breath hitched and he nodded quickly. “As you wish, my love,” Caracalla purred. He kissed you again, his hips stuttering as he pushed in as far as he could. You clenched around him, and he was done for. Caracalla moaned prettily against your lips as he came inside you. 

You draped your arms around his neck and sighed happily through your nose. “I love you,” you murmured. 

“I love you, too,” he replied with a sweet smile.

Your breath hitched as he picked up where you left off and started to rub your clit. “C-Cara—“

“Need a third one,” he grunted. “Wanna feel it.”

How could you refuse him? You nodded quickly and threaded your hand in his hair so you could pull him into a kiss. Caracalla kissed down to your neck, and when he slid his tongue over the still-fresh bitemark there, it was so easy to tumble over the edge. He knew exactly how to play you to make you sing, and your body was all too eager to give him what he wanted. Your pussy spasmed around his softening cock as your orgasm rolled through you and stole your breath. 

“Good girl,” Caracalla purred softly. He nuzzled into your neck as he rested on top of you. “I love you so much.” Caracalla kissed your shoulder. “You know that?”

Your heart felt fit to burst. “Yeah,” you croaked. “I know. Did you know that I love you so much?”

You felt him smile against your skin. “Shit, really?” he mused. “That’s so cool.” 

“Agreed.” You carded your hand through your hair and kissed him. Caracalla kissed you slow and sweet, dragging it out until you were left breathless. You whimpered when he finally pulled out of you. Exhaustion seeped into your bones as you rolled off the bed to go clean up. You stumbled on your way to the bathroom, and Caracalla was there immediately to catch you. 

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asked.

“M’so good,” you assured him with a thumbs up. “Just a little shaky.” 

“Do you need—?”

“I’m fine, Cara,” you interrupted, kissing him softly. “Thank you.” You continued to the bathroom and shut the door. 

You cleaned up and assessed the damage— a few marks and a tremor that wouldn’t seem to leave, but otherwise you were fine. 

When you returned to the bedroom, Caracalla was waiting nervously on the edge of the bed, his clothes fixed. You sucked your teeth and went to him, kissing him lovingly as you stood between his legs. “What’s wrong, baby?” you cooed.

“Nothing, nothing, I just…” Caracalla bit his lip and trailed off, his eyes flitting over your face. ”I’m always worried I go too hard. Geta would kill me if I actually hurt you.” 

“I’d tap out if I thought it was too much,” you assured him. 

“You would? Promise?”

You nodded and kissed his forehead. “Of course, Cara.” You took his face in your hands and squeezed gently, smiling down at him. “You can always read my mind, you know.”

“I know,” he sighed, “but if I’m doing too well, your head gets really empty and I can’t tell what you’re feeling besides good .”

You rolled your eyes. “What a terrible problem to have,” you said flatly.

Caracalla giggled. “I’m just being honest.” His smile fell slightly. “Sometimes,” he said softly, “I think you really would let me do whatever I wanted.”

You felt a twinge of discomfort in your stomach. “Is that… bad?”

Caracalla sighed and buried his face in your chest. “You always forget we’re monsters,” he mumbled.

“You aren’t—“

“We are ,” he insisted, raising his head. You could see tears prick his eyes. “I’ve killed people, (Y/N). A lot of people!”

“Well… I mean, you have lived for almost two thousand years…”

Caracalla scoffed and stood, running his hand through his hair as he started pacing. “See, you’re always so nice to us, and you really shouldn’t be!” 

“Caracalla—“

“You shouldn’t let me do whatever I want,” he continued, “because what I want is to devour you.”

For the first time in a long time, you felt a flicker of fear. “You…“ You swallowed hard. “I trust your self-control,” you said after a moment of hesitation. 

“I don’t think you should,” he said weakly. He looked at you miserably. “It’s my nature to hurt you, (Y/N); even before the whole vampire thing, I was… I’ve never been a good person.” 

Being naked was adding a level of vulnerability to the conversation that was making you uncomfortable. You remained silent as you scooped up your clothes from the floor. Caracalla watched you dress, the usual heat in his stare replaced with sorrow. You hated seeing him so sad; you didn’t think Caracalla got sad. 

You went to him, and Caracalla allowed you to pull him into a hug. “I’ve always been selfish,” he hiccupped. “Even now, I can’t make myself leave you, despite the fact I know I’m a danger to you.”

“You aren’t a danger to me, Cara,” you cooed softly. 

“I am,” he lamented. “I just—“ A sob burst from his chest and he buried his face in your shoulder. “I want . I want so much. Sex, blood— I never really get enough. There’s this craving inside me that never goes away, and I don’t know what to do.” Caracalla started crying in earnest, clinging to you tightly. “I’m worried I’ll want you so much that I’ll kill you.” 

You rubbed his back and took a deep breath, holding back tears of your own. “I trust you,” you assured him softly.

“ Don’t ,” he sobbed. 

“I do,” you repeated. “I do, because I love you, and I know you love me. Your cravings don’t determine who you are, your actions do.” 

“I know, that’s why I’m a shitty person,” he whined.

“Cara,” you said with a little laugh, “what the fuck are you talking about?”

He pulled away to look at you, his eyebrows furrowed together as tears streamed down his cheeks. “What do you mean?”

“Tell me what you do that makes you a shitty person.”

“I drink your blood, I hold you down and do unspeakable things to you—“

You couldn’t help it— you started laughing. 

“It’s not funny!” Caracalla whined.

“So, let me get this straight,” you said when you finally caught your breath, “you’re a shitty person because you… do the things I ask you to?”

Caracalla hesitated. “I shouldn’t want to do those things,” he muttered. 

“Oh, Christ , Caracalla, I thought you were emperor before the rise of Christianity,” you tutted. “What’s with this internalized shame thing?” 

He blinked, his tears no longer falling. “I… I don’t know,” he admitted softly.

You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him softly. “I don’t think a monster would think so hard about this,” you told him gently. “You always ask, you always check in— safe, sane, and consensual, right?”

Caracalla nodded. “Yeah, but—“

“I want it,” you interrupted. “I want you .”

His face crumpled as tears filled his eyes once more. “Why?” he whined.

“Because I love you, you freak,” you teased gently. 

“Oh.” Caracalla managed a smile. “Good reason,” he croaked. 

You kissed him again before pulling him into another tight hug. “Are you really that worried about it?” you asked.

“Yeah, kinda,” he replied weakly. 

You sighed and smiled. “It’ll be okay, baby,” you soothed. 

“I just get so… anxious when Geta’s not with us,” Caracalla admitted. “Like I won’t be able to stop myself.” 

“But you always do,” you pointed out.

Caracalla took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah… I guess so.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. You hugged him and nuzzled into his neck, inhaling deeply. “You’re good as you are, Cara; no Geta required.”

Caracalla exhaled shakily and clung to you, his hands balling up the back of your shirt. “No one’s ever told me that before,” he mumbled. 

Your heart broke for him. For Caracalla to be constantly compared to his twin brother for hundreds of years, to the point where he was worried he would be a danger to you without him… and you knew Geta fed into it. You doubted Geta had ever even implied Caracalla could make it on his own. 

Their strange codependency was an issue for another time. 

“I guess that just means we should have more alone time,” you cooed, “so I can keep showing you it’s true.” 

Caracalla puffed out a laugh and nodded, holding you tighter. “Yeah,” he agreed. “We should.” 

Chapter Text

You yawned as you clocked into work the next day. Inviting Caracalla over hadn’t been a mistake, per se, but you were exhausted, physically and emotionally. You felt dead on your feet. There was a bitemark still clear on your neck, but since it was just holes from his fangs and not a full set of indentations, you doubted any of your coworkers would have noticed or cared. 

As you entered the main floor, your manager, Kelly, slid into your path. “We have a new employee,” she informed you pleasantly. “Wanna meet him?”

You suppressed another yawn and nodded. “I guess.” 

Kelly guided you over to your new coworker. You studied him as you approached. He was handsome— classically so— with an aquiline nose, curly brown hair, and bright blue eyes that leveled on you with a spark of interest. His face had a severity to it that you found intimidating, but his smile was nice enough. “(Y/N), this is Lucius,” Kelly introduced. 

Lucius. Why did that name sound familiar? “Hi, Lucius,” you greeted, trying to force a little energy in your voice. You offered him your hand to shake. “Welcome to the team.”

“Nice to meet you, (Y/N),” Lucius said as he shook your hand. He had a nice, firm handshake, and his hand was pleasantly warm. 

“(Y/N), would you be willing to help Lucius with his tasks today?” Kelly asked. 

You side-eyed her. “You mean like training?”

“More or less,” she agreed. “Lucius is highly experienced, so it should be easy. Isn’t that right, Lucius?”

“I’ve been around the block once or twice,” he confirmed with a wry smile. 

You blinked up at him. He couldn’t be older than his late twenties. How much experience could he actually have? Not caring enough to ask, you shrugged. “Whatever,” you said easily. “That’s fine with me.”

“Awesome,” Kelly said, squeezing your arm appreciatively. “Thank you. I’ll let you two get to work.”

You watched your manager walk away before turning back to Lucius. He was already staring at you, and you fought the urge to startle. There was something about Lucius that unnerved you, but you couldn’t put your finger on what it was. “I’ll, um, show you the ropes I guess,” you suggested. Not waiting for an answer, you got to work.

You got halfway into your first task when you realized you should probably try to talk with him to help him feel welcome. “So, uh, where are you from?” you asked.

“That’s sort of a hard question to answer,” he admitted. “I’ve moved around a lot.”

You nodded in understanding. “Sure, I get that.”

“You too?”

“Ah, no, I’ve lived here my whole life, but my boyfriends have moved a bunch,” you answered, and winced slightly. Should you have mentioned them? What if he thought you were weird for having two boyfriends? God forbid he find out they’re twins… Ah well, too late to take it back. 

Lucius simply offered you a smile. “My boyfriend, too,” he said, clearly trying to offer you an olive branch to show he wasn’t judging you.

You sighed, thankful. “You guys been together long?” you asked.

“Too long to count,” he confirmed with a roguish smile. “You?”

“We’re a fairly recent development,” you admitted. 

“Yeah? How’d that happen?” Lucius wondered.

You sighed through your nose. “Long story,” you replied. “Maybe I’ll tell you some other time.”

“Can’t wait,” Lucius mused. “Now, could you show me how to do what you just did?” 

The rest of your shift passed quickly, and before you knew it, you and Lucius were clocking out together. He was a hard worker and a great team player, not to mention you built up a good rapport the longer you chatted with each other. He had a good sense of humor, if a bit dry. You got the feeling you were going to enjoy working with him.

You walked to the parking lot with him and realized you were parked next to each other. “You work tomorrow?” you asked.

“Yeah. You?”

“Nah, I’m off,” you answered. 

Lucius smiled. “Seeing your boyfriends tonight?” he wondered. His gaze drifted down to the marks on your neck— or maybe you imagined that? When you looked at him again, his eyes were on yours.

You snickered, though you brought your hand up to rub at the spot his eyes had trained on. “I am,” you confirmed, “and I can’t wait to tell them all about you.”

“Same here,” Lucius agreed. “Ravi’s gonna get an earful when he gets home.”

You grinned and rolled your eyes. “See you later, Lucius,” you mused. 

“See you, (Y/N).”

You got into your car and texted Geta to let him know you were on your way over. The sun was still high in the sky, so you knew Caracalla would be out when you got there. Geta, though, barely slept— much to Caracalla’s and your dismay. 

As if to prove your point, Geta texted back ‘<3’ almost immediately. You sighed and shook your head, starting your car. Maybe you could persuade him to take a nap when you got home; Lord knows you needed one.

Geta was waiting for you when you entered the house. He was clearly trying to look nonchalant, but the effect was lessened when he smiled and shot to his feet as soon as you shut the door. “Welcome home, my love,” he greeted.

You dropped your stuff by the front door and went to where he was still standing by the sofa, throwing your arms around his neck as soon as you were close enough. Geta smiled as you kissed him. 

“Tough day at work?” he mused.

You smiled back at him. “What, I can’t greet my hot boyfriend with a kiss?” you teased, pulling away.

Geta wrapped his arms around your waist to prevent you from going any further. “No, no, you most certainly can.” He pulled you close and kissed you again. “In fact,” he purred, “I prefer it that way.”

“I’m sure you do.” You played with the hair at the nape of his neck and tilted your head a little to the side as you considered him. “Did you get any sleep this morning?” you asked.

Geta shrugged. “Enough,” he answered.

You hummed doubtfully. “How much?”

“…An hour or two.”

You tutted and dropped your arms to your sides so you could take his hand and drag him towards his bedroom. “We’re taking a nap,” you told him.

“You haven’t even told me about work yet,” he sighed, even though he followed you. 

In his bedroom, you toed off your shoes and stripped out of your work clothes. Geta watched you with a hungry glint in his eye, but as soon as he made to move towards you, you barked out, “Nuh-uh.” 

Geta pouted. “But…”

“Get in bed,” you ordered. You went to his chest of drawers and fished out a t-shirt to slip on. Then, you crawled into bed with him and snuggled up to his side. Geta welcomed you, pressing a kiss to your head. “Sleep,” you grunted.

“Darling,” he tried.

“Geta,” you replied flatly.

Geta sighed heavily. “So bossy,” he lamented. 

“If you aren’t going to sleep without me, I’m forcing you to sleep with me,” you sniffed.

“Oh, I’ll certainly sleep with you,” he purred, rolling onto his side so he could tug you closer. “No force necessary.” 

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t bother to suppress your smile. “Is that so?” you mused.

“You could try to tire me out, sweetheart,” Geta suggested wryly.

“Tire out my vampire boyfriend,” you repeated. “Seems like quite the uphill battle.” You slid your hand up his chest and cupped the back of his neck to pull him into a kiss. 

Geta smiled against your lips. “Seems like you’re willing to try.”

“Mm, not right now,” you said with a little shake of your head. You draped your arm around him and buried your face in his neck, pushing him onto his back again.

“Very well,” Geta sighed. He rubbed your back affectionately. “Will you at least tell me about your day at work?”

“Hoping I’ll bore you to sleep?” you mused.

“No, I’m genuinely interested,” he protested. 

“Uh-huh.” You pressed a kiss to his shoulder and lifted your head. “Work was fine,” you said. “Got a new coworker.”

“Ah, that’s why you smell different,” Geta remarked.

You wrinkled your nose. “I smell different?” 

“It’s subtle, but yes,” he answered. 

“Hmm.” You laid your head back down on his shoulder. “Weird. Can we sleep now?”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re using me as an excuse to take a nap?” mused Geta.

“Because I am,” you answered honestly. You shifted to get comfortable and shut your eyes. You felt Geta take a deep breath and relax, his arm curling a little tighter around you. “I love you,” you murmured.

Geta kissed the top of your head. “I love you, too.”

Content, you let the exhaustion take over and fell asleep. 

You had strange dreams, full of violence and men with stark blue eyes. 

You felt a pressure on your arm that drew you from sleep, and you blinked your eyes open to see Geta staring at you, making you jump. “Sorry,” he said. 

“You okay?” you slurred, rubbing your eyes. “How long was I asleep?”

“A few hours,” Geta answered.

“Did you sleep?”

“A little.”

“Geta,” you groaned.

“That dream you were having—“

You furrowed your eyebrows. “How did you know I was dreaming?”

“I can read your mind,” he said flatly. “Remember?”

“I didn’t know that extended to dreams,” you grumbled. You sat up and stretched. “What about it?” 

“Do you remember it?”

“Uhh…” You tried to scrounge up something from your dream and came up with an image of Lucius. Your nose wrinkled. Already? Usually it took longer for your subconscious to integrate your friends into your dreams. “Not really,” you answered.

“There,” he said with a snap, “who was that?”

“Sorry?”

“That man.”

“My new coworker,” you replied tentatively. “Why? If this is a jealousy thing—“

Geta hastily waved away the thought. “No, no, nothing like that,” he huffed. “I know that face.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “You know that face?” you repeated dubiously. “You’ve lived for hundreds of years, Geta, I’m sure you know plenty of faces.”

“This one’s different— significant,” he muttered. “You said he works with you?”

“Yeah, he just started today,” you said slowly. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Geta rubbed his face thoughtfully and shook his head. He suddenly seemed very far away from you, lost in his own head. “The smell… it’s possible, I guess… what if he…?” Geta mumbled. 

“Baby, stop,” you urged, curling your hand around his bicep and squeezing. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

He shook his head again. “No, it’s likely nothing.” Geta looked at you with sudden intensity. “Can I visit you at work?”

You blinked. “Um… I guess? You know I work during the day, right?”

“Yes, I know,” he replied impatiently. “Just as you know I can go out in the sun without issue.”

“You told me it weakens you,” you protested.

Geta waved away your comment with a dismissive gesture. “Yes, well, that’s unimportant. I’ll manage. When do you work next?”

“Day after tomorrow…”

“Will your new coworker be there?”

“I dunno, I didn’t check the schedule,” you replied. “I guess I could ask my manager?” Not that you really wanted to…

“That idea makes you uncomfortable,” he observed. 

“Yeah, cause it’s weird ,” you sighed. “Look, what if I just text you when I see him? Then you can head over.”

Geta studied you for a moment before he nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Do that.” 

“Okay,” you agreed slowly. “Sure.” 

Geta sighed through his nose. “I have a reason,” he told you.

“Okay? Are you going to clue me in as to what that may be?”

“No.”

“Great,” you sighed. You slid out of bed. “I’m gonna go see what Caracalla’s up to.” 

“It’s probably nothing,” Geta repeated, following you.

“Yeah, cause he sleeps when he’s supposed to,” you teased.

“No, I mean the thing with your coworker.”

“But you still wanna visit my job,” you said.

“Yes.”

You sighed and shrugged. “Whatever, Geta. I won’t stop you.” You knocked on Caracalla’s door, glancing at Geta. He still had that intense look on his face. “ What , baby?”

“Nothing. I’m just thinking.”

“You’re always thinking.”

“Most people are always thinking,” Geta scoffed, “with the exception of my brother.” 

“Come in,” called Caracalla.

You rolled your eyes and pushed open the door to Caracalla’s room. He was still in bed, wrapped up in his blankets, but he waved at you. “Did I wake you up?” you cooed, crossing over to him.

“Nah,” he said, sitting up. Caracalla smiled and reached out for you, pulling you into a kiss when you sat down beside him. “How was work?”

“It was fine,” you said.

“She has a new coworker,” Geta informed his twin.

You rolled your eyes. “Which is big news, apparently,” you sighed.

“That must be why you smell weird,” Caracalla mused.

“That’s it, I’m taking a shower,” you huffed. 

“Noooo, don’t go, you just got here,” Caracalla whined, catching your wrist before you could get too far. 

“I don’t wanna smell—“

“You don’t, you don’t,” he insisted. “If anything, you just smell like Geta now.” Caracalla leaned forward and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you to his side so he could kiss you again. 

You sighed through your nose. “You guys are weird,” you mumbled. 

“Totally,” Caracalla agreed with a grin. “Listen, if you’re really worried about it, we could always shower together.” He kissed your shoulder. “I’ll make sure you get nice and clean.” 

You scoffed out a laugh and looked to the ceiling for strength. “Maybe later,” you mused, and you wriggled out of Caracalla’s hold.

“Maybe’s not a no,” he purred, satisfied. 

“Very astute, brother,” Geta groused. He looked down at you, his eyes softening. “Are you hungry? When’s the last time you ate?”

“I could ask you the same question,” you tutted, poking his chest. “You haven’t been hunting once since we started dating.” 

“Geta’s never been much of a hunter anyway,” Caracalla supplied as he laid back in bed. 

“I’m fine,” Geta grunted.

“You don’t eat , you don’t sleep… ” You shook your head. “I’m worried about you, baby.” 

“I’m immortal, darling, it’s fine.”

You sucked your teeth and sighed. “I really don’t think that’s how that works, but so be it.” You kissed him softly before moving around him to head to the kitchen. “You’re feeding tonight,” you called over your shoulder.

“Am I?” Geta mused, suddenly at your side.

“Jesus,” you gasped as you startled. “Don’t do that.” 

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “Can I make you something to eat?”

“Wanna make a meal for your meal?” you teased. 

“You’re not a meal ,” Geta said with a disgusted sneer. “You’re my girlfriend.”

“Are you saying I’m not a snack?” you asked with a little pout.

“Pardon?”

“It’s slang, old man,” you sighed. “You call someone a snack when you think they’re hot.”

Geta grimaced, his eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t think I like that,” he decided. 

“Noted.” You opened the fridge and perused your options, bending over slightly. Your breath hitched as you felt Geta’s hand cup your asscheek. “Yeah?” you mused, glancing back at him.

“For the record, I do think you’re hot,” he purred. “You know that, don’t you?” 

“I had a suspicion, yeah,” you teased. You straightened and closed the fridge. Placing your hands on his waist, you leaned up and kissed him. Geta’s hands slid up your arms, and he pulled you closer so he could deepen the kiss. 

“I think you should start taking an iron supplement,” he murmured.

“Ugh,” you groaned, pulling away, “so not what I wanted to hear right now.”

“I’m worried we’re drinking from you too much,” he insisted. Geta cupped your neck, his thumb brushing over Caracalla’s bite. 

You sighed through your nose. “Cara just didn’t give me a final hit last night, that’s all,” you said. 

“A hit?” Geta repeated flatly. 

“Well, what else should I call it?” you asked, pouting. 

“Implying our blood is a drug.”

“Well!” You threw your hands up. “Kinda!”

Geta furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” He got that intense look in his eyes again, and you knew he was searching through your mind. “You crave it?” he asked, alarmed. 

“It’s not a big deal, Geta,” you groaned. “So what? It’s probably just conditioning, since we always seem to have sex afterwards.” 

His expression was troubled. “We’ve never exchanged blood with someone so consistently for so long,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “It never occurred to me that there might be long-term effects; it’s not like this is something there’s scientific research on.”

“Geta. Honey. Baby. Love of my life.” You took his face in your hands. “Stop it,” you ordered gently. “You’re thinking way too hard about this.”

Geta closed his hands around your wrists and exhaled heavily. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said softly. “It’s bad enough we—“

You squeezed his face. “Stop it,” you repeated.

Geta stopped. “You think I’m overthinking this,” he said.

“Baby, I know you are.” You pulled him down so you could very gently bonk your forehead against his before letting go. “Honestly, I’m the picture of health,” you remarked, opening the fridge again and pulling out a bottle of orange juice. “Besides that, I want this. I don’t know why you and your brother insist on pretending you’re monsters holding me captive.” You smiled to yourself. “Not that I’d really mind if you were…”

Geta cracked a smile. “You’re ridiculous,” he accused fondly. 

You grinned. “Just sayin’.”

He rolled his eyes. “You want me to hold you captive?” he purred, stalking towards you until your back hit the fridge. “We can reenact those dreams you used to have about me— the ones where I wouldn’t let you leave.”

You flushed from head to toe. “I’m surprised you remember those,” you murmured. 

“How could I possibly forget?” Geta cupped your chin and urged your head back so he could kiss you. “Maybe I’ll tie you up and keep you all for myself.” 

What a heel turn. You swallowed hard and took a shaky sip of your orange juice. “Glad you’re feeling better,” you muttered. 

“You know what you do to me,” Geta said simply. 

“Do I?” you hummed. Reaching out, you set your hand on his waist and urged him to kiss you again. “I don’t know, I think I need a demonstration.”

Geta smiled— a real, genuine smile that had your heart thumping in your chest as you suppressed a squeal. He was so pretty . “A demonstration, you say?” he mused. “How should I do that?” 

“You’re asking me?” you asked with a laugh.

“It’s your demonstration, sweetheart. I want to make sure you’re satisfied.” 

“You could bite me,” you suggested in a purr. “I’d find that highly satisfying.” 

Geta scoffed out a laugh and tilted his head back. “Would you now?” 

“Definitely.” You crept your hand up his chest. “Do you even realize how much it turns me on when I feel your fangs sink into my neck?” you cooed. 

Geta inhaled sharply and looked down at you again, his eyes darkening with desire. “Describe it to me,” he ordered smoothly, his voice taking on a growling edge. 

“Can’t you feel it with your little mind-reading powers?” you mused. “I know you can certainly taste it. It’s like you flip a switch in my brain and all I can think about is how much I want you inside me.”

Geta groaned softly, and when he opened his mouth to speak, you could see his fangs had extended. Your heart pumped faster in anticipation, and you couldn’t seem to look away. “I can hear how bad you want it,” he breathed. “Your desire is consuming you.”

“I wish you’d consume me,” you muttered.

Geta laughed, his head tipping back again. You set aside your orange juice, surged forward, and kissed his neck, your hands sliding to his shoulders so you could hold him in place. Geta’s arms closed around you. “I want you to eat first,” he croaked, though you could tell his resolve was slipping.

You nipped his neck. “I want you to drink my blood, Geta,” you breathed, adding a little whine to try and get your point across. “Please?” 

A shiver ran through him and his arms tightened around you. “You’re going to faint if I do,” he murmured.

“You’ll catch me.”

Geta shut his eyes and took a deep breath, his jaw clenching.

You leaned up so you could murmur in his ear. “You want me to beg for it, Geta?” you asked. “I will. I’ll do whatever you want.” 

“God,” Geta groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “You’re impossible to resist.” 

You clutched his shoulders, pressing up against him. “Aren’t you hungry, baby?” you cooed. “Just a little taste, that’s all I’m asking. It’d be so easy. Think about how good it’ll feel to pierce my skin with your fangs.” 

His lips grazed over your neck, and then you could feel the briefest brush of his fangs. A thrill went up your spine. 

“Please,” you begged, giving it your all. “ Please , Geta!” 

He bit you. You gasped as his fangs sank into your neck, heat rolling through you as they penetrated deeper than ever before. When he started to actually drink from you, you let out a wanton moan, the pain fading with each swallow until all you could feel was the cold rush of your blood leaving and the heat of arousal curling in your stomach.

Just as you were starting to feel faint, Geta pulled off you. Blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth and you watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed heavily. Before you knew it, he was pressing his wrist against your mouth, his blood leaking onto your lips. You drank greedily and kept your eyes fixed on his face. Geta watched you, utterly transfixed, his fangs still visible between his parted, bloody lips. 

As soon as his wound had closed, you surged forward to kiss him. The taste of your blood combined with his sent a wave of arousal rolling through you. 

Geta pulled away with a gasp. “You need to—“ he tried to say.

“I need you to fuck me,” you interrupted, panting softly. 

Geta didn’t argue, just turned you around so he could grind against your ass. Your palms hit the fridge with a smack and you pressed back against him eagerly, a whimper leaving you. You were dizzy with delight— or maybe just blood loss. It was hard to tell. Either way, you were left breathless. 

You leaned back until you could feel his chest press against your back. “You should bite me again,” you breathed.

“You’re insane,” he muttered affectionately. “I’m not going to bite you again.”

“Why not?” you whined. “I know you’re not full.” 

Geta scoffed. “Your self-destructive tendencies are getting a bit worrying,” he said lightly. He passed his hand over your stomach and slipped it into your panties. “You’re already shaking; if I take any more, you’ll be on the floor.”

“It’d be worth it,” you sighed softly. Your breath hitched when you felt his fingertips brush against your swollen clit. 

“Nice try,” he murmured against the shell of your ear. He kissed your shoulder and rubbed your clit in slow, teasing circles that had your hips twitching forward. 

A little whimper left your throat. “Want more,” you panted. “Please.”

“I’ve been far too indulgent already,” Geta mused. “I want to tease you a little.” 

A hint of agony mixed with your arousal and you groaned, resting your forehead against the freezer door. “Can’t you keep indulging me?” you whined.

Geta tsked. “And spoil you?” he teased. “Unthinkable.” His hand stilled completely, his fingers still pressed against your clit, and he ground against you. The movement made you rock against his hand, and you rolled your hips to do it again. 

Your desperation rising, you humped his hand and let out an embarrassingly loud whine. 

“Then again,” Geta breathed, “you’re already so spoiled. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You nodded hastily, glancing back at him over your shoulder. “D-Definitely,” you agreed. “So you should just give me what I want.” 

Geta hummed thoughtfully, his head tilting to the side as he considered you. “I don’t know,” he sighed, “why should I?” 

You gasped as he started to rub your clit again. “B-Because I’ve been so good,” you said, trying to sound convincing. 

Geta wasn’t buying it. “Yeah? Is that what we’re calling it when you deliberately disobey me?” 

“I didn’t—!”

“Just curious,” he interrupted, pressing against your back, “which one of us was supposed to eat first?”

You swallowed hard. “That… is different.” 

“Uh-huh,” Geta replied flatly. 

“I’m just trying to— ah— make sure you’re taken care of,” you mumbled. 

“How selfless of you,” he mused. Geta slid his hand lower, brushing over your soaked entrance. “Clearly you had no ulterior motives.” 

“Oh, fuck ,” you gasped, bucking against his hand. “Geta, please!” 

“Again, I find myself wanting to give in,” he remarked easily. He sounded completely unbothered, especially when compared to your desperate panting. 

“Yes, yes, you should,” you said, nodding eagerly as you rolled your hips back in an attempt to grind against him. “You should, you should, oh God , please—“ You cut yourself off with a whimper as Geta rutted his erection harshly against your ass. 

“So needy,” he scolded playfully. Geta retracted his hands and stood up straight. “Push your panties down.”

You straightened enough to follow the order, placing your hands back against the fridge door as soon as your panties were around your ankles.

“So, you can follow directions,” Geta purred. 

You whined impatiently. “I’m capable of many things,” you huffed, “can you please fuck me now?”

“Having an attitude will not get you what you want, darling,” he tutted, pushing his pants down. You inhaled sharply as you felt him line up the head of his cock to your entrance. “Ask me again, and be sweet about it.”

“I s-said please,” you groaned. You could feel him pull away, and you let out a little yelp, pushing your hips back. “Wait, wait, I’m sorry! I’ll be good, I promise.”

Geta’s hand coasted fondly over the curve of your ass. “I’m waiting,” he said. 

You swallowed a sound of frustration. “Geta,” you whined, “I need it so bad, honey, please .” Your nails scratched uselessly against the fridge door as you curled your hands and attempted to stay still; if his intent was to tease you, trying to take what you wanted would surely not put you in his good graces. “I think I might cry if you don’t fuck me right now.” 

“A few tears are far from a deterrent,” Geta mused. “You should know that by now, sweetheart.” He rocked his hips, nudging your entrance with the head of his cock without actually sliding in. 

You couldn’t stop the frustrated groan this time. Oh, you wanted to brat so bad, you had to physically bite your lip to keep from lashing out. 

“It’s quite endearing how hard you’re trying,” he purred, sliding his hands up to your hips. “You really want it, don’t you?”

“ Yes ,” you keened. “Please, please, pleasepleaseplease—

Geta let out a low chuckle. “Alright, I’ll stop teasing you.”

When he finally pushed into you, you did start crying a little— it just felt so fucking good , you couldn’t help it. You felt so full. “You’re so big, Geta,” you gasped. 

His hands on your hips flexed. “Yeah?” he breathed. “You like the way I fill you up, sweetheart?” 

You nodded quickly. “So good,” you yelped, rocking your hips back so he pushed impossibly deeper, your palms pressed flat against the fridge to give you more leverage. 

Geta got the hint and started moving. “You know why I tease you?” he asked softly.

You whimpered and shook your head. “Because you think it’s f-funny?”

Geta chuckled softly. “No, sweetheart,” he cooed, “I tease you because you love it.” 

God, but you did love it. You loved the banter, the anticipation that came with being teased, the build up and the subsequent payoff. You hated that you loved it as much as you did, because it only encouraged him, and the longer he managed to drag it out, the surer you became that you were going to implode. The heat rolling in your stomach solidified the thought, as did the slick dripping onto your thighs. Geta hadn’t even really teased you, not like you knew he would if you gave him the chance. If Geta had his way, he would have edged you until you were well and truly crying. Caracalla liked to focus on amount of orgasms, but Geta focused on intensity, and the longer he could draw it out, the bigger the finish was. 

Thank God he was feeling merciful at the moment.

“Don’t you, (Y/N)?” Geta prompted, drawing you back into your body from the precipice of bliss.

“Uh-huh,” you managed.

His hand was suddenly in your hair, pulling you back as he bent forward, so your back met his chest somewhere in between where you both had just been. “I want you to really tell me,” he said, words hot against the shell of your ear. “Don’t be shy.” 

The hit of feel-good chemicals you got from a simple twitch of his hips was more effective than any truth serum. “ Fuck , baby, you know I love it,” you panted. “I think about it when I’m alone, and I daydream about all the ways I can piss you off so you tease me as punishment.” 

“My little brat,” he hissed affectionately. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

You whimpered and shook your head, the movement causing him to tug your hair. “Oh fuck,” you breathed, “ please pull my hair, Geta.” 

He pulled— really pulled— your hair, wrenching your head back in the best way, and then he made it even better by biting your neck; no fangs, just the dull sting of blunt teeth and enough pressure to leave a bruise. 

“Oh, my God,” you cried as your walls fluttered around him. Heat flooded your body and you were so, so close to cumming, you could practically taste it. Geta released you, both hair and neck, but only so he could slide his hand down between your legs. “Oh, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” you babbled, hips twitching as your clit throbbed under Geta’s touch. “Please, Geta, can I? Please, please, please—“

“You can cum, sweetheart,” Geta purred against the shell of your ear. “You’re such a good girl for asking. Go ahead.”

You clenched tight around him as a shudder ran through you. It only took a few more pumps of his hips to push you over the edge. You bit your lip hard, muffling a loud moan as the knot in your tummy snapped. 

“Fuck,” Geta gasped, “you feel so good.” He slid his hands to your hips and picked up his pace, chasing his pleasure now that you were taken care of. He gripped your hips tightly, pulling you into every thrust. “Always so good to me,” he murmured. “My gorgeous girl. Gonna make me cum. You want me to cum in you, baby?”

You nodded quickly. “Want it,” you hiccupped. “Want it so bad, Geta, please!” 

“I’ll give it to you,” he purred. “Anything you want, my love, I’ll give it to you.” With the way you were squeezing him, it didn’t take very long for him to reach his climax. You felt his cock twitch, and then he was filling you up, moaning as he eased in and out of you slowly.

Your legs were shaking by the time he pulled out, and you had to lean heavily against the fridge just to keep yourself upright. Geta had been right, of course, and you hated that he had been right. Your adrenaline had faded with your orgasm, and you were feeling dead on your feet. You managed to pull your panties up without keeling over, but just barely. 

Geta’s arm wrapped around your waist, and you were suddenly being hauled away from the fridge. You yelped. “You didn’t believe me,” Geta sighed. 

“I haven’t fainted yet,” you grumbled. “So.”

Geta deposited you on the kitchen counter, making sure you were steady before he went about getting you something to eat. You sat and watched him putter around. 

“It was pretty good though, right?” you asked weakly.

That got his attention. Geta sighed through his nose and slotted himself between your legs. “Yes, sweetheart, it was wonderful,” he answered. Geta cupped your cheek and gave you a soft kiss. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you should’ve eaten first.”

You hummed an acknowledgment, but neither confirmed nor denied it. You kissed him again.

Geta sighed through his nose. “I love you,” he mumbled.

“I love you, too,” you said with a smile. “So much.”

“Then why won’t you take care of yourself?” he whined.

“I do take care of myself,” you protested. “It’s just… I knew that I had enough energy to have a little fun before I ate.” 

“Sure,” Geta said flatly, “that’s why I had to sit you up on the counter.” 

You stuck your tongue out at him. “I didn’t say I had an excess of energy,” you sniffed, “I said I had enough .”

Geta rolled his eyes and pulled away so he could return to his quest of feeding you. 

“Honestly, Geta, you’re one to talk,” you continued. “You haven’t been sleeping, like, at all .”

“He’s such a hypocrite,” Caracalla mused as he entered the kitchen. He made a beeline for you, taking up Geta’s vacated spot and draping his arms around your waist. 

You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Right?” you sighed. “Whatever.” You pulled Caracalla closer and rested your chin on his shoulder so you could watch Geta. Geta shot you another look that had you rolling your eyes. 

Against your ear, Caracalla murmured, “Thanks for feeding him.”

You hummed softly and carded your hand through Caracalla’s hair, pulling him a little closer. You were feeling chilly, and while Caracalla didn’t have any heat to provide you, he was stabilizing and nice to touch, like a security blanket personified. 

Caracalla snickered softly. “Geta’s probably warmer than I am, considering…” he said. 

“Yeah, but he’s busy,” you replied. “And I think he might scold me some more if I try to interrupt him while he makes me lunch.” You paused. “Dinner? Whatever meal this is.” 

Caracalla giggled. “What about me?” he wondered. “What do I get for dinner?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but quick as a flash, Geta smacked his brother upside the head. “Get a blood bag or leave,” Geta huffed. “She’s had enough.”

“Jeez,” Caracalla said with a wince, “I’m just playing, I wasn’t actually going to drink from her…” He lifted his head and winked at you. Oh, he definitely had been planning on it. 

You shook your head, biting back a laugh. “Geta’s in protector mode again,” you observed, curling a lock of Caracalla’s hair around your finger. 

“Mother hen’s back to brooding,” Caracalla murmured conspiratorially, rolling his eyes. 

“Can you fuck off?” Geta demanded, smacking his brother’s arm. 

“Geta,” you chided.

“Sorry. Can you fuck off, please?” he corrected.

Caracalla laughed and moved away from you. Geta helped you down from the counter, making sure you were steady before he handed you a plate. He had made you a sandwich.

Maybe it was just the fact that you were still riding the high from the sex, or maybe you were still feeling the effects of the blood exchange— either way, when Geta handed you your food, tears flooded your eyes. 

“Are you crying?” Geta asked, confusion evident in his voice.

“I didn’t know you could fuck up a sandwich so bad it would make her cry, Geta,” Caracalla teased with a grin.

“It’s not that,” you sniffled. “The sandwich looks great.”

Geta furrowed his eyebrows. “Then what’s wrong?”

“I just…” You hiccupped. “You made me a sandwich.”

Geta looked at you as if you had grown another head. “…Uh-huh?”

You laughed through the tears. “You’re an immortal being who’s been around since the Roman empire— and you just made me a sandwich after we had sex.”

“You’ve finally broken her, brother,” Caracalla hummed, slinging his arm around your shoulders. “She’s well and truly cracked.” 

“Excuse me for still trying to get used to the situation,” you huffed, elbowing Caracalla’s side. “I don’t get what makes me so special.” 

“Does there have to be something specific?” Caracalla asked. “Is it not enough that you’re you?”

You started crying in earnest then. 

Geta carefully took the plate from your hands and set it aside before hugging you. He rubbed your back as you cried against his chest. 

“I-I’m not some chosen one,” you sobbed. “I’m hardly even a person sometimes.”

“Sweetheart,” Geta sighed softly. “What’s going on with you?”

“I don’t know,” you replied miserably. “I just feel… unworthy.”

“What nonsense,” Caracalla scoffed. “Of course you’re worthy.”

“Why?” you whined. “I don’t get it.”

“We really ought to work on your self-esteem,” Geta mumbled quietly. When you smacked him, he puffed out a laugh. “We like you,” he said simply. “I could list the reasons why, if you wish, but what it all boils down to is that we enjoy your company.”

“Plus, you know, your pussy is insane,” Caracalla added, making you laugh.

Geta grimaced. “Crude as ever,” he said flatly. 

“What, you don’t think my pussy’s insane?” you asked with a wobbly laugh. 

A slight pause. “…I didn’t say he was wrong,” Geta replied. “But the point is, even if you decided to never have sex with us again—“

“Please don’t do that,” Caracalla pleaded. “I don’t think I’d survive it.”

“ Caracalla ,” Geta hissed through gritted teeth, “I’m trying to make a point. Go sit down.” 

Caracalla huffed and rested his chin on your shoulder. “Don’t wanna,” he mumbled. He wrapped his arm around your waist. You absentmindedly reached up and patted his face, making him giggle. “I’ll be quiet now,” he assured his brother.

You swore you saw Geta’s eye twitch. “As I was saying,” he ground out, “ my love for you has no conditions. I’m simply happy to be around you.” 

“I am, too,” Caracalla murmured in your ear. “Just, y’know, by the way.” 

You took a deep breath and tried to process the deep well of vulnerability bubbling up inside you. To be loved unconditionally, just for existing… how special that was. How unusual. “Okay,” you croaked, wiping away your tears. “If you say so.” 

Geta smiled benevolently. “I do say so.” He handed you the plate again. “Please eat. I fear your low blood sugar is making you unstable emotionally.”

You snorted. “Thank you for your clinical analysis, Dr. Geta,” you teased. You took a bite of your sandwich and sighed through your nose. 

“Have you thought about the fact that we feel your devotion to us?” Geta asked. “And that perhaps we return it?” 

You swallowed thickly. “I… didn’t,” you said lamely. “That’s not a very familiar feeling for me.” 

“Should we kill your parents?” Caracalla wondered aloud. 

You nearly choked. “No!” you yelped. “What? Absolutely not!”

“Well, they clearly didn’t do their job right if you’re saying that,” Caracalla sniffed. “So I don’t see why we shouldn’t.” 

Geta pinched the bridge of his nose. “Have just a smidgen of tact,” he begged his brother. “Just an ounce; anything more than what you currently possess, which is none.” 

“Killing my parents won’t change my childhood,” you mused. “Besides, they’re… mostly better now.”

“Mostly,” Caracalla repeated, emphasizing the word to indicate they could be doing better. “Might make you feel better.”

“I doubt it,” you deadpanned. “Thanks, though. I think.” 

“Geta’s the protector,” Caracalla mused, “and I’m the violent one. It’s how I show my love.” He kissed your cheek. “Among other ways,” he purred. 

“Violent and horny,” you said with a laugh. “What more could a person ask for?”

“That’s what I’m saying ,” Caracalla said approvingly. “In any case, Geta’s just as bloodthirsty as me, he just keeps that shit locked up tight.” 

“Shut up,” Geta hissed.

“I don’t see why you try to fight it,” Caracalla continued. “It’s not like she doesn’t know what we are. She’s fine with it, right, sweetheart?”

You smiled. “Right, Cara,” you agreed, “…so long as you keep it mostly reserved for me.” 

“There’s those self-destructive tendencies again,” Geta sighed. “Eat your sandwich, (Y/N).” 

You took another bite. “I just don’t want you to go killing people willy-nilly,” you said through a mouthful of sandwich. “S’not good for you.”

“Oh, so you’re worried about us and not the people we kill,” Geta deadpanned.

You shrugged as you swallowed. “I mean, of course I care about them in the abstract, but I am more concerned about my boyfriends getting hunted by a mob, yeah.” 

“Humanity mostly stopped doing mobs a long time ago,” Caracalla informed you. “They depend very heavily on the justice system now.”

“Quote-unquote justice system,” you mumbled. You took another bite of your sandwich and leaned your head against Caracalla’s shoulder. 

Caracalla snickered. “Not likely we’ll get any mobs knocking at our door. Probably won’t get any cops, either. We’re pretty good at covering our tracks.”

“Not that we kill anymore,” Geta pressed, glaring daggers at his twin.

“Not that we kill anymore,” Caracalla affirmed, raising a hand in surrender. 

You puffed out a laugh and finished your sandwich, moving around Geta so you could pick up your orange juice from earlier. You drank the rest of that, too. “There,” you said. “I’ve eaten. Are you satisfied, Geta?”

“Hardly,” he replied dryly, “but I’ll take it.” 

You hummed and padded back over to him. “What would satisfy you?” you purred, walking your fingers up his chest. 

“Oh, Christ,” Geta grumbled as Caracalla cackled. 

“She’s insatiable,” Caracalla preened. 

“I’m just curious,” you chirped. “Nothing else.” 

“I think he’d be satisfied if you ate like a steak or something,” Caracalla supplied, hopping up to sit on the counter beside where Geta was standing. “Gotta replace your blood.”

You looked up at Geta with hopeful eyes.

“Not like that,” Geta groaned.

Caracalla laughed again. “Well, why not like that?” he asked. “That’s the whole reason we let her drink from us in the first place, right?”

“We don’t know what it actually does to her,” Geta hissed.

Caracalla shrugged. “It heals her,” he said. “What else is there to know?”

“Yeah,” you added. “So, you should give me more and I’ll be fine.” 

“This feels cyclical,” Geta said flatly. “We drink, you drink— none of us actually being fed.” 

“That’s why we supplement,” Caracalla mused, hopping down from the counter. He went to the fridge and pulled out a blood bag to wave at his brother (how had you missed those in your inspection?). “And you haven’t been supplementing.”

“You know, in your own assholeish way, you’re proving my point as to why (Y/N) should be taking iron,” Geta groused. “To supplement .” 

“If I start taking an iron supplement, will that satisfy you?” you mused. 

“It would be a start,” Geta said. “Ideally, we wouldn’t drink from you at all.”

You pouted. “Well, if that happened, you would starve, and I’d be bored again,” you said lightly. You leaned up and kissed him. Geta sighed through his nose, and you smiled. “You know I’m right,” you sing-songed. 

“I ate fine before we met you,” Geta huffed.

“‘Fine’ is not the word I would use,” Caracalla said. “Sporadically, maybe.” 

“Oh, look who’s using big words,” Geta snarked.

You lightly smacked his chest. “Enough,” you said. “He worries about you, Geta. So do I.”

Geta softened. “I know, baby.” He kissed your forehead. “I don’t take that for granted.” 

You cuddled up to him and wrapped your arms around his waist, nuzzling his shoulder. “I know you get hungry, Geta.” You kissed his shoulder. “That’s okay,” you assured him. “You shouldn’t suppress it, it’ll just make it worse.”

Geta sighed heavily. His arms suddenly curled around you, pulling you tight against his chest. 

“G-Geta,” you wheezed as he lifted you off your feet. “What—?”

“I love you,” he said as he put you back down. “You know that, right?”

“I know,” you said with a laugh. “I love you, too.” You patted his chest. “Will you try to eat more?”

“I will if you will,” Geta said.

You exhaled through your nose. “I eat fine,” you huffed. “Better than you.”

“Sure,” he said flatly. 

You rolled your eyes and turned to Caracalla, who was sipping from a blood bag. 

“I eat great,” Caracalla said with a grin. 

“And thank goodness for that,” you mused. “One of us has to. Can you get one for Geta, too?”

“Pass,” Geta said with a disgusted sneer. 

“I can warm it up,” Caracalla offered.

“What’s wrong with the blood bag?” you asked Geta with a pout.

Again, that face of disgust.

“Okayyy, well… should Caracalla and I go try to get a fresh source, or…?” you suggested.

“That’s worse,” Geta grunted.

“Geta’s basically a vegan vampire,” Caracalla mused. “He’s big on donor rights. Big change from when we were emperors, mind you, but I guess a lot can happen in a thousand years.” 

“How Edward Cullen of you,” you mused, smiling up at Geta.

Geta rolled his eyes. “Right,” he said dryly. “There are consequences for taking lives, you know.“

“No consequences with a blood bag,” Caracalla said.

Geta turned his eyes to you. “Think of it like this: would you rather eat the finest sashimi, or tuna from a can?” 

You snorted. “You know, canned tuna can be good depending on how you serve it,” you said. “You were already a vampire when the tuna sandwich was invented, but oh man. That’s good shit.” 

Caracalla offered his brother a blood bag. “Eat the canned tuna, Geta,” he mused. 

“You disgust me,” Geta sneered, though he took the bag, much to Caracalla’s delight and yours. 

“Just imagine it’s me,” you cooed.

Geta scoffed out a laugh. “Again, I must emphasize how different fresh blood and bagged blood are. I can’t even express how much better your blood is than anything I’ve ever tasted.”

That had you blushing. “Really?” you asked with a bashful smile. “You’re not just saying that?” 

“You’re ridiculous.” Geta pushed the blood bag back to his brother. “Can you heat this up for me, please?”

“Oooh, a please,” Caracalla said with delight. “(Y/N), you’re such a good influence on him.” 

“I’ve gotta be good for something,” you mused. 

“You are good for many, many things,” Geta purred, pulling you into a kiss. 

“Getting you to say please just happens to be one of them.” 

“Right,” Geta confirmed with a sweet smile. 

Caracalla heated up the blood bag and poured it into a mug. The scent of iron made you recoil a little, but it wasn’t egregious or nauseating. It was just… metallic. 

“Did you want one, too?” Caracalla offered with a sly grin.

“I’ll pass this time,” you mused. “Thanks, baby.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” 

Chapter Text

Two weeks had passed, and you forgot Geta wanted to visit you at work— right up until the moment he texted you to ask if Lucius was working that day. You checked the schedule and saw that he was, indeed, working that day. You texted Geta as much, but received no reply. 

Work was busy, so you sort of forgot again until you looked up and watched Geta walk through the front door. A blush immediately flooded your cheeks. He looked good, dressed in a simple black button-up tucked into dark jeans, with a chic pair of sunglasses on. As he got closer, you could see a thin gold chain around his neck and golden rings bedecking his fingers. 

You must’ve been obviously distracted, because you felt an elbow nudge you. You looked at your coworker beside you, his back turned towards the door. “(Y/N),” Lucius whispered, “you’re gawking.”

“Sorry,” you squeaked, your mouth closing with a click. 

Geta slid his sunglasses up onto his head and smiled at you as he approached you. “Excuse me miss, could you help me with something?” he purred, leaning against the counter.

“Whatever you want, handsome,” you breathed. 

From the corner of your eye, you could see Lucius shoot you a glance from his work station. You could practically hear the questions spawning in his brain.

“Lucius, come here,” you said with a little wave. “Come meet my boyfriend.”

Lucius sucked his teeth. “Ah, one of the famed boyfriends,” he marveled as he joined you. “Nice to—“

The air was suddenly thick with tension as Geta and Lucius got a good look at each other for the first time.

“—meet you,” Lucius ended lamely. 

“Likewise,” Geta said, his head tilted back slightly as he studied Lucius with squinted eyes. A frown played at the corners of his lips. 

“…Right,” you said slowly. “Okay. Um, Lucius, this is Geta. Geta, Lucius.” 

“Such an interesting name,” Geta observed. “A family name, perhaps?”

“Something like that,” Lucius replied vaguely. “Your name is also rather uncommon. I can’t say I’ve heard it in a modern context before.”

Geta’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. “Yes, well, now you have,” he said. 

“Lucky me.”

Your gaze darted from Lucius to Geta and back again. “Am I… missing something?” you asked. 

“I’ll tell you later,” Geta said, still staring at Lucius. 

“You’re holding up the line,” Lucius huffed. “Buy something or get out.”

You glanced behind Geta. There was no line. “Lucius, could you maybe not talk to my boyfriend like that?” you asked. “Please?”

“Sorry.” Lucius spared Geta one last look before returning to his work station without another word.

You looked at Geta, pleading with your eyes for him to give you even a glimmer of context. 

Geta softened immediately. “I’m sorry, my love, I didn’t mean to make your work situation tense,” he apologized. “When’s your lunch break? Can I bring you something?” 

“Sure, I won’t turn down free food.” You checked your watch. “I’ll be on break in, like, half an hour.” 

“Alright, I’ll be back then,” he assured you with a soft smile. “What do you want?”

“Chicken strips,” you answered. “You decide from where.”

“As you wish.” Geta leaned across the counter. “Do I get a kiss goodbye?” he purred.

You scoffed out a laugh. “You’re gonna get me in trouble,” you murmured, but you leaned in and gave him a quick kiss anyway. 

Geta winked at you and slid his sunglasses back on. “See you later, darling,” he said. 

“Bye,” you drawled, watching him leave. 

“You’re really dating that guy?”

Lucius’ voice and presence beside you made you jump. “Jesus Christ,” you gasped softly. “Don’t do that.” 

“My bad.” 

You sighed through your nose. “Yes, I am,” you said. 

He grimaced. “Why?”

“Because I love him, Lucius,” you scoffed. “What’s your fucking problem?”

Lucius opened his mouth to reply, but a customer ambled over, so Lucius simply shut his mouth and went back to work. You spent the rest of the time before lunch trying to loosen your tight shoulders and relax. It was fine. Geta would tell you what was going on. It was clear Geta and Lucius had some sort of past, but when your boyfriend was eighteen hundred years old, that wasn’t exactly difficult. They had pretended it was their first meeting, but neither were very good actors— or maybe their dislike for each other was just so overwhelming that it bled into their pretense. 

You couldn’t clock out for your lunch break fast enough. Lucius tried to talk to you, but you brushed past him into the late afternoon sunlight. Geta was waiting for you in the shade of a tree out back, a bag of food in his hand. Just the sight of him was enough to raise your spirits, at least a little. You went to him and took the bag from his hand, giving him a quick kiss before you went to sit at a picnic table still in the shade. Geta sat beside you. “Alright, start talking,” you prompted before you started eating. 

Geta sighed deeply. He slid his sunglasses up into his hair and rubbed his face. “Lucius is… an old friend,” he said. 

“Not very friendly,” you scoffed. “How old?”

Geta grimaced. “Old.”

“Old?” you repeated. “Like, old old?”

“Yeah.”

You blinked. All you could do for a moment was chew your food. “Not like… old—”

“Yes,” Geta interrupted with a sigh. “Old. As old as you’re thinking. Ancient. Roman.”

You let out a stunned laugh. “Lucius? Roman?”

“Is it so shocking?” Geta mused. “Again, I must press upon you the fact that you are dating two vampires.”

“Which, I must press upon you, is a freakish anomaly. It’s like an outlier.”

“I’m sorry to burst your bubble on this one, sweetheart, but it really isn’t. Caracalla and I are not the only vampires in your city, and we are far from the only supernatural beings.” Geta jutted his chin towards your workplace. “Case in point.” 

“That’s bullshit,” you protested. “Surely I would have—”

“What?” Geta interrupted. “Known?” He raised his eyebrows. “You really think you would?”

“I…” You trailed off, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “Yeah,” you said weakly. “Wouldn’t I?”

Geta smiled softly. “No, my love. We work really hard to keep it under wraps. In any case, there are just some things that are too unbelievable for humanity— or maybe it’s just easier for everyone to stay in denial, I don’t know.” Geta looked away from you and sighed through his nose. “I’ve spent a majority of my time on Earth studying humans,” he said, “but there are still some things that I have difficulty grasping.” 

You ate in silence for a few minutes, pondering. Geta let you think, likely doing some contemplation of his own. Finally, you spoke up again. “So… what’s Lucius? Not a vampire.” 

Geta smiled. “How do you know?” he wondered. “He could be.” 

You shook your head. “No,” you said, “he’s warm to the touch. Besides, he’s got this, like, vibe about him. It’s totally different from you and Cara.”

That made Geta laugh softly. “Oh yeah?” he mused. “Suddenly you’re a vampire expert?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you huffed. “He just doesn’t come across that way.”

Geta mulled that over. “You’re right, I think,” he said. “I have an idea, but I’m not certain. Believe it or not, I’m still learning, too.” 

“Hmm.” You took another bite of your food. “What else is there?”

“Sorry?” Geta asked with a puzzled smile. 

“Vampires, witches… what else?”

“More than I could say,” Geta answered. 

“Ghosts?”

Geta snickered. “Not quite how you imagine them,” he mused, “but yes.”

“Zombies?”

Geta tilted his head from side to side, mulling it over. “Again, not like how you imagine them, but there are forms of reanimated dead, yes.”

“Oh, well, of course, you’re one of them,” you teased. 

He rolled his eyes, but didn’t refute your statement. “Think of it like this: monsters in folklore are a reflection of human fears, right? They’re projections of perceived problems like sickness, death, desire, isolation, the dark— but sometimes they are what they are.” Geta gestured to himself. “Sometimes the nightmares are real.” 

You laughed, loud and boisterous, and Geta’s face fell. “What?” he demanded. 

“Nothing, nothing,” you wheezed as you tried to stop laughing. “It’s just—” You covered your mouth and took a deep, calming breath. “I’m sorry, baby, but that was a really cheesy thing to say.” 

“Oh, whatever,” Geta groaned, tipping his head back. “My point still stands.”

You sighed and turned your gaze to the back of your workplace, eyeing the door to the breakroom, almost expecting Lucius to walk through it at any moment. “What else is immortal?” you asked. 

“Not a lot,” Geta admitted. “Vampires. Werewolves—”

That made your ears perk. “Werewolves?” you repeated. “Werewolves are immortal?”

Geta shrugged. “They can be. They don’t usually last that long though— shifting takes a lot out of them, plus with the declining wolf populations—”

“You’re saying words to me,” you interrupted, “but I’m not processing them, so you should stop.” 

“They’re like lobsters,” he offered.

“Lobsters?” you repeated in a squeak. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

Geta grinned. “Lobsters live a long time,” he explained. “They don’t really age like other creatures. As long as they can eat and moult, they keep going.” 

You stared at your boyfriend for a long moment. “Were there werewolves in ancient Rome?” you asked weakly, deciding to ignore the lobster thing. 

“Are you familiar with the origin of Rome?” Geta mused. 

“Romulus founded the city of Rome after killing his brother Remus,” you answered, looking at him dubiously. 

“And Romulus and Remus were raised by…?”

“Oh, fuck off, Geta,” you scoffed. “That’s mythology!”

“Dating. Vampires,” Geta said with a very pointed look. “Tell me again what’s myth and what isn’t.” 

Your lips pressed into a thin line and you turned to finish your food. Geta let you eat in silence, though he did scoot closer and wrap his arm loosely around your waist. When you finished, you checked your phone and saw you still had 15 minutes left of your lunch break. You looked up at Geta and kissed him. “Is he a werewolf?” you asked. 

“I have no evidence for that, one way or another,” he answered, “but he could be.”  

You bit your bottom lip. “You really knew him?”

Geta nodded. “Not well,” he said dryly, “but yes. We knew each other.”

“Why is he here?” you wondered. “For you and Cara?”

Geta shook his head. “No, I don’t think so,” he sighed. “He looked as surprised to see me as I was him.” He considered you for a moment. “Maybe you should talk to him.”

“I don’t want to talk to him,” you muttered, leaning your head against his shoulder. “He was mean to you.” 

“He’s allowed to be mean to me,” Geta said. “I wasn’t exactly kind to him when we knew each other.”

“Geta, that was almost two thousand years ago,” you groused, “he could have a little tact.” 

Geta simply shrugged. “Don’t let his behavior towards me cloud your budding friendship. I know you like him.”

You frowned. “…Yeah,” you admitted, “he’s a cool guy.” 

“See?” Geta kissed your temple, then coaxed you into turning your head so he could kiss your lips. “It’s fine,” he assured you.

“You’re very forgiving,” you said.

“Two thousand years will do that to you.”

You smiled wryly. “Not to everyone, I guess.” You kissed Geta again, savoring it for as long as you could before you had to get up. 

Geta stood with you and took your face in his hands, kissing your forehead. “Enjoy the rest of your shift, my love,” he said.

“Not likely, but I’ll try.” You plucked your trash from the table. “Are you gonna be able to get home okay?”

“I’m fine,” Geta assured you. “I’m weaker, but even at my weakest, I’m still more capable than a human male.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” you mused. You gave him one last kiss. “Let me know when you get home.”

“Will do,” he agreed, sliding his sunglasses back into place. Geta smiled charmingly at you, and you got a little weak at the knees. You decided he couldn’t visit you at work anymore— it was too hard to leave him again. “I love you,” he purred.

“I love you, too,” you sighed. You gave him a little salute before retreating back to work.

Lucius was waiting for you in the break room. “We should talk,” he said.

“I know, but I don’t really want to,” you replied. “I’m mad at you.”

Lucius frowned. “I know. I’m sorry.” To his credit, he did sound genuinely sorry.

“Look, why don’t we meet outside of work?” you suggested. “We can go bowling or something, and have a nice, long conversation about the beef you have with my boyfriend.” 

That made him smile wryly. “Deal,” he agreed.

“Great. I’ll check the schedule,” you sighed. With that, you clocked back in and headed back to work. You had a lot to think about, and no time to think about it, but you weren’t going to see the twins that night, so you’d have plenty of time later. 

What were the odds that Lucius accidentally ended up in the same town as the twins? Slim to none, right? Was he planning something? What if he had something to do with Macrinus? The timing was awfully convenient…

Focusing on work was going to be next to impossible, but you would do your best— at the very least to keep from spiraling harder than you already were.

Chapter Text

You walked into the bowling alley and were greeted by the sound of pins being knocked over and the chirping of arcade machines. You had chosen the bowling alley both for its comforting familiarity and the noise to cover your conversation with Lucius. As you made your way to the shoe counter, you couldn’t help but notice that the retro carpet was worn flat by years of footsteps, the dull red pattern faded in high traffic areas. The bowling alley had been around long before you were born— much like Lucius himself, if Geta was right. 

You reserved a lane for a couple hours. Lucius arrived right as you were telling the man behind the counter your shoe size. “Oh, and his too, please,” you said, gesturing to Lucius.

You and Lucius took the bowling shoes and went to your lane, sitting across from each other as you changed into them. Shoes tied, you both just stared at each other for a moment. “You wanna go first?” Lucius asked.

“Uh…” You were a little stunned. He wanted you to start the conversation already?

He nodded towards the screen above the lane. “We came to play, right?” he mused. 

“Oh! Right!” You went to the little keyboard and typed in a nickname for yourself. “What should I put for you?” You smiled teasingly. “Luci?” you suggested.

“Luci works just fine,” he mused in return, and you typed it in. 

With the lane set up, you and Lucius went on the hunt for bowling balls. Once you found one of a satisfactory weight, you returned to your lane and took a deep breath to steel yourself. You rolled the ball down the lane, watching eagerly as it sped towards the pins. It knocked a few over— not a strike, but enough that you thought a spare was possible.

As you waited for your ball to return, you and Lucius studied each other. “So,” you finally said, “you know my boyfriend?”

Lucius gave you a short nod. “I do,” he confirmed.

“From the good old days?” you ventured.

“I wouldn’t call them that, but sure,” Lucius replied with a wry smile. 

You puffed out a laugh. “I don’t think Geta would call them that either.” You picked up your bowling ball as it rolled back to you from the ball return. “Cara might,” you mused, more to yourself than Lucius. You tossed the ball, and it spun quickly down the lane, hitting the remaining pins with a resounding crash. You grinned and did a little hop, unable to help yourself. “Spare!” you chirped, swinging back around to face Lucius.

“Way to go,” he said, giving you a thumbs up. He eased himself up from his seat with a grunt and grabbed his bowling ball. With an almost infuriating amount of ease, Lucius rolled the ball and immediately scored a strike. He turned back to you with a smug smile, though there was no malice behind it. “So, the brother’s still kicking too, huh?” Lucius sighed, slumping back in his seat. “I can’t say I expected that.”

You bristled. So he had to rag on both of your boys now? “And why not?” 

Lucius held up his hands in surrender. “Hey now, no shade to the little guy,” he mused, “I just remember him being a bit… unbalanced.”

“Well, he’s different now,” you huffed. You stood and went to take your turn. You hit more pins than before, but unfortunately you got a pretty nasty split. You weren’t sure if you’d get a spare this time around. 

“Boyfriends,” Lucius hummed while you waited for your ball to return. “Plural. Don’t tell me you’re dating both of them.” 

An embarrassed flush ricocheted through your body, setting your cheeks ablaze. “I don’t see why that matters,” you mumbled. 

“Oh my God,” Lucius marveled with a bark of laughter. “I shudder to think what that must be like.” 

Choosing not to respond, you picked up your bowling ball. You tossed a little too hard, your flustered state bleeding into your throw, and the ball made a beeline for the gutter. “Fuck,” you muttered. 

“Didn’t mean to throw you off your rhythm,” Lucius said as you returned to your seat. 

“Well, now I’m convinced this is a ploy to make me lose,” you teased, trying to lighten up a little. You had to tell yourself over and over that Lucius was your friend— or at the very least, he could be, if you let him. 

“Am I that transparent?” Lucius joked in return. Once the pins were reset, he got up and took his turn; another strike, God damn him. 

“How are you doing that?” you demanded.

“I’ve done a lot of bowling through the years,” he mused.

“Oh, of course, I forgot that you were there when bowling was invented.” 

Lucius laughed. “You know, you aren’t far off,” he said. “The Romans had a game quite similar to bowling in my time.”

“So, you admit it,” you said, then realized you were probably talking too loud and lowered your voice. “You were there.”

“I was,” he agreed, relaxing in his chair. “So were your boyfriends.”

“I know.” You sighed through your nose. “But, you’re not…?”

“No.” Lucius smiled wryly. “I’m different,” he said. 

“Different how?” you prompted.

“Guess.”

“I don’t want to,” you said with a slight whine.

“Then, take your turn, at least,” Lucius mused. “I’d like to keep the ball rolling, as they say.”

“Ha-ha,” you deadpanned, though you did get up to take your turn. You took a deep breath and contemplated the weight of the ball, staring down the lane. Right. You could do this; you just needed to loosen up. You rolled your shoulders, and then you rolled the ball down the lane.

Crash!

You broke into a grin as you got your first strike. “Fuck yes,” you breathed to yourself before turning to Lucius triumphantly. 

“Good job,” Lucius praised as he stood. “Now you just have to make another one, and pray that I don’t.”

You rolled your eyes. “Divine intervention is the only way to put the odds in my favor, I fear,” you sighed. 

“Should I let you win?” he mused as he picked up his bowling ball.

“God, no.” You sat back down and shook your head. “Beat me fair and square, please.”

“Can do.” Lucius stepped up to the line and flawlessly threw his ball, which knocked down the pins until they were all tipped over.

“Son of a bitch,” you mumbled. Maybe you should have asked him to go easy on you. 

The rest of the game went about how you expected. Lucius did fumble occasionally, but even with your improving performance, he kicked your ass. Fucking immortals. 

“We should eat,” you suggested, squinting at the final scores. “You do eat, right?” 

“I’m not made of stone,” Lucius replied dryly.

You hummed, turning your narrowed eyes to him. “Coulda fooled me,” you mused. “You’re pretty chiseled, you know?”

“Careful,” he warned teasingly. “The last thing I need is the twins on my ass because you decided to get flirty.”

“Just making an observation,” you laughed. “Anyway, aren’t you gay? And taken?”

Lucius gave you a coy smile. “Taken, yes,” he answered. 

“Duly noted,” you said, smiling back. “Food?”

He gestured towards the snack counter. “After you.” 

You ordered, and Lucius surprised you by paying for the both of you. “Payback for getting the lane,” he supplied. 

“Thanks,” you said, “but you didn’t need to do that.”

“I know,” he replied.

You took your food back to the lane, sitting at the table located just beyond where the wooden flooring met carpet. You snagged a fry from your basket of food and chewed thoughtfully, watching Lucius take a bite of his burger. “You eat human food, you seem fine in the sun, and your body temperature is normal,” you listed.

“I run hot, actually,” Lucius informed you, his mouth full. He swallowed before speaking again. “Base temp is 105.”

You sighed. “You’re a werewolf, aren’t you?”

Lucius smiled. “Could be,” he mused. “You’re still not sure, though.”

“Full moon’s in a couple days,” you said. “I could find out.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Lucius advised. “The twins would really kill me then.” 

“Well, that’s all the evidence I need,” you said with a smile. “Do you have a pack?”

“Oh my God,” he sighed.

“What?” you asked. “That’s a reasonable question!”

“We’re mostly solitary,” Lucius answered flatly.

“Is Ravi your mate?” you mused. 

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just ask me that.” 

“Am I being werewolf racist?” you asked with a grimace. “Are these microaggressions?”

Lucius huffed out a laugh. “Almost certainly,” he said.

“Damn it, my bad, chief.”

Lucius laughed again. “Do better,” he teased. 

You smiled and popped another fry into your mouth. “Geta said werewolves are like lobsters. Would you agree?” you wondered.

Lucius’ nose crinkled in disgust. “Your boyfriend’s fucking weird,” he said.

“That’s not an answer,” you mused. 

“Am I wrong?”

“No,” you amended, “but you’re still dodging the question. Are werewolves like lobsters?”

“I’m not dignifying that question with a response,” he said. He took another big bite of his burger and considered you as he chewed. 

“Can you transform?” you asked as he swallowed.

“That’s typically one of the hallmarks of lycanthropy, yeah,” Lucius mused. 

“Just on the full moon?” you followed up.

Lucius tilted his head from side to side, considering the question. “Plus a couple days before and after,” he said. “The window’s a little less than a week a month.”

“Oh, like a period!”

Lucius snorted. “Sure,” he said dryly. “Just like it.”

“Well, I’m assuming there’s blood involved.” As an afterthought, you added, “And hormone changes.”

“Hard to argue with that,” Lucius sighed with a wry smile. 

“Were you bitten?” you continued before shoving more fries in your mouth.

He shook his head. “Born with it,” he said, “though it can pass both ways.” 

“Really?” you asked, sitting forward in your seat. “Both your parents, or just one?”

Lucius nodded. “Both,” he said. “My mother, she was born one, but my father was bitten; by her, funnily enough.” He let out a little humorless laugh. “I’m surprised your little boyfriends didn’t tell you that.” 

“Why would they—?”

“Then again, their line didn’t have the curse,” Lucius remarked, “and you could certainly tell. Besides, they were pretty clueless most of the time, anyway.”

You bristled again, an offended scoff leaving you on behalf of the twins. “Are you going to explain what your problem with them is? Or just keep being a dick?”

Lucius grinned, clearly enjoying provoking you. “I haven’t decided yet,” he hummed. “It’s pretty funny.”

“I’m not laughing.” 

“I can see that,” Lucius said, his smile turning wry. “Do you really wanna know?”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course I wanna know.”

“Finish your food. I’ll tell you after we play another game,” Lucius said. 

You groaned, but didn’t fight the order, partially because you were hungry. Soon, your basket was empty and you were wiping off your hands so you could start a new frame. 

Lucius kicked your ass again, but you put up more of a fight this time. Before you knew it, the frames were filled and the screen was informing you that you were out of time. 

“Son of a bitch,” you murmured. “Now what?”

“Now we return our shoes,” mused Lucius, “and you go outside with me for a smoke while I tell you a little story.”

“I don’t smoke,” you said as you trailed after him back to the shoe rental counter.

“I do,” he tossed over his shoulder.

You switched your shoes and followed him out to the parking lot. There was a little bench next to a smoking receptacle, and you both plopped onto it as Lucius dug in his back pocket for a pack of cigarettes. You watched him light up and inhale deeply, the smoke curling from his lips into the early evening air. It was starting to get chilly outside, and you wished you had brought a jacket; luckily, heat seemed to radiate off of Lucius and raise the temperature of the air around you a couple degrees. 

“My grandfather was Marcus Aurelius,” Lucius started. 

“Marcus Aurelius,” you repeated. “As in, Meditations by?”

Lucius’ lips tilted into half a smile. “That’s the one.” 

“Woof,” you grumbled. “Quite a famous grandfather you have.”

“Quite,” he agreed. Lucius took another drag of his cigarette. “My mother was his daughter, and my father was a general who served under my grandfather. When my grandfather passed, my uncle took the throne; nasty man, my uncle. Nice enough to me, but terrible to my mother.” You could see Lucius’ eyebrows knit together as he looked down. “My father killed him,” he murmured softly. “They killed each other, actually.” 

“Oh, Lucius, I’m so sorry,” you said, gently touching his arm. 

Lucius managed a smile. “You know, you’d think eighteen hundred years would lessen the sting— and it does most of the time— but sometimes it still feels as fresh as it did when I watched it happen.” 

You let out a sympathetic hiss. “Christ, you watched it happen?”

Lucius puffed out a laugh. “Hundreds of people watched it happen,” he mused. “It was in the Colosseum.” 

“Oh??”

“Long story,” he said, and he took another drag. “The point is, they were both dead, which meant a big shift in power was coming, so my mother sent me away. She didn’t want me to be killed, you know.” 

“Reasonable,” you joked weakly.

Lucius really smiled then, appreciating your attempt at humor. “Certainly,” he said, “though at 11 years old, I didn’t exactly feel that way.” His smile fell as he brought the cigarette to his lips. He was silent for a long time, clearly lost in thought. You looked up at the evening sky, watching pink bleed into the dark blue of night, and let him ruminate.

After a few more minutes of silence, you gently prodded, “Where do the twins come into all this?”

“Ah. Right.” Lucius ashed his cigarette and nodded. “Sorry, I haven’t thought about Rome in a long time.”

“That’s alright,” you assured him softly. “I’m sorry to bring it up.”

Lucius slowly smiled and brought his cigarette to his lips to take another drag. “Don’t be,” he exhaled, smoke streaming out in a rush. “You’re entitled to a bit of backstory.”

“Oh, well, thank you,” you teased lightly. “Lucky me.”

Lucius puffed out a laugh. “That’s right,” he mused. “So, while I was gone, Rome went through a few emperors. When I finally returned, the twins happened to be on the throne. I was a gladiator for a bit— did they tell you that?”

You shook your head. “No,” you admitted. “What was that like?”

Lucius smiled wryly. “What do you think it was like?”

“Bad?”

“Bingo.” Another drag of his cigarette, deeper this time. “I met Geta after a fight. If you had seen him then, I don’t imagine you’d still be keen on him. He used to wear this hideous makeup, with his face painted white and his eyes outlined in black—“

You stopped listening, because you could only imagine Geta in trad goth makeup, and it was unfortunately turning you on. Oh God, and with his fangs out, too… you swallowed hard at the thought. How difficult would it be to convince him to let you do his makeup? Probably not super hard, right? God, he was going to read your mind when you got home and tease the shit out of you for even considering it. You needed to suppress the thoughts now, so he didn’t catch wind of them.

You were dimly aware Lucius was looking at you expectantly. “Y-Yeah,” you stuttered, “that, uh. That sounds terrible. Definitely not something I would be into.” 

“Jesus Christ, (Y/N),” Lucius scoffed.

“Shut the fuck up,” you squeaked, your cheeks heating up. “Don’t tell me you can read minds, too!”

“No, I can’t, and thank God for that. Judging from the way your body temperature is rising, I think I’d be throwing up,” he said, making a show of pretending to gag.

“I hate you,” you mumbled, covering your face with your hands. 

“No you don’t,” Lucius mused, smacking his hand against your back, hard enough to make you yelp. “Does that answer your questions?” 

“Um. I guess?” You grimaced. “Why are you here, Lucius?”

“Because you invited me to go bowling,” he snorted.

“No, I mean, why are you here?” you said again. “Like. In my town. Where the twins are.”

“Oh. That.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “That.”

Lucius took one last drag of his cigarette and stubbed it out. “I’m looking for someone,” he said vaguely. “I thought I’d find him here, but I found your stupid boyfriend instead.” 

“Who are you looking for?” you pushed, standing when he did.

“You wouldn’t know him,” Lucius said with a sniff. “Let me walk you to your car.” 

You did. Before you unlocked it, you turned to face him, looking up at him with your eyebrows furrowed. “Did you get a job where I work on purpose?” you asked.

“Somebody’s paranoid,” he mused. “Now why would I do that?”

“You clearly have some sort of plan—“

“Clearly,” Lucius repeated with a sly smile. “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Lucius, I’m being serious,” you insisted, your temper rising as you watched him walk away. 

“See ya at work!” he called over his shoulder. 

“Motherfucker,” you murmured through gritted teeth. How could he just ignore you like that? Asshole. 

Still fuming a little, you got in your car and texted Geta that you were on your way home. You had work the next day, so you were heading back to your apartment, but you knew the twins were still eager for updates. 

The drive home was boring, but then you pulled into your parking spot and nearly jumped three feet in the air. The twins were bathed in the light of your headlights, their eyes reflecting the light like a wild animal’s did. Geta squinted against the brightness, but Caracalla simply waved cheerfully. “What are you doing?” you asked, your shock plain on your face as you got out of your car. 

“Making sure you’re okay!” Caracalla exclaimed with a grin. “What are you doing?”

You locked your car and stood with your hands on your hips, studying them for a long moment. They simply stared back, likely knowing you were going to invite them in. You sighed through your nose. “You might as well come in,” you mumbled, trudging to your front door.

“Really rolling out the welcome mat for us tonight,” Caracalla teased. 

Geta’s hand brushed against your back, more of an acknowledgment than anything, and you immediately craved more— if only for the comfort he provided. You were still frustrated, but their presence bled it out of you. Despite the shock, you were glad to have them with you. 

“How did it go?” Geta asked once you were all inside your apartment, your things put away and your shoes off. His eyes scanned you anxiously. They seemed even bigger than usual. Was Geta… scared?

“Lucius is a very good bowler,” you answered, even though you knew that wasn’t what he meant. “He kicked my ass. Twice.”

“Guess we’ll have to work on your form,” Caracalla purred with a suggestive smile. 

“What did he tell you?” Geta pressed, firmly ignoring his brother. 

“He’s a werewolf,” you sighed as you flopped onto your couch and stretched out. “And he told me a little bit about his past. He’s so vague about everything, it’s kind of infuriating.” 

Caracalla sat beside your head and encouraged you to lay your cheek on his thigh. He stroked your hair, and you let out a big sigh as you nuzzled into his lap. 

“What did he say about us?” Geta asked, still standing with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Not a lot. He mentioned that he was a gladiator while you were emperors, and that you used to wear horrendous makeup— his words, not mine,” you answered with a grin. Mentioning the makeup made you envision trad goth Geta again, and you used Caracalla’s thigh to hide your face. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it—

Caracalla cackled. “What’s going on in there?” he prodded, poking your head. 

“Nothing. Nothing at all. I’m normal and regular, and I’m having normal and regular thoughts.” 

“Clearly,” Geta mused dryly. “I’ll press about that later. What else?” 

“I don’t know, he wasn’t really interested in going into detail, and I didn’t push because I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable,” you huffed. 

Geta hummed. You could tell he wasn’t pleased, but he didn’t say anything about it. 

“Well, why don’t you talk to him, if you’re so curious?” 

“He doesn’t like me,” Geta replied flippantly. “I doubt he’ll be interested in answering any of my questions.”

“I dunno, maybe we can go on a double date with him and Ravi,” you said wryly. 

“Is it still a double date if you have two partners?” Caracalla wondered.

“You don’t get to come,” Geta snapped.

Caracalla pouted. “Aw, man.” 

You rolled over so you could look up at Caracalla, reaching out to squeeze his face. “You wouldn’t want to, anyway,” you said. “Lucius is mean.”

Caracalla rolled his eyes. “I can handle someone being mean to me,” he mused. He gently grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand up so he could kiss your palm.

“I hope so. Have you met your brother?”

“Very funny,” Geta said flatly. 

You sat up and stretched. “I need to get ready for bed,” you said. “What’s your plan?”

The twins were silent for a long moment.

You sighed through your nose. “Do you want to stay the night?” you asked.

“Yesss,” Caracalla cheered, sliding his arms around your waist. 

“Okay, well, no funny business,” you warned, though you affectionately trailed your hand along his arm. “I need to take a shower and actually go to sleep so I’m not exhausted tomorrow.” 

“I’ll ensure Caracalla behaves,” Geta assured you.

“Uh-huh, and who’s gonna make sure you behave?”

Geta looked offended you would even ask such a thing. “I am perfectly capable—“

“Not if I ask sweetly enough,” you purred. “Then all bets are off.” 

Geta rolled his eyes. “In that case, the real question should be who is going to ensure that you behave?” he scoffed.

“Certainly not me,” Caracalla purred. 

You gave Caracalla a kiss before you stood. “Get comfortable, I guess. I don’t know why you guys wanna stay, you’re going to get bored.” 

“Better to be bored with you than without you,” Caracalla cooed as he stretched out on the couch.

Geta welcomed you into his arms as you went to kiss him. “When will you realize we just like being around you?” he murmured. 

“Maybe never,” you mused. You kissed him again, and his arms tightened around you as you deepened the kiss. You smiled. “See what I mean about if I were to ask sweetly enough?” you purred.

“You’re trouble,” he huffed, releasing you. “Go take a shower. You smell like cigarettes and dog.” 

“Woof.” You kissed him again and moved around him to head to your bathroom. 

You showered, taking time to consider all that Lucius had told you. He was most certainly not telling you the whole story, but did you care enough to dig? Moreover, you suspected the twins weren’t telling you the whole story, either. You were starting to piece things together, but you felt as if there was still a large chunk missing.

A large, suspiciously Macrinus-shaped chunk. 

When you returned to your room to get your pajamas, you found the twins had taken over your bed. They sat side by side, with just enough room between them that you could maybe fit. You were reminded of your first night with them at their house. “Over the covers and fully dressed,” you mused as you headed to your dresser. “You two sure know how to get comfy.” 

“Geta wouldn’t let me take my clothes off,” Caracalla said with a pout. 

“That’s not what I said,” huffed Geta. “I said that I didn’t think it would be appropriate if you were naked when she got out of the shower.”

You laughed. “How considerate, Geta. Thank you.” 

Geta looked proud, though you could tell he was trying to stifle his reaction. Oh right, the praise kink you had yet to take advantage of. “What time is it?” you wondered.

Caracalla checked his phone and opened his mouth to tell you, but Geta cut him off. “Time for you to go to bed,” he said.

“But—“

“No buts,” Geta refuted. “You’re going to sleep at the time you would if we weren’t here.”

“But…” You bit your lip and trailed off. “You are here…” 

“Then we can leave,” Geta suggested gruffly.

“No!” you and Caracalla whined at the same time.

Geta rolled his eyes. “Then focus on being responsible adults for once, both of you,” he grunted.

You and Caracalla shared a look. Yeah, no, you would not be doing that.

You let your towel drop and made a show of bending over as you slid on a fresh pair of panties. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you heard Geta mutter. 

You bit back a smile and slid on a sleep shirt before crawling into bed with them. “You’re on my side, you know,” you purred to Geta. “So I’ll probably have to sleep on top of you just to get comfortable.” 

“Geta, I’m happy to switch with you, if you want,” mused Caracalla. “I’d hate for you to be imposed upon.”

“I’m trying to help you,” Geta sighed as you moved to straddle him. “I’m doing exactly what you asked. No funny business.”

“I know,” you cooed, taking his face in your hands, “and you’re such a good boy for trying.”

Geta swallowed hard. “You’re breaking your own rule,” he croaked.

“But you aren’t, are you?” You smiled. “You’re being so sweet and respectful.” You brushed your thumb over his cheek and tilted his head back so you could kiss him. “You’re so good at following directions, Geta,” you purred quietly. 

“Stop it,” he said firmly.

You groaned and shifted down his body so you could fall against his chest. “But I wanna play,” you whined. 

“You need to go to bed,” Geta insisted, softer this time. He skimmed his hand up your back. “Remember what we talked about? You’re supposed to be taking better care of yourself.”

“What’s better self care than a couple orgasms?” you muttered, though you rolled off of Geta and settled back between the twins. You looked up at Caracalla, who immediately pecked a kiss on your forehead. “Right, Cara?”

“I’m always saying this,” he agreed with a grin. “But you did say no funny business.”

“Damn you both for being so respectful.” You got under the covers. “Take your clothes off, at least; for my sake.” 

The twins obeyed and got under the covers with you. You immediately cuddled up to Geta and urged Caracalla to wrap his arm around you so you could be sandwiched in between them. They were nice and cool, so you weren’t worried about overheating while you slept. Geta shut the light off. 

“Are you sure we can’t—“ you tried to say.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” Geta replied firmly. 

You groaned and buried your face in his neck. “Goodnight,” you mumbled. 

Caracalla kissed your shoulder. “I love you,” he cooed.

You turned your head to kiss him. “I love you, too,” you said with a smile. 

Caracalla coaxed you to turn towards him a little more so he could kiss you again. You rolled onto your back and wrapped your arms around Caracalla’s neck, sighing through your nose as he deepened the kiss. 

When little whimpers started to leak from your throat, Geta pushed his brother off of you. “Sleep,” Geta ground out.

You panted softly. “But—“

“I’ll drag him home,” Geta threatened. “I can do it. I am stronger than him.”

Caracalla rolled his eyes and flopped down beside you. “He wishes,” he murmured to you. 

You laughed and ran your hand through your hair. “Alright, alright, I will go to sleep,” you said. You rolled onto your stomach and got comfortable with your head on Geta’s shoulder. “I love you, Geta.” 

Geta sighed deeply and kissed your forehead. “I love you, too,” he said.

“I’m gonna get you back for this,” you mused.

“A small price to pay for ensuring my girlfriend gets a full night of sleep,” Geta deadpanned. “I’m sure I’ll cope.” 

Chapter Text

A few days later, right at the end of a late shift at work, you got a call from Lucius. “You wanna see something cool?” he asked as soon as you answered.

“Uhhh… I guess that depends on what you mean by cool,” you replied cautiously.

“You know what today is?”

You squinted, trying to recall. Did you know what day it was? “Tues…day?” you tried.

“First of all— no. It’s Sunday, and you’re a terrible guesser. Second of all— there’s a full moon tonight,” Lucius informed you. 

“Oh!” You looked up at the sky through your car windshield and then glanced down at the clock on your dashboard. “Good luck with that.”

“Thanks,” Lucius snorted. “Wanna come over and watch?”

“What?” you asked, alarmed. “Really?”

“Sure,” he said. “I won’t hurt you, you know. When you’ve lived as long as I have, you learn how to control the more wild parts of the wolf.” 

“You said it wasn’t a good idea to see you on a full moon,” you pointed out.

“I meant if you were to surprise me. I’m inviting you, so it’ll be fine.”

“Why are you inviting me?” you asked, suddenly suspicious. “Trying to get rid of me?”

Lucius laughed. “No,” he assured you. “I just know you’re curious; plus, I want you to meet Ravi.”

“I highly doubt Ravi wants a stranger there when you transform,” you sighed. 

“Says you.”

You exhaled slowly and pursed your lips as you considered his offer. “I don’t know, man, it’s pretty short notice.”

“What, are you scared?” Lucius mused. 

“Yeah, a little!” you admitted.

“Bring a twin if you’re that worried about it,” he said. 

“A twin?” you repeated with a laugh. “Singular?”

“I don’t know if I can handle both at once.”

“I certainly can,” you replied automatically, a wry smile playing on your lips.

You heard Lucius gag through the phone. “Never say shit like that to me again,” he groaned. “I do not need to be envisioning that.”

“You pervert, what are you doing imagining it?” you teased. 

That made him laugh. “Look, do you wanna come over or not? Final offer, take it or leave it.”

“I fear my curiosity is getting the best of me,” you sighed. “Send me the address.” 

A beat of silence and then you felt your phone buzz. “Done. See you soon.”

“See ya.” You hung up and immediately called Geta.

He picked up within two rings. “Are you okay?” he asked, the barest tinge of panic bleeding into his voice.

“I can’t just call you? Something has to be wrong?” you mused. 

“Is something wrong?” Geta pressed.

“No, baby, nothing’s wrong,” you assured him. “Lucius invited me out tonight.”

A beat of careful silence. “Did he?” Geta was clearly trying very hard to keep his voice measured. “How nice.” 

“He’s gonna let me see him wolf out.”

“What?” Geta asked, alarmed. “No. That’s not safe at all.”

“Lucius said it’s fine,” you chided. “He’s even older than you are, Geta, I’m sure he has a handle on the transformation.” 

“You can’t be sure of that,” he protested. “What if you get hurt? What if he bites you?”

“The only person I’d let bite me is you, honey.” You snickered. “And your brother.”

“This isn’t funny, (Y/N), I’m genuinely concerned about this.” 

“Well, Lucius said I could bring a twin, do you wanna come with?”

Geta was silent for a long time— long enough that you had to check your phone because you thought he hung up. “Geta?” you asked. “You okay?”

“I’m thinking,” he murmured.

“It’s a learning opportunity,” you cooed encouragingly. “How much do you really know about werewolves? Could be cool.” 

Geta let out a flat ‘hmm.’

“I could take Caracalla,” you suggested. 

“Absolutely not,” Geta scoffed. “What is Caracalla going to do to help you in the event something bad happens? Out of the question.”

You rolled your eyes. “He’s a perfectly capable vampire, Geta, you need to realize that one of these days.”

Another flat sound of acknowledgement. 

“Okay, well, I’m going whether you come with me or not,” you said. 

“Wait.” Geta sighed. “Fine,” he replied. “I’ll go with you.” 

“Great,” you chirped. “Are you at the house? I’ll swing by and pick you up.”

“Yes.” 

“Okay, be over in a jiff,” you mused. “I love you.”

His voice was much softer as he said, “I love you, too.” 

You grinned and hung up. Before you left for the twins’ house, you shot Lucius a quick text to inform him that you would indeed be bringing a twin with you. 

The drive was quick, and then Geta was sliding into your passenger seat, a displeased scowl already ingrained into his features. “Hi, baby,” you cooed, leaning over to kiss him.

Geta returned the kiss. “This is a bad idea,” he mumbled.

“Your opinion is noted,” you acknowledged brightly as you put your car in reverse. You backed out of the driveway and started in the direction the GPS indicated. “But honestly, with two immortals there, what could go—?”

“Don’t,” Geta interrupted loudly, “even put it out there.” He huffed. “The last thing I need is you jinxing us.”

“So paranoid,” you teased gently. “Fine— but I really think it’s gonna be alright. I trust Lucius.”

“I don’t see why,” Geta groused. “You barely know the man.”

“I trust him because he trusts me,” you said with a little shrug. “If he’s willing to share this with me, extending him the same courtesy is the least I can do.”

Geta scoffed, but otherwise said nothing.

“So grumpy.” You glanced at your boyfriend. Geta sat with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Thanks for coming with me,” you offered.

Geta softened a fraction. “I certainly wasn’t going to let you go otherwise,” he sighed.

“Oh no?” You drummed your fingers against the steering wheel and tilted your head slightly. “You think you could have stopped me?”

“Easily,” he confirmed.

A smile played at your lips. “How would you do that?”

Geta was silent for a beat, and when you glanced at him again, he was studying you. “Stop flirting with me,” he said flatly.

You scoffed. “I can’t flirt with my boyfriend?” you asked incredulously.

“Not when you’re leading us into a deathtrap.”

“Oh, please,” you groaned. “Why are you coming with me if you feel that way?”

“Do you honestly think I’d let you walk into something like that alone?” Geta exhaled slowly through his nose. “Look, just because I’d die for you doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.” 

Your heart beat faster in your chest, a quick thump-thump-thump you could feel crawling into your throat. “You’d die for me?” you croaked.

“Stupid question.”

You glanced in the rearview mirror. Seeing there were no cars behind you, you pulled over to the side of the road. You were on the edges of Geta’s neighborhood, so you could just pull up to the curb. 

“What are you doing?” Geta asked, a little alarmed. 

“Are you genuinely that worried?” you asked, voice gentle. You weren’t accusing him of anything, you were just trying to gauge how much of his attitude was for show.

Geta hesitated. “I don’t think it’s safe,” he answered carefully, “but no, I don’t think we’re actually going to die.” 

You surged forward and kissed him. Geta sighed through his nose and took your face in his hands, keeping you close so he could deepen the kiss. 

You pulled away before it could get too heated, and Geta was smiling. “I love you,” you said.

“I love you, too,” he sighed. “Can’t we just go back home and continue? I’ll let you flirt with me as much as you want.”

You laughed. “Tempting,” you mused, “but I’m afraid the flirtations will just have to wait. The sun is setting and I don’t know how much longer we have.” 

“Fine,” Geta grumbled. 

“I’ll give you a special treat when we get home,” you promised as you pulled back onto the street and continued on your way. 

“…Like what?”

You grinned. His obvious intrigue was very endearing. “Something to show you how much I appreciate you being such a good boy,” you answered. 

A very careful silence from Geta had you holding back laughter. You didn’t need to read his mind to know he was thinking hard. “Does that sound good?” you asked. 

“I’m certainly not against it,” he said with a soft puff of laughter. 

“Not exactly the enthusiastic approval I was looking for, but I’ll take it,” you mused. 

The GPS sent you out of town into the more rural areas surrounding it, and then even further into a densely forested area that had you carefully scanning the edges of the road to ensure there were no wild animals about to wander onto the dark road. 

“I shudder to think of you driving this alone,” Geta murmured. “Can you even see?”

“My delicate human eyes can still see, yes,” you said dryly. “There’re these magical things called headlights. Look, there are even ones called brights—“ you pushed the handle beside your steering wheel to turn on your brights, “—that help me see even better.” 

“Yes, yes, you’re very clever,” he sighed. 

You grinned. “Gotta love human innovation,” you said.

“Sure.”

You turned onto a one-lane road that led you deeper into the forest. The trees seemed to curl around the car, forming a tunnel that blocked out the sky and made you a little claustrophobic.

Right as you considered turning around, the trees suddenly dissipated and you were pulling up to a cozy looking cabin with glowing windows. You parked behind Lucius’ car and looked at Geta. “Ready?”

“No,” he said. “Let’s go.” 

Chapter Text

A handsome man with brown skin and shoulder-length, dark hair opened the door. He smiled pleasantly at the sight of you. “Ravi?” you guessed.

“You must be (Y/N),” Ravi greeted. “It’s so nice to meet you.” His eyes slid to Geta, and you were surprised to see that his smile didn’t falter. “You need no introduction,” he mused as he scanned your boyfriend. 

Geta scowled. “Do we know each other?”

“I certainly know you,” Ravi said. He stepped aside, holding the door open. “Please, come in.” 

You stepped inside the cabin. It was decorated warmly, and an apple-scented candle flickered on the coffee table in front of a worn leather couch. Lucius lounged on the couch, his feet propped on the table, and he raised his hand in recognition. He was eating a bowl of spaghetti and meatballs. 

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” you wondered as you went to join him on the couch. Geta hovered uncertainly by your side until you dragged him down to sit beside you.

“I am getting ready,” Lucius answered through a mouthful of spaghetti. He swallowed. “I’m carbo-loading.”

“Right, right.” You checked your phone for the time. “Last I checked, the moon was out.”

“Not high enough,” he said. “Gotta be at its peak.”

“Now that just seems silly,” you said, furrowing your eyebrows.

Lucius merely shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.” He nodded towards Geta. “Your boyfriend can’t enter a building without an invitation. That doesn’t seem silly to you?” 

Geta bristled beside you, but you ignored him. “I didn’t say that,” you tutted. “It’s all silly. My life has been nothing but silliness since I met the twins.”

Geta scoffed, but remained otherwise silent.

Again, Lucius shrugged, this time shoving another bite of food in his mouth. 

You turned your attention to Ravi. “Hi, Ravi,” you said with a smile.

Ravi smiled back warmly. “Hello, (Y/N).”

“Are you…” You tried to think of an appropriate word and failed. “…supernatural, too?” you decided. 

“Indeed,” Ravi confirmed, clearly amused. He pulled at the collar of his shirt, revealing a deep scar on his shoulder in the shape of a bite mark. The scar was faded, but still obvious. 

“You’d think after a thousand years it’d be gone by now,” Lucius said. “Alas…”

“Rules,” Ravi mused. He let his collar move back into position. 

“So, Lucius bit you?” you marveled.

“He asked me to,” Lucius replied for his boyfriend. 

“And you were there?” After a beat, you clarified, “In Rome, I mean.”

“I was. I was a gladiator, too, for a while,” Ravi said. His eyes darted to Geta, though you sensed no malice— just a sort of curiosity. You doubted he knew that the twins had been turned into vampires, and you imagined seeing one again after so long must have been a bit of a shock. 

“Gosh, I feel a bit like the odd man out,” you said with a laugh. “Would that I could go back to ancient Rome…”

Ravi laughed at that, though neither Lucius or Geta did; Geta didn’t even crack a smile. 

You cleared your throat. “Right, well, um… what’s the plan for tonight?” 

“Lucius and I will retreat to the backyard a bit before the transformation begins. While Lucius’ assurance that we have control over ourselves in wolf form is true, I’d rather you and Geta watch from the window in the kitchen, if it’s all the same to you,” Ravi said. “Sometimes the transformation process can get a bit… messy.”

“You guys don’t need to like… get chained up, do you?” you asked, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment as soon as the question left your mouth. Asking Lucius stupid questions was one thing— you didn’t want Ravi to think you were foolish. 

“No, no,” Ravi answered kindly. “We’re far away enough from town and old enough that I’m not worried about any sort of interaction with humans.”

You looked at Geta with your eyebrows raised, hoping you conveyed the proper amount of ‘I told you so.’

Geta seemed unamused by your pointed stare. “And what are we meant to do while you’re off galavanting in the woods?” he asked. 

“You’re welcome to come with us, Geta,” Lucius mused from your other side. “I’ve heard vampires can run fast. Maybe we could chase you and find out just how fast you can go.” 

Geta growled— a real, actual growl that rumbled in his throat— and seemed like he was about to surge to his feet, so you looped your arm through his to keep him pinned to your side (not that you could stop him if he really wanted to get up). Your touch seemed to assuage him, and Geta relaxed minutely. 

“You shouldn’t tease our friends like that, Lucius,” Ravi scolded. 

“Geta is no friend of mine,” Lucius grunted as he stood and stretched. You averted your eyes to avoid looking at the stretch of skin that was revealed as his shirt rode up. You hated him a little bit in that moment— partly because he was mean to your boyfriend, and partly because he was kind of hot. You only looked back up at him when he moved in front of you. “I sort of wish you brought the little one,” Lucius mused before passing by you with his empty bowl in hand. 

“He was busy,” Geta ground out through gritted teeth. “So you’re stuck with me.”

“Shame,” Lucius sighed with a shrug before disappearing into the kitchen. 

Ravi shook his head and sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said earnestly. “He gets testy while the moon is rising. You must understand, there’s a level of discomfort as the wolf starts to push through.” 

“Oh, of course,” you breathed. “I mean, I get bitchy when it’s my time of the month, too.”

From the kitchen, you heard a loud, mirthful bark of laughter that made you grin. 

Ravi stood, and so did you. “Please, make yourselves comfortable,” he said, gesturing for you to sit back down. “I’m just going to gauge how much time we have left.”

“Okay,” you said softly as you sat back down. You watched him join Lucius in the kitchen, and then you looked at Geta. His expression was cold enough to send an unpleasant shiver down your spine. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said.

You scooted closer to him so your thigh pressed against his, and you took his hand, bringing it to your lips to kiss. “Be honest,” you chided.

He remained stubbornly stony. “I am being honest,” he lied.

You made a soft sound of distress. “It’s okay if you’re uncomfortable, you don’t need to lie to me,” you said quietly. 

“I’m not.” 

You sighed through your nose and kissed his hand again. “Okay,” you said, knowing it was useless to continue pushing him. 

Geta hesitated a moment before leaning in and kissing your cheek. It was quick, barely there really, but it still made your heart glow. 

You were about to lean in for a proper kiss when Lucius returned to the living room. “Come on,” he beckoned. “We’ll get you set up to watch.”

You followed Lucius to the kitchen, which contained a large bay window near a breakfast table that overlooked the backyard. It was so dark outside, it was hard to make out anything, and was honestly a little chilling to look at. You felt a twinge of fear curl in your stomach, and then felt silly for feeling such a thing. Geta’s hand pressed against your lower back to steady you.

“Scared already?” Lucius mused. 

“Shut up,” you said defensively. “Am not.”

“Sure,” Lucius mused. “Your heart rate picking up is pure coincidence.”

“How do you even know that?” you scoffed, your cheeks suddenly burning. What was with these supernatural beings monitoring your bodily functions? The twins did something similar. Frankly, you weren’t sure what was worse— Lucius picking up on the subtle changes in your body like heart rate and core temperature, or Lucius doing that and telling you about it. 

“It’s fucking loud,” Lucius said with a laugh. “We have heightened senses, you know— for the hunt. Same as your little boyfriends.” 

“Have you always been such a condescending ass, or is that a new development?” Geta asked coolly. 

“You know, I think it happened around the time I met you the first time,” Lucius deadpanned in return. “You just bring it out in me.” 

“Lucky me.”

You looked from Geta to Lucius and back again. There was a… strange tension between them. If you didn’t know better, you’d accuse them of flirting.

Geta sneered. “Don’t even think it,” he said, disgust obvious in his voice.

You laughed. Oh right— mind reader. “Sorry,” you said. “You gotta admit—“

“I’ll do no such thing.”

Now it was Lucius’ turn to appraise you and Geta. “What am I missing?”

“Nothing of importance,” Geta said. “Certainly nothing that needs to be shared.”

“Now I’m curious.”

“Shame,” Geta said, echoing Lucius’ earlier statement. 

Okay. This definitely felt like flirting. Before you could tease them about it, Ravi entered the room in a plush robe. It was open enough to reveal a bit of his chest, and you found yourself blushing a little. Did everyone have to be so hot? You know, a lot of people said vampirism and lycanthropy were curses, but what about your curse? The curse of constantly being surrounded by beautiful men, that is.

If Lucius or Ravi clocked your reaction, neither mentioned it. “Lucius is intent on putting on a show,” Ravi said, “but I’m a bit shyer than he is. I’ll be just beyond the treeline for the transformation, but I’ll come back so you can see my wolf.”

“That’s very generous, Ravi, thank you,” you said. 

“He wants to show off, too,” Lucius mused, “he just doesn’t want to admit it.” He nudged his boyfriend with his elbow, and Ravi simply smiled and rolled his eyes.

“You wish,” said Ravi. “You’re the entertainer here.”

Lucius grinned. “And are you not entertained?” 

“Debatable,” Ravi hummed. He nudged Lucius back. “Are you going to get ready, or what?” 

At that, Lucius lifted his shirt up and off. You turned away quickly, your cheeks aflame. You took in the sight of Geta’s clenched jaw, and then suddenly there was a t-shirt hitting his face. 

Geta batted away the shirt, and in a blur of movement, he had Lucius pinned against the kitchen wall. “I’ve had enough of your disrespect,” Geta hissed.

Lucius was unfazed. “Oh? What are you going to do about it, Geta?” he mused. “Kill me? Or maybe you’ll get someone else to do it, like you did with my mother.”

“You know I had nothing to do with that.”

“No? What about my step-father?”

“Alright,” Ravi cut in gently, urging Geta to take a step back. “That’s enough.”

“I cared very dearly for your mother,” Geta said softly as he backed up until he was at your side again. “Caracalla did, too.”

“And yet she’s dead, and you’re still here,” Lucius said. “Where’s the justice in that?”

“I didn’t say it was fair.” 

“Whatever.” Lucius rolled his shoulders. You could see Geta’s handprint emblazoned in his skin where Geta pushed him. The tension in the air was so palpable it made you sick to your stomach. Lucius didn’t look at you as he stormed outside, the back door slamming shut behind him. Geta went in the opposite direction, absconding to the living room and leaving you alone with Ravi in the kitchen. 

Ravi sighed through his nose. “I’m sorry about that,” he said. 

“I’m sorry about that,” you replied hurriedly. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” His smile was so gentle, it further churned your stomach. “I’m not sure why Lucius invited you over,” he said honestly. “Maybe this outburst was part of his intention.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Do you think so?” You looked at the backyard again, but it was still too dark to see anything beyond where the kitchen light spilled out through the window. 

Ravi nodded thoughtfully. “Lucius has been very tense since seeing Geta again,” he said. “I think he wants some kind of… release.” Ravi sighed again and ran his hand through his hair. “The change will help.”

“Talk about a release,” you joked weakly. 

Ravi smiled, and you were taken by his generosity. Why was he being so kind to you? Because you were Lucius’ friend? You weren’t even that close; you were hardly even friends. “He always likes to pick a fight beforehand. It makes it easier for him, I think,” Ravi observed. He looked at you, and it felt like his dark eyes pierced you, as if he could see all the way to your soul. “It isn’t your fault,” he said.

Tears pricked your eyes before you could push them down. “Okay,” you squeaked. 

“Do you still want to watch?”

You nodded.

Ravi pulled out a chair from the breakfast table and positioned it in front of the window. “Please, sit,” he offered.

You sat, and Ravi turned the kitchen light off. Once your eyes adjusted, you could see the backyard with surprising clarity. Lucius stood in the center of your line of sight, his head tipped back to look up at the moon. Bathed in moonlight, he looked almost ethereal, truly like the supernatural creature you always imagined. 

“Take whatever you need while you’re here,” Ravi said gently. “We won’t be back until the early morning.” 

“Okay.” You caught his hand before he could move away. “Ravi… thanks,” you said earnestly. “Really.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome.” He squeezed your hand softly and slipped out the back door. You watched him stop and speak to Lucius before he continued on towards the treeline. 

Lucius leveled his gaze on you, and a chill ran down your spine. Without really meaning to, you raised your hand and waved at him. He cracked a smile and waved back, and you were able to relax a little. Lucius went back to staring at the moon, and you studied him. He had taken off his pants, leaving him in a pair of boxers, and you could see the moonlight reflecting off a sheen of sweat that covered his body. 

“Scoot over.”

You startled and looked up at Geta. He stood beside you, chair in hand, and jutted his chin towards you. “Scoot,” he repeated. You obediently scooted over, and he placed his chair behind you. Geta dragged your chair closer until you were shoulder to shoulder, his knee knocking gently against yours. 

“Are we going to talk about what happened?” you asked, your voice so soft it was almost a whisper. 

“Not yet,” he said. “We’re going to watch first, and then we can talk.” 

“Okay.”

Geta slid his hand in yours and squeezed. 

In the yard, you could see Lucius’ chest expand as he took a deep breath. His hands flexed down by his thighs and splayed out, the tendons pushing beneath the skin. His head was still tipped back, his eyes closed, almost as if he was in a moment of reverence. You leaned forward to watch as his ribcages stayed expanded, even as his breath started coming out in short, staccato bursts. Every muscle seemed to strain beneath the skin until it looked like they were going to bust through at any moment. Lucius suddenly curled in on himself, his vertebrae obvious and sharp along his spine. 

And then, they broke through.

A gasp left you as his skin split along his spine. Lucius was still in profile, so you couldn’t see the actual split, but you saw the sudden shift of skin to thick, silver fur. It was damp and matted, but there was no mistaking it for anything other than fur. 

Lucius wrapped his arms tightly around his middle as if in a hug, and you watched in horror and awe as he dug his nails into his skin and pulled. The air was still, utterly silent except for your own pounding heart and the faint sound of Lucius groaning, but it was easy to imagine the wet sound of skin tearing, followed by a dull, sickening squish as pieces of flesh hit the grass. The skin still on his body was stripped to ribbons as Lucius continued to claw it away to reveal blood-soaked fur. His muscles rippled and his bones stretched, his feet morphing into paws as his metacarpals elongated. His hands flexed again and you could see sharp claws piercing through his fingernails like a can opener, sharp and bloody.

Because of the way he was curled over, you didn’t see his face until his head tossed back and you were able to see his sharp, new teeth pushing out his human ones. You had to look away as bloody teeth littered the ground, a wave of nausea making you feel faint. You didn’t realize how hard you were gripping Geta’s hand until you felt your muscles cramp and you were forced to release it. 

“We should—“

“No,” you interrupted hoarsely. You lifted your head again, right as Lucius’ new snout ruptured the cartilage of his aquiline nose. Lucius brought his claws to his face and ripped away the visage of your friend entirely, revealing the wolf inside.

Lucius shook the final dregs of his human form off his fur, and you took in the majesty of the wolf. The blood and flesh had dripped away, letting the fur fluff up, the silver still stained red. Lucius remained bipedal, his hind legs thick and powerful enough to hold up his massive form. His ears perked up, facing forward before turning like a satellite dish as he took in his surroundings, and his tongue brushed over his bloody maw to clean it. He was magnificent. He was terrifying. 

He was… cute?

Lucius went down on all fours and stretched. A fluffy tail you hadn’t noticed stretched out with him, a charming extension of his spine that started to wag when he stood up straight again. You stiffened as he turned towards you. Even in the darkness, you could see his blue eyes were still the same, bright and curious as he met your gaze. Just as he looked like he was about to move towards the window, his head whipped to the side. 

Another mass of fur emerged from the woods, and then you saw Ravi. He was the same size as Lucius, though his fur was a reddish-brown that absorbed the light instead of reflecting it. Lucius and Ravi circled each other, both of their tails wagging happily. 

Your nausea quickly abated. “Oh my God?” you breathed softly. “They’re so—“

“Don’t say they’re cute,” Geta sneered, leaning back in his chair. “Not after what we just saw.”

“They’re big puppies, Geta,” you said, pouting. 

“They are uniquely-designed killing machines capable of tearing you asunder,” he said flatly. “They are not puppies. You just watched Lucius tear through his own skin.” 

“You’re no fun,” you muttered. “I’m trying to lighten the mood a little.” You sighed as you watched Lucius and Ravi scamper off into the woods together, then turned to face your boyfriend. “Well? What did you think?”

“That was awful,” he said.

“I know, but it was also kinda cool, don’t you think?”

“(Y/N), that was disgusting,” Geta groaned. “I can’t believe he lives like that every month.”

“Multiple nights a month, no less,” you tutted.

“You’re being awfully flippant about this.”

“I’m not, I’m freaking out a little,” you admitted. “…A lottle, actually.”

“A lottle?” Geta repeated with a hint of amusement.

“Like a little but a lot. A lottle.”

“Uh-huh,” he drawled. “Truly an innovation of the English language.” 

You felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and you faced the yard again. It was empty, but you got the feeling you were being watched. “We should go to the living room,” you suggested nervously. 

“Not too keen on watching your friends ‘wolf out’ anymore?” 

“Not really.” 

Geta stood up and urged you to your feet, wrapping his arm around your waist. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “You don’t need to be scared.”

“Geta, all you’ve done tonight is tell me how scared I should be.”

He smiled wryly. “I know, but it’s too late for that now. We’ve already seen it. There’s no point in continuing to be scared. What are they going to do? Walk towards the window menacingly?”

You looked at the window again and jumped, letting out a little scream as you took in the sight of Lucius standing close enough that you could see his breath fog up the glass. 

“That’s just unnecessary,” Geta mumbled. 

Lucius tapped his claws against the glass. He jerked his head to the side, as if to say, “C’mere.”

You shook your head rapidly.

Lucius nodded his big, furry head.

“He can’t be serious,” you croaked. 

“He looks serious,” Geta said.

“How can a wolf look serious?”

“No, you’re right, he looks rather silly, but he seems like he means it.” 

Lucius tapped the glass again and repeated the head-jerking motion. 

“No,” you said, loud enough so he could hear. 

Lucius shifted his gaze to Geta, and Geta sighed.

“Can you hear him?” you asked.

“Yes,” Geta said.

“What’s he saying?”

“He’s saying he wants you to go outside.” 

“Why?” you whined. 

Geta was quiet for a moment. “I’m not saying that,” he deadpanned.

Lucius huffed, fogging up the glass again. 

Geta sighed again. “He says that he’ll let you… pet him.” 

A delighted laugh left you, softening the fear in your stomach. ”Really?”

“I would advise against it.”

“Oh, but it’s Lucius,” you said. “Like, it’s really him.” 

“Unfortunately.” 

You went to the door and stepped into the dark backyard. Lucius stayed where he was, which you were very thankful for. Without a barrier between you, he was even more intimidating, and you felt that twinge of fear grow stronger— but then he sat. It was awkward, his hind limbs longer than a normal wolf’s, but he ended up sort of criss-cross applesauce, his tail thumping against the ground as you approached. Even though he was sitting, he was still huge, his muzzle hitting just about chest height for you. 

“Can you, um… can you talk?” you croaked.

Lucius shook his head. As if to prove his point, he snapped his jaws and made a little whining sound.

You stepped closer and marveled at how fucking bizarre your life was. As Lucius bent his head so you could scritch between his ears, you wondered what exactly in your life had led up to this moment. 

He was really soft— softer than he had any right to be for a creature that you watched tear your friend’s skin apart. “Why are you letting me do this?” you asked. “Why did you ask for it?”

“He thinks it’s funny,” Geta said from behind you. You hadn’t realized he joined you outside. “And he likes you.” 

“Why?” you repeated with a laugh. 

Lucius shrugged his broad shoulders. Then, he pushed his nose into your hand, and you scratched under his chin. 

“This is so fucking weird,” you whispered affectionately. You gave his head a final pat and shrank back as Lucius once again rose to his full height. His tail was still wagging in a friendly way, so it was hard to truly be afraid, but God was your body making an effort. Even though you knew it was your friend, your brain screamed at you to run. “N-Now what?” you asked.

“He’s hungry,” Geta said.

Again, that cold hand of fear clenched around your heart and churned your stomach. “Hungry?” you echoed.

“He says not to worry,” Geta informed you. “Quote, Ravi’s hunting a deer as we speak, unquote.”

“Great,” you croaked. “I’m so happy for you.” 

Lucius let out a huff that may have been a laugh. 

“He’s asking if you want to see something cool,” Geta sighed.

“You know I do, Lucius.”

Lucius held up a claw to indicate you should wait. Then, he backed up and eyed the roof of his cabin. Lucius tensed, and then he was springing up onto the roof in a single leap.

“Whoa!” you gasped. “That was cool!”

Lucius landed back in front of you and did a little bow. 

“He says we can leave now,” Geta said. “Thank God.” When you glanced at him, he was scowling. “You can’t speak like that to me in my own head, Lucius.”

Lucius bared his teeth a little, his lips curling in the semblance of a smile.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” you asked.

Lucius held up his clawed hand in a thumbs-up. 

“He says he’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you said dubiously. “Well, um. Tell Ravi I said bye.”

Another nod of his huge head, and then he turned tail and bounded back into the woods.

Geta took your hand and pulled you back towards the cabin. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he said.