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Chapter Text

Boredom in District 12 was like the coal dust that seemed to make up the place, everywhere, inescapable, settling into your skin and staying there no matter how hard you tried to scrub it off. It was just another thing the district did best, right alongside poverty and perpetual hunger. On off-duty days there was usually nothing to do but wait for nightfall, when Coriolanus usually found himself at the Hob with the others, drinking bootleg liquor that reeked of engine fuel and burned like hell going down. It wasn’t about enjoyment, it was about sedation. Numbness. A brief reprieve from the crushing grayness of it all, but now, it was barely 0900, still far too early to justify crawling into a bottle. He’d tried to sleep in. Tried to let the weight of the paper thin mattress pull him down into something dreamless and heavy. But the barracks had a way of punishing anyone who dared to want peace. No matter how late he stayed up the night before, someone always decided to get up before the sun and stomp around like they were the only person alive.

Today, that someone was Sejanus.

Of course it was Sejanus.

He was always up early, like it gave him some kind of moral high ground. But today was worse than usual, he was up before the streetlamps had even shut off. Coriolanus cracked one eye open long enough to catch him moving through the dim space, shoulders hunched and deliberate, carrying his uniform, and shower kit they were given when they arrived here that contained a bar of cheap soap, that cheap, plastic toothbrush, and a small tube of toothpaste. He was trying to be quiet. That much was clear. But even at his best, Sejanus couldn’t hide the sound of that limp. That slow, dragging step that never quite matched the other.

Coriolanus closed his eyes again, jaw tight. Maybe it was the leg that woke Sejanus. Maybe the pain had been gnawing at him all night, keeping him just conscious enough to need the distraction of routine. The thought slipped in, uninvited. Coriolanus hated that it stuck. He tried to bite back his concern before it could turn into pity. 

He groaned quietly as he flung an arm over his face and pressed his pillow tighter, but it was pointless now. He was awake, and his mind was already spiraling, an endless grind of calculation and resentment, shifting through thoughts too fast to catch and hold onto any of them. Sleep wouldn’t be coming back. Half an hour passed in silence, broken only by the hum of the old pipes and the occasional creak of the bunk above. The morning light had begun to bleed through the slats, pale and cold. Then the door opened again with a hiss of metal. Sejanus stepped back into the room, towel draped around his neck, hair still damp. There was a stiffness to his movements, but he didn’t say anything, just started dressing slowly, carefully, like he didn’t want to draw attention. Coriolanus watched him through barely-cracked eyelids, resentment and something else twisting low in his chest. It wasn’t the limp that bothered him. Not really. It was the fact that Sejanus still tried. That he still believed in something, anything, despite everything this place had done to him. To both of them. 

Those feelings never lasted long.

Already, his mind was shifting gears, clicking back into motion like clockwork. The edge of his resentment dulled under the soft, creeping weight of guilt, the kind that didn’t scream, just settled in his chest like a bruise. He knew why he’d felt that way. It was early. He was tired. Everything felt worse before 0700. But still.

Sejanus had followed him here. Had walked away from wealth, safety, and his family name, for him. He’d chosen this gray wasteland of a district, this life, out of some misguided loyalty. And Coriolanus had the gall to lie there and stew in silent resentment just because the man woke up a little too early?

It wasn’t Sejanus’s fault the war had turned Coriolanus into a light sleeper.

He sighed sharply through his nose, the sound somewhere between exasperation and self-disgust, then groaned as he forced himself upright. His joints protested the movement, stiff from another restless night on a mattress that was more a slab of compressed fabric than any real bedding. He stretched, arms reaching overhead until his shoulders cracked and popped like breaking twigs, trying to work the tension out of his back and neck. A hot shower would help. Or at least, it would pretend to.

He stood, tugging on the bottom of his shirt where it had ridden up as he slept, before glancing toward Sejanus. The man was sitting on the edge of his bunk now, toweling off his hair, clearly something more of habit than anything else, as there wasn’t much hair for either of them to dry anymore. He was still saying nothing. Maybe he could feel it, the guilt, the silence, the distance Coriolanus kept putting between them like it was armor. Coriolanus gave him a brief, tight smile. Not forced, exactly, just worn thin at the edges. He added a small nod, something like an apology, then turned away before either of them could pretend to read into it. He gathered his uniform and shower kit with practiced hands, each motion efficient, automatic. Then, without another word, he made his way toward the shower block, the concrete floor cold beneath his bare feet.

The shower block was dim, lit by a flickering overhead bulb that buzzed like an angry wasp caught behind glass. The tiles were cracked, yellowing with age and water damage, the air thick with mildew and steam. Coriolanus stepped inside and let the door scrape closed behind him, the hinges groaning in protest.

He moved without thought, uniform folded neatly on the bench, boots tucked under the pipes. The shower knobs let out a metallic groan as he turned them, and the spray hit him in a sharp burst of cold that made him flinch. The pipes clanked in the walls like something alive was crawling through them. But then, thankfully, warmth.

Slowly, it eased its way through the rust-choked plumbing, and the water turned tolerable. Almost pleasant. He braced both hands on the wall, head bowed, letting the stream pour over his shoulders, the back of his neck, his back. The heat sank into the tight knots of his muscles and made them loosen just slightly, like old rope giving under strain. Steam rose around him, curling over his arms and chest, beading on his skin like sweat that refused to fall. Still, his mind didn’t quiet.

The irritation he’d felt earlier was already beginning to rot into something softer, something duller and more dangerous, guilt. A slow, nauseating ache behind his ribs.

It wasn’t fair, he knew. Not to Sejanus. The man had followed him here, abandoning a gilded life in the Capitol without so much as a backward glance. Left behind his father’s fortune, his title, his future. All for some tattered version of loyalty Coriolanus wasn’t sure he even deserved, and now here he was, angry over being woken up early. It wasn’t Sejanus’s fault the war had chewed Coriolanus up and spit out a creature who startled at every footstep, who slept with one eye open, who flinched at the drag of boots on concrete.

But it was easier to be annoyed. Anger had edges, anger had purpose, he could direct it into something, into training, into something bigger, the guilt just sank, and brought him down with it.

He pressed his forehead to the wall. The tile was cold against his skin. The warmth from the water couldn’t reach the parts of him that mattered. Couldn’t touch the places where the bitterness lived.

Sejanus still tried. That was the problem. He still woke up early. Still greeted people with a smile, Peacekeepers and citizens alike. Still looked at this broken, hollow place and saw the possibility of something better. Coriolanus on the other hand didn’t see anything anymore. Just rust and concrete and the hollow sound of his own thoughts. Sejanus had always believed in something. Justice. Reform. Mercy. And Coriolanus? He was starting to realize that he didn’t believe in anything. Not the Capitol. Not the rebellion. Not even himself. All he had left was instinct, cold, sharp, survival-driven instinct. A life held together by reflex and habit and the fear of what would happen if he ever stopped moving forward. Sejanus was a mirror he didn’t want to look into. A reminder of who he used to pretend to be. Who he might have been, once.

He drew in a breath, steam thick in his lungs, and let it out through gritted teeth.

He should feel grateful. Should feel warmth, affection, something like brotherhood. But all he could summon was that same tangled knot of resentment and shame, twisting tighter every time Sejanus looked at him like he still saw something worth following. The water began to cool again, dropping a few degrees too fast. He reached blindly for the knobs and shut it off, the silence that followed almost too loud. Drops of water clung to his skin, trailing down his spine in slow, ticklish streams. His breath fogged in front of him as he stood there, dripping, arms limp at his sides.

He dried off in brisk, practiced movements, the towel barely doing its job—too thin, too worn, just like everything else in this place. He tossed it over his shoulders and pulled on his underwear, then his uniform layer by layer, the fabric stiff from too many washings in too little water. The jacket tugged at his shoulders as he shrugged it into place.

When he stepped back into the bunkroom, the air was different, no longer silent, but heavy with the quiet shuffle of half-woken bodies. Most of the others were up now, the place had come to life in that groggy, half-aware way mornings always did. Bunkmates moved like sleepwalkers through narrow aisles, dragging themselves out of their beds like the dead rising for another round, rubbing their eyes, tugging on shirts, murmuring greetings or curses under their breath. The scent of musty linens, unwashed bodies, and military-issue soap hung faintly in the air.  Someone yawned loud enough to echo. Another coughed, long and dry.

Everyone looked exhausted. Except Sejanus.

He was sitting on his bunk, propped against the cold wall, a thin blanket wrapped loosely around his legs. A book rested in his hands, its cover faded and edges curled with age. He must’ve brought it with him, tucked away among the few personal items he hadn’t left behind in the Capitol.

Coriolanus slowed, his eyes drawn to the quiet rhythm of Sejanus’s reading, the steady movement of his eyes across the page. He looked... absorbed. Content, even. Like the world outside the page didn’t exist. His brow was relaxed, his breathing calm, his fingers curled gently around the spine as though afraid to damage the worn paper. There was something almost holy about the stillness in him. Like he’d managed to carve out a quiet world where nothing could touch him, not the barracks, not the district, not training, not even Coriolanus himself.

Coriolanus felt something tighten in his chest. God, how he missed that.

The ability to lose himself in a book, to be pulled under by story and language, to fall so deeply into fiction that the real world slipped away. He used to read like that. Used to care about the shape of words, the sound of them. Now it all felt distant. Faded. Now words just seemed to float past him, meaningless. 

He sat on the edge of his own bunk, the mattress groaning under his weight, hands resting on his thighs. He let out a quiet breath and watched Sejanus for another moment, watching the calm on his face, the small crease between his brows, the way his fingers gently held the worn spine of the book like it was fragile.

He didn’t want to interrupt. Not now. Not when he looked so at peace. 

So, instead of doing anything at all, Coriolanus slumped back onto his bunk, letting gravity take him. He threw an arm over his eyes to block out the pale sunlight filtering through the cracked, smog-coated windows. One leg crossed lazily over the other. The dull murmur of the barracks carried on around him, rustling fabric, yawns, boots scuffing against the floor, idle chatter, but he tried to drown it out, pretending that stillness could pass for sleep. He knew it wouldn’t last. The peace, It never did.

From beneath his arm, he caught a flicker of movement, Sejanus, shifting. The soft rustle of paper, the sound of fabric brushing against concrete. Coriolanus peeked from beneath his arm just in time to see Sejanus set the book aside. He stretched his arms overhead, back arching with a quiet sigh before rolling his neck until it cracked. Then he stood, carrying the book with him to the foot of his bunk. Coriolanus watched him, eyes half-lidded, pretending he wasn’t paying attention even as his gaze tracked every step intently, purposefully, as if trying to make sense of his sudden movement. 

Sejanus knelt beside his trunk, unfastened the latch, and placed the book carefully inside. His hands hovered for a second, searching, maybe, and then withdrew something small, metallic. Dog tags. He turned them over in his fingers, fidgeting. The metal glinted faintly in the morning light as it swung in slow arcs between his hands. Then Sejanus spoke, softly. A murmur meant for no one but himself. Coriolanus blinked, caught off guard by the sound.

“What did you say, Sejanus?” he asked, voice low and curious, almost automatic, more impulse than intention. He hadn’t meant to be eavesdropping. But now he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly Sejanus was turning over in both his hands and his mind.

Sejanus startled slightly, then let out a quiet laugh, rough, unpolished, it hadn’t been used all day, clearly. Neither of them had spoken, even though their bunkmates around them had already started chattering off like jabberjays.

“Oh! Sorry,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I was just talking to myself… wondering what was the point of them giving us extra dog tags.” Sejanus turned the dog tags over again in his hands, the metal catching the light in soft, cold flashes. He looked down at them, frowning faintly, as if trying to puzzle out some hidden meaning in the etched letters of his own name.

“I mean… we wear these all the time,” he said, more to himself than to Coriolanus. “When we sleep, when we shower.. hell, we’re barely allowed to take them off at all. So what’s the point of giving us extras? It’s not like we can lose them. Not really.”

Coriolanus didn’t respond right away.

He just lay there, arm draped over his eyes, listening to the soft jingle of metal slipping between Sejanus’s fingers—the faint, repetitive clink of dog tags being turned over and over like worry beads. Across the barracks, someone sneezed. A bunk creaked. The morning air still held that dusty, iron-tinged chill it always had—some mix of industrial grime and recycled heat that clung to everything like ash.

And still, Sejanus waited for an answer. Like there had to be some kind of reason. Some sensible explanation for something so obviously bleak.

Typical.

Coriolanus sighed and pushed himself upright with a groan, dragging a hand down his face. The mattress springs squealed beneath him as he swung his legs over the edge of the bunk, boots thudding softly against the floor. He blinked once, twice, adjusting to the washed-out light filtering through the cracked, grime-streaked windows.

Sejanus was still kneeling by his trunk, his brows drawn in that faintly puzzled expression he always got when the world didn’t behave the way he expected it to. Like something as simple as extra dog tags might have an answer that didn’t involve death.

Coriolanus leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“They give us extras,” he said finally, voice dry as old paper, “in case we get blown into too many pieces to find the first one.” He let the words land with the weight they deserved. Didn’t soften them. Didn’t look away. Then, after a beat, he added,  “Keeps the paperwork neat.”

Sejanus blinked. The tags are still in his hands. His mouth opened slightly, like he was about to say something, but nothing came out.

Coriolanus smirked faintly, but there was no joy in it. Just that familiar edge of bitterness worn smooth from overuse. 

“Think about it,” he went on, casually adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. “You step on the wrong patch of earth, or someone with better aim gets lucky, and suddenly there’s not enough of you left to recognize. Maybe they will find a boot or something..”

He glanced over, and met Sejanus’s eyes. “Then when they figure out who the boot used to belong to. Job’s done. Box gets a name, and they can bury a metal tag with your name on it since there’s nothing left of you to bury.”

He leaned back slightly, bracing one hand behind him on the bunk.

“It’s not about us, Sejanus. It never is.” A pause. Then, with a small, humorless chuckle “We’re just inventory with serial numbers.” This sentence carried the same hopeless pain that his entire demeanor carried since he’d arrived here, no joy, no joke, just hopeless, dark pain that he couldn’t shake. The silence that followed was different now. Not just awkward, but weighty, like something had shifted between them.

Sejanus didn’t move. He just sat there with the tag resting in his palm, the chain coiled loosely around his fingers, his expression unreadable. He looked less like someone horrified and more like someone trying not to be.

Coriolanus could feel it, that quiet struggle playing out behind his eyes. The way Sejanus always tried to hold onto some sliver of dignity, of meaning, even when everything around them screamed otherwise. He looked away. His smirk faded, leaving only the hard line of his jaw. The moment settled in his chest like a stone. Maybe he’d gone too far. Maybe not. Did it really matter? 

The truth was still the truth.

Sejanus faltered, blinking in stunned silence, before letting out a breathy, disbelieving chuckle. His eyes were wide with that same expression he always wore when something was just a little too absurd to process fully.

“Oookay…” he drawled, running a hand through his hair. “Gotcha. Well, someone’s clearly having a great morning, huh? You could’ve just said ‘paperwork reasons’ and left it there. Jesus Christ, Coriolanus.”

He laughed again, this time a little harder, more out of sheer disbelief than amusement. The kind of laugh that had too much tension coiled inside it. Like he was trying to find the joke in something that wasn’t funny at all. Coriolanus stared at him, brows knitting together. His mouth opened slightly as if to speak, but nothing came out at first. Then his face shifted, twisted into a look of confused disbelief.

“No, I’m… I’m serious.” The words came out quieter than he meant. He felt his voice waver, just a fraction, but enough that he heard it himself. He hadn’t expected Sejanus to laugh, and now that he had… Coriolanus wasn’t entirely sure he believed what he’d said either.

The explanation had always felt true. Cold, clinical, logical. But something about Sejanus brushing it off with a chuckle, that loose whatever shrug in his voice, had knocked something loose inside him. Left a crack.

Sejanus was still standing there, holding the extra tag in his palm, letting the chain dangle between his fingers. “Oh, I’m sure you’re serious,” he said with a snort, still grinning as he looked down at the tag. “I’m not doubting that for a second. This whole place is completely fucked.”

He shifted his weight, moving carefully as he stood, wincing just slightly as he stretched out his injured leg. His hand instinctively went to his thigh for a second, massaging the stiff muscle through the fabric of his uniform. His grin had already faded, replaced by that familiar faraway look, the one that always made Coriolanus wonder what Sejanus was thinking, and how deep down it really went.

“That was just… a crazy detailed explanation that I definitely didn’t need before breakfast,” he added with a dry laugh. He gave the tag one last look before closing his fingers around it and moving toward Coriolanus’s bunk.

He sat down beside him without a word.

Not too close, never quite close enough to touch, but close enough that Coriolanus could feel the shift in the mattress, the faint warmth of his presence. That unspoken kind of proximity that didn’t need to be justified. Not between them. They sat there in the soft, uneven light of the morning, the buzz of the barracks dimming around them, distant somehow. Coriolanus glanced at him from the corner of his eye. Sejanus didn’t look at him. Just kept turning the tag over in his hand, slowly, absently, like he was trying to make sense of something that never would.

After a long, drawn-out silence, stretching somewhere between thoughtful and aimless, it wasn’t uncomfortable, thankfully for the both of them. The barracks were bustling around them, but here, on the edge of the bunk, the world had shrunk to just the two of them and the slow, lazy ticking of time neither of them really wanted to spend. Then, without looking up from the tag in his hand, Sejanus spoke again. His voice was soft, barely audible over the background noise.

“Do you have yours? The extra ones?”

Coriolanus turned his head toward him fully this time, brows pulling together, confusion flickering across his face, but not the same confusion from before. This wasn’t about Sejanus laughing off his cynicism. This was something else entirely.

“Yeah… of course I do?” he replied slowly, blinking. “Why?”

His hand instinctively brushed his chest, fingertips grazing the spot beneath his collar where his main dog tag always rested, cool against his skin, barely noticeable anymore. He felt the weight of it now, though. Like the question had suddenly made it heavier. “I keep the spare in my trunk too, just like you do with yours.”

Sejanus didn’t answer right away. He just held up his spare tag again, letting it swing gently between his fingers. The motion was almost hypnotic, back and forth, back and forth, the light catching on the engraved letters in flashes.

“I don’t know,” he said finally, almost like he was embarrassed to admit it. “I guess I was just wondering if we all got them. Or if it was some kind of mistake. I didn’t notice it until today.”

He turned his head slightly, eyes flicking toward Coriolanus with that same distant, unfocused look he always got when he was thinking about something he didn’t want to say out loud.

“Feels weird. Holding it.” He rotated it in his palm. “Like it’s already waiting for something to happen. Now that you said what you said I guess..” he mumbled carefully, as if too deep into his own mind.

When Sejanus spoke again it was quick, rushed, the words coming out fast and blurted, like they’d just slipped past his filter. Like he was trying to drag himself out of a spiral before he went too far down.

“We should trade them.”

Coriolanus blinked, turning to look at him sharply. “Trade what?”

Sejanus held up the spare dog tag, the metal catching the morning light as it swayed slightly in his hand. “These,” he said, like it was obvious. “Our extra tags.”

Coriolanus’s confusion deepened into something closer to alarm. He sat up straighter, brows furrowed. “What? Sejanus… I don’t even think that’s allowed. And why the hell would I want to wear your tag?”

Sejanus shrugged, but it wasn’t careless. There was tension in his shoulders now, the kind of defensive posture he took on when he knew he sounded ridiculous but couldn’t stop himself. “Who’s going to notice?” he said, quieter this time, but still firm. “It’s not like we check each other’s necks every morning. And anyway… it’s not about the rules.” He glanced down at the tag in his hand, then back to Coriolanus.

“We’re out there together, every day. If something goes wrong, if one of us doesn’t come back,” he paused and swallowed hard before continuing “the other should be the one who knows. Not some medic, not some officer flipping through a clipboard. Us.”

Coriolanus stared at him. The idea sat awkwardly in his chest, like a stone that wouldn’t quite settle. It wasn’t just irrational, it was emotional, it was completely unlike him.. And yet somehow that made it harder to dismiss.

“It’s just a piece of metal, Sejanus” he said flatly, but there was no real bite behind it.

Sejanus looked at him, quiet, steady. “Exactly, and if I’m gone… I’d rather you have it than some box six feet under.” He didn’t smile. Didn’t push. Just held out the tag, his tag, dangling from his fingers between them. It swayed gently in the space between their bunks, light catching on the engraving.

Coriolanus looked at it. Then at Sejanus. And for a second, he didn’t say anything at all.

Sejanus gave a lopsided grin, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes but tried its best. The dog tag swung gently from his fingers, the chain catching threads of pale light from the window like a fishing line cast out between them.

“Come on, Coriolanus,” he said softly, nudging the silence. “You’re my battle buddy. Just think of it as-” he hesitated for a beat, then chuckled under his breath “-friendship bracelets. You know? Friendship dog tags?” It was stupid. Sentimental. A little bit absurd.

And it was so Sejanus that it made Coriolanus want to laugh and wince at the same time.

He let out a sound, something between a scoff and a sigh, almost amused but coated in disbelief. His head tilted as he turned toward Sejanus fully now, brows furrowed, eyes narrowing like he was trying to decide if this was a joke or if the man had just completely lost it.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he said, voice low and rough around the edges, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was resisting the pull of a smile.

He rubbed a hand across his face, fingers dragging through his buzzed, prickly hair as if the motion might shake off the surrealness of it all. When he spoke again, his tone was still dry, but softer, less cutting. “Friendship bracelet dog tags?” he repeated, the phrase foreign and ridiculous on his tongue. “This is peacekeeping, Sejanus. Not elementary school.”

But as the words left him, something in his chest twisted, not sharp, but deep. A slow, curling ache that crept up before he could brace for it. Because saying it out loud made it real. And suddenly, he wasn’t thinking about spare dog tags anymore. He was thinking about paper lunches and broken pencils, scraped knees and playground arguments over gumdrops that ended in laughter. About the simple kind of safety he hadn’t felt in years. When uniforms bore the school insignia, not their battalion insignia. Before training, before hangings, before riots.

“We aren’t eight anymore,” he said, quieter this time, no longer sarcastic, no longer mocking, but sentimental, nostalgic, grieving. The room felt smaller after that. The air felt a little bit heavier.

Sejanus didn’t respond right away. He didn’t need to. He just kept holding the tag between them, the chain looped over his knuckles, swaying slightly like a pendulum caught in the silence. And in that moment, he looked less like someone offering a joke, and more like someone offering something real. The expression he wore was something that Coriolanus could only describe as… a hopeful pout.

It was pathetic in the way small, fragile things were pathetic, not because they were weak, but because they didn’t know how exposed they really were. His eyes had taken on that soft, damp shine, not from tears exactly, but from something quieter, sadder, from hope. The corners of his mouth dipped down just enough to betray disappointment, but his eyebrows were lifted, almost pleading, like he was still daring to hope Coriolanus might say yes. It wasn’t a demand. It wasn’t even a full request. Just the look of someone who wanted something, simple and human, and didn’t know how else to ask for it except to offer it up with both hands and wait.

Pitiful, Coriolanus thought.

And yet, God, he made it look disarmingly sincere. And what made it worse was that it wasn’t an act. That was the thing about Sejanus. He didn’t know how to pretend. Everything he felt was always right there, just under the surface, naked and earnest and real. Coriolanus had no idea what to do with that. He’d lied, betrayed, manipulated without breaking a sweat. But somehow, this, this, this small, quiet, ridiculous offer of a dog tag and that pitiful pout? It unsettled him more than all of the pain he’d seen or caused in the past. 

Coriolanus stared at him for a long, silent moment, his expression frozen somewhere between disbelief and reluctant amusement. His brows were slightly lifted, lips parted like he was just about to argue again, but then something shifted behind his eyes, so subtle it could have gone unnoticed. A flicker of resignation. A sigh he hadn’t breathed yet. Then he groaned. Loudly. Theatrically.

“Fine,” he muttered, dragging the word out like it cost him something. His hand shot out and snatched the dog tag from Sejanus’s fingers in one fluid, annoyed motion. “Fine! Jesus Christ!! Will you stop that ridiculous pouting now?”

Sejanus blinked in surprise, lips already twitching into a grin, but Coriolanus didn’t give him the satisfaction of meeting his eyes. Instead, he examined the tag in his palm, tilting it slightly, letting the cold, etched metal catch the sunlight filtering through the dusty windowpanes as he read Sejanus’s name engraved into the cold metal of it, it felt almost foreign, seeing a different name and number in the same metal he saw daily. His thumb brushed lightly over the engraved letters of the name, as if committing them to memory.

Then, without ceremony, he unclipped the chain it had come on and dropped it unceremoniously onto his bunk. His fingers moved more carefully as he reached beneath the collar of his own uniform, tugging his own chain free from around his neck.

It was warm against his skin, a contrast from the coolness of Sejanus’s in his hand. His own tag, a flat, worn little rectangle of steel, hung there alone. Until now that is. He slid Sejanus’s tag onto it without a word. The two pieces of metal clicked softly together, a faint metallic chime, like a secret handshake only they could hear.

Coriolanus tucked the chain back beneath his collar, the tags settling against his chest like a weight he hadn’t realized he’d agreed to carry. He still didn’t look at Sejanus when he spoke again.

“Mine’s in my trunk,” he said, voice lower now, but not unfriendly. Just… tired, real, tense, as if trying to conceal feelings he thought he’d long since buried.  “Bottom right corner. Go on, go, if you’re going to be all sentimental about it all, might as well commit.”

There was a beat of silence, then the quiet creak of springs as Sejanus stood. No teasing, no smug grin this time. Just something soft in his expression, just something like gratitude. As Sejanus limped off toward Coriolanus’s trunk, the room seemed quieter than before. The hum of morning noise in the barracks faded to the edges.

Coriolanus leaned back against the wall, one arm resting lazily over his knee, eyes as always, tracing Sejanus’s movements as he moved across the room. He could feel the added weight of the second tag pressing against his chest through the fabric of his shirt. A small, cold reminder, sitting against his heart now, alongside his own tag. 

Sejanus limped back slowly, the weight in his hand unmistakable, a single dog tag, cold and smooth, catching the pale morning light as it swung from the chain. His face was softer now, carrying a quiet hope beneath the careful steadiness. He stopped beside Coriolanus’s bunk and held out the tag without a word, eyes flickering briefly to Coriolanus’s face, searching for a reaction.

Without hesitation, Sejanus unclasped the chain from around his own neck. With deliberate care, he threaded Coriolanus’s dog tag onto it, the metal clicking softly as it slid into place beside his own. The chain settled back against his skin, the weight of both tags resting heavy on his chest, an unspoken promise made visible. Sejanus glanced up then, offering a small, almost shy smile that spoke volumes despite the silence. Coriolanus met his gaze, a faint nod acknowledging the quiet bond forged between them.

The room remained still, the two dog tags hanging side by side, a simple, silent testament to friendship, loyalty, and something deeper that neither wanted to say aloud.

Or at least, that was what it was supposed to be about.

Chapter Text

The day unfolded with its usual cadence, the rhythm of rest day life settling over them like a familiar, threadbare cloak, worn but comforting. Yet beneath that routine, something shifted, a subtle undercurrent tightening the invisible tether between them. Coriolanus noticed it immediately, their usual side-by-side movements had drawn even closer, a quiet gravity pulling them together without either saying a word.

During morning exercises, Coriolanus kept pace with Sejanus as if synced by instinct. The steady slap of their boots on cracked concrete echoed in time, the faint rustle of their breath mingling in the cool morning air. When one faltered, the other slowed, offering a brief glance or nod, their silent way of saying I’ve got you. It wasn’t just a habit anymore, it was something more, something deeper. 

As they wandered through the bustling seam, as the afternoon drew nearer the chaos of vendors hawking cracked utensils and greasy food stalls faded around them. The sunlight filtered weakly through the thick haze, casting long, jagged shadows over uneven cobblestones. Side by side, they pointed out little details to each other, a stray kitten weaving between crates, the scent of frying oil heavy and bittersweet, the faded paint peeling off a rusted cart.

Their conversation flowed, a steady current threading between them, sometimes shallow, sometimes deep. They spoke of training, voices tight with frustration as they mocked the endless drills that left them aching and sore. They railed quietly against the Capitol’s cruelty, the hollow promises of peacekeeping that felt more like shackles. Morals surfaced and clashed, how similar they truly were, and where their paths diverged. Plans for university, wild dreams from what now felt like a different life drifted into the conversation, tangled with the practical worry of the officer test looming on the horizon. Coriolanus pressed Sejanus to take it, his voice firm but patient, knowing the other’s stubborn resistance ran deeper than simple fear.

But when the topic of relationships came near, the air thickened. Sejanus’s features tightened ever so slightly, the easy flow of words breaking into hesitant stutters. His eyes darted away, the warmth draining from his face like cold water. It was as if the mere idea made him shrink, retreat.

Coriolanus couldn’t understand it, couldn’t imagine why the subject unsettled him so deeply, but it always had, even back in the Capitol. Maybe the Capitol had taught Sejanus to bury feelings, to guard himself fiercely. But out here, in the dust and grit of District 12, the rules were clearly different.

He watched Sejanus now, truly seeing him. The way his muscles flexed beneath his cotton uniform shirt, broad, defined shoulders forged by hours of relentless training, the thick arms strong enough to carry burdens heavier than they let on. His hands, rough and steady, spoke of labor and care. The sharp line of his jaw held stubbornness and quiet strength. But it was those big, soft brown eyes that caught Coriolanus’s breath every time, deep pools of gentle vulnerability framed by thick lashes, eyes that could pull you in, hold you there if you let them.

And beneath all that was Sejanus’s true nature, earnest, loyal to a fault, stubborn, and sometimes painfully awkward but always real.

Coriolanus felt a complex ache in his chest, a strange mixture of admiration, protectiveness, and a longing he didn’t quite know how to name. It was like staring at a puzzle with missing pieces, a riddle he wasn’t sure he had the ability to solve just yet.

They had wandered deeper into the Seam than they usually did on rest days, letting their steps take them wherever conversation and curiosity pulled them. The streets here were uneven, cobbled with broken stone and packed dirt, the buildings hunched and weary from years of coal dust and hard living. Laundry hung like tired flags between crumbling brick tenements, and the faint metallic smell of smoke and soot clung to the air like a second skin.

But despite its ruin, the Seam breathed. It had a pulse, a rough vitality that the sterile barracks could never imitate. Kids darted between carts, bare feet slapping stone. A woman leaned out her window to shake a rug, while an old man sat on an overturned crate carving something from a block of wood with a dull knife.

Sejanus was mid-sentence, talking about some bread he’d bought earlier from a girl with flour on her nose, how she’d smiled like he wasn’t a Peacekeeper at all, when the call came.

“EVENING MESS! All Peacekeepers, report now!”

The voice tore through the street like a gunshot. It came from somewhere far behind them, sharp, official, and echoing off stone. A second later came the shrill, unmistakable blast of a whistle, high and jarring. The district folk paused instinctively, some lowering their heads, others casting quiet, sideways glances at the two uniformed young men standing in the middle of their street.

Sejanus flinched like he’d been caught doing something wrong. The smile that had lingered on his lips vanished, replaced by that familiar, uncomfortable tension he always carried when reminded who he was here. Not a boy from the Capitol. Not a friend in the street. A Peacekeeper.

Coriolanus sighed softly through his nose, eyes flicking toward the source of the noise though it was too far to see. The air shifted around them. The day, whatever it had been, was over.

He looked at Sejanus who mumbled. “That’s our cue.”

Coriolanus nodded stiffly, his expression pulled tight as he adjusted his cap, the gesture now more armor than habit. “Guess the bread girl’s not getting a goodbye.”

“She’ll survive,” Sejanus muttered, though his tone held little edge. It was simply the truth. Sentiment didn’t buy you time when orders were shouted.

Coriolanus nodded, before shrugging “Maybe she’ll be at the hob later?” He had a little smirk on his face, and Sejanus rolled his eyes at “Yeah, sure, maybe.” 

They turned together, retracing their steps as quickly as they dared, too fast, and it looked like panic. Too slow, and someone might notice.

The Seam faded behind them as they moved back toward the compound, the sounds of the district swallowed by the thud of their boots and the low murmur of their own silence. The sun was beginning to sink now, dipping low behind the rooftops, painting the coal-dusted sky in streaks of rust and blood-orange.

As they approached the barracks again, Coriolanus spoke without looking over. “If they serve that rehydrated potato mash again, I’m deserting.”

Sejanus let out a breath of laughter, dry and soft. “And where would you go?”

Coriolanus shrugged. “Anywhere with salt.”

Sejanus laughed again, more genuine and true this time “you’re crazy” 

The two of them left the Seam behind, their boots crunching over loose gravel and scattered debris as they made their way toward the mess hall. The evening air was cool, tinged with the faint smell of coal smoke and damp earth.

Coriolanus glanced sideways at Sejanus, who kept pace effortlessly despite the limp that still tugged at him. Their footsteps fell into a steady rhythm, a quiet companionability settling between them as they moved.

Up ahead, the dull glow of the mess hall’s flickering lights grew brighter, a beacon of routine and refuge. The low murmur of voices and the clang of trays being set down drifted toward them.

The mess hall was a squat, weathered building, its cracked windows fogged with years of coal dust and humidity sweat. Sejanus was the first to reach for the handle, holding the door open for Coriolanus with a soft “After you” 

As Coriolanus and Sejanus made their way through the heavy metal doors, the familiar clang echoed around the cramped space, a signal that rest was over, but at least it was time to eat.

Inside, rows of battered metal tables stretched under the dull hum of flickering fluorescent lights. The cold steel was scratched and dented from years of use, but somehow it still held a quiet resilience, like everything here, rough around the edges but steadfast.

The room smelled of hearty stew, slightly spiced bread, and something warm and familiar, comfort woven through the harshness. The air was thick but not unpleasant, a reminder of the few small mercies in this place.

Peacekeepers moved in a steady, practiced rhythm, trays clinking softly as they gathered their rations. The noise was low, a steady murmur of tired voices and occasional chuckles, a fragile soundtrack to the end of a long day.

Coriolanus and Sejanus slid into vacant spots at one of the metal tables near the far wall, the cold surface beneath their arms sending a brief shiver through them. Coriolanus sat first, setting his tray down carefully and glancing around out of habit. Sejanus followed, lowering himself onto the bench with only the slightest wince as his injured leg adjusted. The dog tags at their necks clinked faintly as they settled. Sejanus set down his tray, a generous bowl of steaming stew, thick with chunks of root vegetables and tender meat, alongside fresh bread still warm from the oven. Coriolanus’s tray held a similar meal, the smell promising just enough to quell hunger and ease the day’s sharp edges.

They ate slowly, savoring the simple warmth of the food, the softness of the bread as it soaked up the rich broth. It wasn’t much, but it was enough, a small island of normalcy in a sea of hardship.

Between bites, Coriolanus watched Sejanus, noticing how the other man seemed to find something almost peaceful in the routine, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his bowl. For a moment, the heavy weight of their lives felt a little lighter, shared in this small, quiet sanctuary.

For a moment, it was quiet. Routine. A rare, unbothered pocket in the middle of a day that had already been filled with unexpected emotions and too many questions.

Then the silence fractured.

Bug appeared first, sliding into the bench directly across from them with his usual lopsided grin, one hand already tearing a chunk from his bread roll. Smiley was next, far less subtle, he dropped into the seat beside Bug with a loud huff, setting his tray down with a clatter and dramatically flexing his shoulders like he’d just returned from war, but the grin on his face, that smirk meant trouble, and Coriolanus knew it.

Then came the rest, an odd assortment of their fellow bunkmates, each arriving with barely a glance or word, like they were just falling into place. They filled the empty seats on either side and across the table, creating a haphazard circle around Coriolanus and Sejanus before either of them could even react.

There were still plenty of open tables. Quiet corners. Empty benches that weren’t under flickering lights or wedged into the drafty back end of the mess. And yet, they’d chosen this one spot. As if drawn to the center of something. Drawn to them like moths to a flame.

Coriolanus felt it like a pressure shift in the air. The tension. The heat of eyes lingering a little too long. He hated this kind of attention, he always had, but Sejanus didn’t seem to notice that anything was amiss, just smiling and nodding in greeting before ducking back into his meal like nothing had changed.  His body language was loose and open like. It didn’t even seem to register that they’d been closed in, boxed on all sides like pieces in someone else’s game. Coriolanus envied that ease. Or maybe resented it, just a little. He himself tried to ignore the sudden tension in his chest, tried to tuck back into his own meal, but that’s when Smiley’s gaze dropped, and Coriolanus’s entire body tensed once again

It was clear Smiley had caught the dull glint of metal on Coriolanus’s chest. Not one tag, but two, one sitting slightly askew beneath the other, one with edges softened by wear, one brand new and perfect, Not identical. Not his.

Sejanus’s. 

Smiley’s smirk turned razor-sharp. “Hold on, Gent,” he said, pointing with his spoon. “That’s not your tag.”

Coriolanus didn’t answer, simply continued eating with deliberate calm, not even bothering to look up, trying to mask his rising anxiety at the blatant attention. 

Bug leaned forward, squinting. “Wait. Wait.. no way. That’s Sejanus’s?” A beat passed. He let out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s… something else boys.. I didn’t know you guys were official like that” He then leaned over to eye Sejanus’s neck, who had since looked up at the mention of his name, noticing Coriolanus’s spare tag around his neck as well. 

“Official?? huh?? What do you mean?” Sejanus asked quickly, almost clipped, giving Coriolanus, and then Bug, a look of confusion. 

“Oh.. do you boys not know? Looks like you roped yourselves into a tag trade…” he chuckled slightly, before mumbling “Smiley, tell ‘em.” 

Smiley’s grin widened, nodding in unrestrained joy, before letting his voice drop half an octave, pitched just enough for everyone at the table to hear. “You know what they say in District Twelve, right?”

Coriolanus finally raised an eyebrow, lips tight. “I sure don’t, enlighten me.”

“You wear a soldier’s tag…” Smiley leaned in like he was telling a secret. “You ride the soldier.”

The reaction was immediate. Bug burst into laughter, half-choked on his bread, while one of the others hooted, slapping the table for emphasis. Even the guys further down the row leaned in, caught by the baited hook of the moment.

Sejanus flushed immediately, almost spitting out his stew in his panic to swallow it. His head snapped down toward his tray like he could sink into it. “Oh, come on! it’s not-”

Smiley didn’t miss a beat. “Don’t deny it, Bullseye! You handed it over all soft-eyed and sentimental, didn’t you?” He fluttered his eyelashes mockingly. “Like, ‘take this, so a part of me’s always with you’-”

“Jesus Christ,” Sejanus muttered under his breath, covering his face with one hand. “Shut your mouth Smiley-”

Bug, wiping tears from his eyes, leaned toward Coriolanus, barely holding it together. “So what’s it like, huh? Sharing rations and dog tags? What’s next? Bunks? Shower stalls?”

Coriolanus didn’t respond right away. He set his spoon down deliberately, then wiped the corner of his mouth with the worn sleeve of his uniform. Slowly, he lifted his eyes and leveled Smiley with a stare so cold it could have frozen the room if it weren’t already chilled by the evening air.

“Keep running your mouth,” he said smoothly, voice low and flat, “see where it gets you.”

For a moment, everything seemed to pause, as if someone had cut the audio in a film. Smiley blinked, his wide grin faltering just enough to reveal that he’d felt the hit. Bug let out a sharp, impressed “oooh” under his breath. A few of the others instinctively leaned back, sensing the shift in the atmosphere.

Sejanus, still half-hidden behind his hand, gave a breathless laugh, a sound that was part relief, part disbelief. “Please don’t start a fight over this.”

“Oh, I’m not fighting,” Coriolanus replied coolly, picking up his spoon again with practiced ease. “I’m just making sure they understand what they’re saying.”

Smiley chuckled, recovering his footing. “Alright, alright. We’re just teasing.” He nudged Sejanus with his elbow, smirking. “Still, cute though. You both trade tags, wear them out in public… it’s practically a proposal down here.”

“God,” Sejanus muttered, shaking his head, but there was a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I hate you all.”

“That’s fine, Bullseye,” Bug said cheerfully, mouth full of bread. “We love you enough to make up for it.”

Gradually, the noise softened, laughter drifting into casual chatter, the scrape of utensils against metal trays filling the space. Even as the table’s attention shifted, even as Sejanus caught his breath and the others slipped into their usual rhythm of complaining about the food or the weather, the dog tags remained where they were, glinting faintly under the harsh lights, shifting ever so slightly with their movements.

They didn’t touch them. They didn’t tuck them away. 

The silence between Coriolanus and Sejanus stretched long and taut, like a live wire between them vibrating with the tension of something unsaid and rapidly unravelling. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them dared to move. The hum of the mess hall, clinking trays, quiet talk, the scrape of chairs, blurred into background noise, muffled beneath the thudding weight of realization. Their eyes didn’t meet. They couldn’t.

The dog tags rested against their chests like quiet confessions, catching the fluorescent overhead lights with every subtle shift of movement. The kind of shine that drew attention. The kind of shine that apparently meant something, apparently more than either of them had known.

The silence was uncomfortable and tense between the two of them, that is, until Smiley broke it again, as if the pause had simply been a breath, something to rile them up more, to let them stew with their own thoughts before continuing to egg them on.

He leaned back, arms lazily crossed over his chest, and looked between the two of them with that maddening, crooked grin. The kind that said he already knew he was about to wreck someone’s day. “But no… seriously, boys, I’m not joking” he said, tilting his head with exaggerated innocence, his voice a shade quieter now, more intimate, but no less smug. “That’s what it means around here.”

He let it hang a moment, drawing out their discomfort like a cat toying with a dying mouse.

“I don’t know what they say in the Capitol, or over in District Two or wherever the hell you two fine gentlemen grew up, but here? In Twelve?”

He gestured lazily with his spoon, pointing between their chests, toward the tags now hanging side by side like some ironic badge of honor. “You wear a man’s dog tag out in public like that…” He gave a low whistle, almost impressed. “You’re not just saying you’re close. You’re saying you’re serious.”

Another pause. Then, voice dipped even lower, just loud enough for those at the table to hear

“At least sexually.”

The words dropped like a stone into still water, rippling across the table, across both of them.

Bug let out a half-choked laugh, nearly spilling his drink. One of the other guys at the end of the bench gave a quiet “shit” under his breath, unable to hide the grin curling at the corners of his mouth.

Sejanus, poor Sejanus, flushed crimson near instantly, worse than before, it crawled up from his collar and bloomed across his face, blotchy and visible even under the harsh flickering fluorescents. He ducked his head slightly, running a hand over the back of his neck like he could scrub the heat away.

His mouth opened then closed. He blinked rapidly, then managed, in a strangled whisper, “I… I didn’t know that.”

Coriolanus sat stiff and still, his expression carved from marble. His spoon hovered halfway to his mouth, forgotten. Eyes forward. Unblinking. Controlled, while inside his mind was utter chaos. His jaw was clenched tight. Tension wound around his spine like steel wire.

The dog tags swayed gently where they hung, as he shifted in slight discomfort, but he still made no move to remove them. They stayed against both of their chests, worn with intent, or so it looked to everyone around them, and boy were people looking. It seemed like everyone was looking now, and Coriolanus sat there, at least at first. He sat there, spine straight, eyes forward, expression carved into something dangerously unreadable. The low hum of the mess hall buzzed at the edges of his hearing, chairs scraping, utensils clinking, a few muttered jokes still rippling around their end of the table. But inside his mind, there was only static.

Smiley’s voice echoed again in his head, lazy and drawling. You wear a man’s dog tag, you’re saying you’re serious. At least sexually.

It echoed, and echoed, and echoed in his mind like a crime sentencing, like an accusation. 

His hand twitched slightly around his spoon, knuckles tight. The flickering overhead lights caught the polished surface of the dog tag at his chest again, throwing a sharp glint against his tray. He could feel it now, feel the way it pressed against his sternum like a brand.

Mocking him. Defining him. Making him into something he didn’t even know he was.

Silence from his own mouth suddenly felt like surrender. But anything he might’ve said sat lodged in his throat, brittle and bitter. And it was already too late. The damage was done. The laughter had passed. The teasing had landed.

He wasn’t going to fix the tension in this room or the odd, painful, confusing ache in his heart, the nausea and panic that rose in his throat like bile. 

So instead, he moved.

Slowly, deliberately, he lowered the spoon onto his tray with a soft clink. He wiped the corner of his mouth with his sleeve, though it was already clean. Straightened his back. Shifted his tray forward an inch. Everything about him looked calm, mechanical, like he’d just finished dinner and had somewhere else to be, but his hands were too still. Too precise. Too tense and his jaw… it was clenched so tight, the muscle along the side pulsed visibly beneath the skin. His pulse visibly fluttered just beneath his skin as well, a clear indication of his panic. 

Then, without a word, Coriolanus stood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sejanus’s head whipped toward him, the motion clearly startling him out of his own anxiety induced trance. “Coryo?”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t even glance at him. Didn’t so much as look at anyone at the table, not Bug, not Smiley, not the others who had gone quiet, their grins slipping just slightly as the air around the group cooled. He turned and walked.

Boots on concrete. Each step was sharp. Not rushed, but final. A kind of silence followed in his wake, heavier than the noise that had filled it seconds before. 

Bug gave a weak laugh, trying to lighten the air again. “I think he’s just, uh… tired?”

“Shit,” Smiley muttered, rubbing a hand over his mouth, the humor draining from his face like water down a cracked basin. “Didn’t think he’d-”

“You never think,” Sejanus snapped, more edge in his voice than usual. His hands had curled into fists in his lap without him realizing it. “My god-”

He stared after Coriolanus’s retreating back until he disappeared through the mess hall doors, the dim lights casting a hard outline around his frame, shoulders held stiff, dog tag glinting once more before vanishing into shadow. The table fell into a heavy hush. Even the food on Sejanus’s tray had gone cold by now. The tag on his own chest seemed heavier now, dragging against his skin like guilt. He truly hadn’t meant to cause something like this. He hadn’t known about that absolutely ridiculous custom. He had never meant to imply anything like that..

But then again.. Maybe somewhere in the back of his mind.. Maybe he had. He was still sitting here wearing Coriolanus’s dog tag after all, wasn’t he? Maybe he’d wanted Coriolanus close enough to forget he was supposed to keep a distance. Maybe he had always wanted just a little more than what they’d allowed themselves to talk about.

And now everyone else knew it before he could even admit it to himself thanks to Bug and Smiley. Or at least he thought they did. He sat back slightly, lips pressed into a thin line, trying to will the warmth in his face away. It was useless. The others were already drifting back into their conversations, but the space beside him stayed empty. Coriolanus’s absence was like a vacuum, sucking the energy out of him, palpable, inescapable.

Sejanus stared at the mess hall doors again, eyes dark and thoughtful. He wanted to follow. He wanted to chase after him.. He just didn’t know what he would say when he caught up. Would he apologize? Give him the dog tag back and laugh it all off as if it was some silly mistake? 

All he knew he didn’t want Coriolanus walking off thinking he was alone. Not when Sejanus had just proven, intentionally or not, that he was thinking of him in ways that went far beyond camaraderie. He could feel his breathing start to get heavier, his pulse start to race.

He barely heard Bug asking if he was okay. He didn’t respond.

He stood suddenly, the metal legs of his chair scraping back across the floor with a grating screech that made a few heads turn, but he didn’t care. His heart was beating too fast, too hard, louder than anything else in the room.

His tray remained half-full on the table. His dog tag still hung from his neck, and Coriolanus was gone. That was the one and only thing on his mind right now.

He slipped between the rows of metal tables, weaving through the crowd with purpose, eyes fixed ahead. The mess hall doors still swung slightly on their hinges from when Coriolanus had passed through minutes earlier, leaving only the echo of bootsteps and the weight of something unresolved.

The cold slapped Sejanus in the face the moment he stepped outside.

District 12’s evening air had a way of pressing into your skin, settling into your bones. Autumn was creeping in early, and the wind smelled like coal smoke and damp stone, sharp and familiar. The mess hall doors clanged shut behind him, muffling the sounds of trays and chatter inside.

He spotted Coriolanus immediately.

He was just beyond the edge of the building, standing alone near a row of rusted-out rail fencing that bordered the seam-facing perimeter. The last slant of daylight turned the edges of his silhouette gold, his shoulders tense, arms crossed, breath misting faintly in the cooling air.

Sejanus paused, watching him from a distance.

There was something about the way Coriolanus stood when he thought no one was watching, something unguarded in the set of his mouth, the looseness of his stance. Not relaxed, never that. But unmasked. Vulnerable in a way that twisted something in Sejanus’s gut.

The tags around his neck glinted. His tags. Still there. 

Sejanus swallowed hard and approached, gravel crunching softly beneath his boots. He came up beside him but didn’t speak right away, didn’t push. He just stood there, close enough for their sleeves to brush when the wind kicked up.

“You left your tray,” he murmured after a moment, voice soft. “Didn’t think the stew was that bad… for once” It was a poor attempt at a joke.. But an attempt nonetheless, an attempt to lighten the air around them that felt heavy and oppressive. 

Coriolanus didn’t look at him, but his jaw tightened, shifting slightly as he stared out across the darkening stretch of land beyond the fence. Smokestacks in the distance bled gray into the low sky. “I wasn’t hungry anymore.”

The words came flat, clipped. Not cruel, but armored.

Sejanus let out a slow breath and dropped his eyes to the ground, staring at the scuffed tips of his boots like they might offer him a way out.

“Look… I didn’t know about the dog tag thing. I really didn’t.” His voice wavered, tired, uncertain. He scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck, the chain of his tags jangling faintly with the movement. “I wasn’t trying to make a statement… I just..” He paused, then forced a shallow laugh that died almost instantly. “It didn’t mean anything. Okay? It didn’t.”

The lie hung in the air like gunpowder, thick, heavy, waiting for a spark.

Across from him, Coriolanus didn’t even flinch. He just stared, eyes catching what little light remained, cold, unreadable. But then… something shifted.

It was slight, barely a twitch in the corner of his mouth, a narrowing of his eyes, but enough to crack the thin veneer of composure. His features twisted into something pained and hollow, like he'd just been struck in the gut and was trying not to show it. The look carved something raw right out of Sejanus's chest.

“Right,” Coriolanus said after a long beat, his voice low and brittle. “Of course. It didn’t mean anything.”

He turned slightly, like he was going to walk, leave it, let it break, but Sejanus’s hand shot out before he could think. He caught the edge of Coriolanus’s sleeve, the fabric rough and cold under his fingers.

“Wait- no. That’s not-”

But the words tangled in his throat. He couldn’t finish. He didn’t have to. Didn’t have time to.

Because, Coriolanus turned back, fast, sharp, like a flint striking stone, and closed the distance between them in a heartbeat.

The kiss wasn’t gentle.

It was rushed, desperate, all heat and instinct. Sejanus let out a surprised sound that was swallowed between them as Coriolanus’s mouth found his. Sejanus’s dry lips, parted in disbelief, crashing together like they'd been waiting too long for this moment. Too many nights bunked side by side. Too many near-confessions. Too much silence.

The contact sent a jolt through Sejanus’s entire body.

Coriolanus’s hands were suddenly fisted in the front of his jacket, pulling him closer with a kind of reckless need that made Sejanus stumble a half step forward. His own hands, unsure of where to go, finally found Coriolanus’s shoulders, then gently, tentatively ran up the sides of his neck, fingers trembling slightly as they curled there, grounding him in something real.

The wind surged around them, catching the edges of their coats, it would have chilled them to their very cores, if it wasn’t for the heat blossoming in their chests.

Their dog tags clinked softly where they hung, his name on Coriolanus’s chest, Coriolanus’s name on his, metal warmed by skin, hearts pounding frantically beneath them.

It wasn’t clean or choreographed. Their noses bumped awkwardly, and Sejanus nearly laughed in surprise into the kiss until Coriolanus tilted his head and pressed in again, slower this time, more deliberate, lips brushing over his like a question he was terrified to ask out loud, and Sejanus answered by not pulling away, by pressing in closer, until his own back was guided firmly against the back of a brick wall with the gentle insistence of someone who’d waited far too long for this moment, and who’d never said anything at all. When they finally broke apart, it wasn’t far.

Their foreheads stayed pressed together, breath mixing in short, stunned gasps. Sejanus’s hands were still curled around the collar of Coriolanus’s uniform jacket. Coriolanus’s thumbs hovered near his jaw, like he didn’t know whether to let go or pull him in again.

Neither of them spoke at first. The world was too quiet. Eerily so for a long moment, a long drawn out moment where neither of them knew which way was up.

But Sejanus couldn’t stop staring at him, at the flushed line of Coriolanus’s cheekbone, at the pink bloom still soft on his now kiss swollen lips, at the too-wide blue eyes that wouldn’t look away from him now either.

“That didn’t mean anything either, I guess?” Sejanus said quietly, breathless. A joke. A lie.

Coriolanus gave a crooked, pained smile, like it hurt to hear it, and maybe even more to pretend it was true.

“Of course not.. Why would it?” Coriolanus murmured in response, words soft, almost fragile and anything but sure, the most hesitant Sejanus had ever seen him, it was like a switch had flipped. 

Neither of them said a word after that for a long moment, but the air between them crackled with something fierce, unspoken, urgent. Sejanus’s fingers still curled tightly around the collar of Coriolanus’s jacket, their foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling in the cold evening air around them.

Then, almost simultaneously, they pulled back, eyes wide, hearts hammering in unison.

Without hesitation, Coriolanus grabbed Sejanus’s hand, tugging him forward. They broke into a run, boots pounding on the cracked concrete and scattered debris of the Seam. As they moved, Coriolanus glanced back, voice low and hurried, “How long do you think supper has left?”

Sejanus gasped for breath but tried to answer, “Maybe fifteen minutes… twenty if we’re lucky? I hope.”

Coriolanus nodded, hopeful. “Good. That should be enough. Don’t you think?”

Sejanus nodded frantically. The cold air bit at their skin as they raced, the world around them fading into insignificance, the chatter of the base around them, distant voices, the fading light, all swallowed by the pounding of their hearts and feet.

The barracks were empty when they slipped inside, the heavy door thudding closed behind them like a final punctuation mark. The air inside was still, heavy with the faint scent of metal, damp wool, and the trace of Autumn air that clung to their coats. The light overhead hummed quietly, casting muted light that made the corners of the room feel further away, blurred and private.

It was just them now.

Coriolanus stopped near his bunk, his shoulders stiff, his breath shallow. He didn’t look at Sejanus right away, but he didn’t move away either. The space between them buzzed with everything they hadn’t dared to name back outside in the open. Not at the mess hall. Not in front of the others. Here, in the hush of the bunkroom, it finally felt like they could.

Sejanus stepped closer, slow and careful, as if the wrong movement might send the moment shattering like glass. His eyes searched Coriolanus’s face, not for doubt, but for permission. And when he found no resistance, just that guarded flicker of fear and want, he reached out.

His hand grazed Coriolanus’s wrist first, tentative. When he didn’t pull away, Sejanus let his fingers slip higher, up the sleeve of his coat, over the hard curve of his shoulder, until they found the side of his neck. His touch was gentle, grounding. Like he wasn’t trying to claim anything, just to be allowed to stay. His fingers grazed over the skin warmed metal chain Coriolanus’s dog tags, sitting still and steady against his neck, he knew his own tag was there, just under his shirt, like a promise, like a claim. Sejanus felt his fingers slip under the chain before he even truly knew what he was doing, pulling the dog tags out from under Coriolanus’s shirt. He shifted them around in his hand for just a moment, feeling the warm metal against his hand, before gently gripping the metal, carefully using the momentum to pull Coriolanus just a bit closer. 

Coriolanus finally looked at him then.

And whatever tension had coiled tight in his chest seemed to melt with the look Sejanus gave him, soft, steady, and unbearably open.

When they kissed again, it was quieter. Slower. Not an explosion, but something blooming between them, warm and tentative, like the first light of dawn seeping under a door. It wasn’t about hunger or proof. It was about recognition. About relief.

They stayed close, foreheads brushing, the weight of Sejanus’s dog tags shifting where they still hung against his chest, Coriolanus’s settling in his palm, grounding him. 

No words passed between them. None were needed.

The walls of the barracks around them, stained by years of orders barked and secrets swallowed, had never borne witness to softness like this. But tonight, they held it in silence. A secret, just for them.

Two boys, carved into soldiers before they ever had the chance to be anything else, stood close enough to feel each other’s breath. There were no declarations. No names for what passed between them. Just touch. Just nearness. Just the quiet, aching relief of not being alone in the wanting.

Hands wandered, never finding places to rest. Dog tags shifted like whispers against skin. The air between them, for once, didn’t feel heavy. It felt warm, and for the first time in a long, long while…They didn’t flinch from the feeling. They leaned into it. Whatever it was. Whatever it might mean. Here, in this worn-out room, beneath low light. They let it happen.

Chapter Text

Time seemed to stretch around them, thick and slow, much like the warm, heavy air just before a storm. The barracks blurred into a collection of shadows and soft outlines, while the outside world faded away completely. All that remained was the gentle tug between them, as their bodies discovered each other in bits and pieces, through touches that felt both tentative and full of longing. With each moment, they grew bolder, pushing boundaries a little further.

Their fingers glided over fabric and skin with a tender reverence, as if trying to memorize something that might slip away too quickly. When their lips met, it was a dance not driven by urgency, not yet, but by the thrill of discovery. Each kiss was a gentle exchange that left them both seeing stars. At times, Coriolanus would dive in a bit too fervently, their bodies colliding in a way that felt more like a battle than a dance. He would grip the back of Sejanus’s neck with just enough pressure to elicit a ragged groan from the brunette, a clear signal of his impatience and longing to delve deeper, to feel more. Sejanus eagerly responded, parting his lips with enthusiasm as a shuddering breath escaped him at the feeling of Coriolanus’s tongue caressing his mouth. It began softly, almost shyly, but it too quickly escalated into a fervent contest for dominance, a frenzied dance filled with passion and heat. Coriolanus’s movements were frantic, bordering on desperate, and he could feel the desperation growing within himself as the seconds dragged on. The overwhelming desire to experience the warmth of Sejanus’s skin against his own surged within him, a longing to be entirely wrapped up in his presence. 

Each breath shared between them felt heavier than the last, thick with things neither dared to say out loud. In the hush of the empty room, with only the distant hum of wind through the cracked windows, it felt like they were suspended in something fragile and rare. Something dangerous. Something real.

Each brush of Sejanus’s fingers against his skin sent heat surging through Coriolanus like wildfire, licking up his spine and pooling low in his gut. Now those fingers were trailing back up his shoulder, slow, intentional, until they hovered at the hollow just above his collarbone, where his pulse thundered beneath thin skin. They rested there lightly, reverently, like Sejanus was afraid he might hurt him. Like Coriolanus was something breakable. Once, that thought would’ve stirred something sharp in him, pride, maybe, or defiance. He wasn’t fragile. He didn’t need to be handled like glass. But right now? With Sejanus this close, this careful? That defiance was drowned out by want, by need, hot and aching and all-consuming. He didn’t want to be strong right now. He just wanted more.

But just as he leaned in to take it, to take more, their kiss broke.

Sejanus pulled back slowly, still close enough that his breath ghosted against Coriolanus’s mouth. His teeth caught on Coriolanus’s bottom lip, gentle, teasing, before letting go. And then their foreheads pressed together, both of them breathing hard, eyes fluttering shut against the weight of it all.

"You need to slow down… your heart is beating like crazy" Sejanus whispered, his voice low and breathless, not a command but a plea, soft and grounding. It wasn’t rejection. It was restraint. A tether tugging Coriolanus back from the edge just before he could fall.

Coriolanus stood frozen, his mind struggling to process the sudden retreat. Confusion flickered across his face, a crease forming between his brows as if he’d been yanked from a dream he wasn’t ready to leave. Then, like a dam breaking, panic flooded his eyes, wide, desperate, raw.

“No, no, Sejanus, we don’t have time, please… we…” His words stumbled out, halting abruptly as a harsh sound escaped him, a mixture of frustration, a growl thick with need, and something heartbreakingly close to a sob. His chest heaved under the weight of unspoken fears, the pressure of moments slipping away faster than they could grasp.

Sejanus’s eyes searched Coriolanus’s face, flickering with vulnerability and something deeper, something unspoken. The quiet around them seemed to thicken, their breathing loud in the stillness of the barracks. The worn walls, which had witnessed so much hardship and pain, now held the fragile secret of these two boys, two souls desperate to hold on to something real in a world built to tear them apart.

For a long moment, neither moved. Then Sejanus’s fingers, still lingering near Coriolanus’s lips, curled softly around the edge of his jaw, tilting his face up just enough to meet his gaze. There was no rush now, no urgency, only the steady pulse of something gentle but fierce, like a whispered promise.

“It’s alright,” Sejanus murmured, voice barely above a breath. “We’ll have time. Somehow, we’ll find it.”

For a heartbeat, Coriolanus paused, caught in the soft vulnerability of Sejanus’s eyes, shimmering with a mix of desire and hesitation. But the stillness didn’t last. An ache bloomed inside him, sharp and urgent, pushing him forward.

Coriolanus couldn’t help himself, not really.

Something inside him, sharp-edged and relentless, took hold of the moment Sejanus whispered “slow down.” And maybe he meant to. Maybe for a breath or two, he really tried. But instead, he pressed forward, chest brushing against Sejanus’s with a rising urgency, like he could chase the hesitation out of the air between them just by closing the distance.

He moved without thinking, hands sliding to Sejanus’s waist, guiding him back, gently, then insistently, until the backs of Sejanus’s legs bumped into the edge of the bunk behind him. His bunk. Coriolanus didn’t stop to notice. He wouldn’t have stopped if it hadn’t been.

Sejanus gave a soft gasp of surprise as he fell back onto the thin mattress, his spine hitting it with a muted creak and a startled breath that left his lips in a rush. The sound was quiet, but it shot through Coriolanus like a live wire, a spark in his blood. It wasn’t just surprise. It was responsive. Unfiltered. Real.

And it drove him forward like instinct.

His knees hit the edge of the bed as he leaned down over Sejanus, the air between them growing heavier with each breath, their proximity blurring the line between thought and feeling. Sejanus looked up at him, eyes wide, chest rising and falling beneath the soft fabric of his undershirt, lips still parted as though he wasn’t sure whether to say something or wait to be kissed again.

Coriolanus didn’t speak. He couldn’t. Every part of him felt tuned to the moment, the warmth radiating off Sejanus’s skin, the flutter of his breath, the heat of his gaze. He wanted to memorize all of it. Not just the closeness, but the way it felt to be wanted like this. To want like this. He couldn’t help himself as he leaned down and pressed a desperate kiss to Sejanus’s jawline. His voice was low and cracking with need as he whispered “please don’t make me stop. I can’t stop” which drew a ragged, surprised gasp from the boy below him. 

The sound Sejanus made, that gasp, sharp and breathless, went straight through Coriolanus like a shockwave. It wasn’t just the gasp itself, but the way it slipped out, raw and involuntary, like Sejanus hadn’t expected it either. It made something tighten deep in Coriolanus’s chest, something that felt frightening and exhilarating all at once.

Everything else, every flicker of light above them, every distant murmur of the district outside, seemed to vanish. There was only this. Sejanus’s uneven breathing, the warmth of his body so close, and the sudden weight of what they were doing pressing down on him like gravity.

And still, Sejanus didn’t move away, didn’t try to stop him or slow him down again this time, instead he pressed closer. 

Instead, his arms slowly came up, wrapping around Coriolanus’s neck, drawing him in with a kind of need that was quiet but undeniable. The movement wasn’t rushed, it was deliberate. Willing. Vulnerable. Coriolanus could feel the tension in his body, the slight tremble in his fingers, the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

His breath brushed against Coriolanus’s cheek as he spoke.

"Don't stop," Sejanus whispered, voice husky, frayed at the edges with emotion. "Please… don’t stop."

Coriolanus froze, not from hesitation, but from the sheer force of feeling those words stirred in him. It wasn’t just about desire. It was about permission. About being wanted, not for what he could do or what he represented, but for who he was in this moment. Stripped of expectation, stripped of performance.

He let out a shaky breath, forehead lowering to rest gently against Sejanus’s. His hands, which had been braced on either side of Sejanus’s hips, curled just slightly into the fabric beneath them, grounding himself. Because suddenly, he felt like if he let go, he might actually float away. 

It was all Coriolanus could do not to give in completely, to the fire in his chest, to the magnetic pull between them, to the way Sejanus's lips had just moved under his like a promise he wasn’t sure he deserved. His breath was shallow, heartbeat erratic as he hovered over Sejanus, their foreheads pressed together, their mouths still tingling from the last frantic kiss.

The next question from Sejanus came softly, barely above a whisper. "How far… do you want this to go?" Sejanus's voice held no challenge, no edge. It was careful. Gentle. Like he was offering something fragile in his hands, afraid Coriolanus might crush it without realizing.

For a moment, Coriolanus couldn’t speak. Not because he didn’t know the answer, but because he didn’t trust himself with it. The room felt suddenly too quiet, the silence pressing in around them like a breath held too long. He felt the weight of Sejanus’s gaze on him, searching, waiting, not just for permission, but for truth.

He swallowed hard.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, voice low, rough around the edges. “I just… I don’t want it to stop.”

There was no strategy in that. No performance. Just raw honesty slipping through the cracks in his armor.

Sejanus gave a small nod, his hands still resting at the back of Coriolanus’s neck. His thumbs traced slow, almost absent circles against his skin. He didn’t press further, but he didn’t pull away either. He was quiet for a long beat, his eyes still on Coriolanus but distant now, like he was already somewhere else. His rough fingertips kept brushing against the curve of Coriolanus’s throat, skimming the chain of his dog tags, light, repetitive touches that grounded them both in the present while hinting at something more.

“You’re right you know…” Sejanus murmured eventually. “We don’t have time. Not here.”

He didn’t sound disappointed, exactly. Just resigned. Like someone who knew how fleeting safety and peace was in places like this, how rare it was to feel something without someone watching. His voice dropped further, almost conspiratorial. “We’re going to have to go somewhere else. If we want to do this right, and I don’t want to do this.. Wrong..” he trailed off, before adding with a mumble “not with you” 

Coriolanus’s eyes flicked up, meeting Sejanus's, vulnerability filled their blue depths for just a moment, before they flicked toward the door, heart still hammering beneath his ribs. The barracks were empty now, but it wouldn't stay that way. Every second they lingered was a risk. Still, he leaned closer, voice like a secret passed between shadows. “We could always go to the meadow.”

That made Sejanus blink. His lips parted, a bit in shock, like he hadn’t expected the offer, hadn’t considered that Coriolanus, cold, calculated Coriolanus, might want not just closeness, but softness. Space. Something real. Something quiet, something just for them.

“The meadow?” he echoed, quiet.

“It’s far enough out. No patrols after dark,” Coriolanus said, his tone casual, but his eyes betrayed him, lit with something raw and wanting. “No one will follow.”

For a moment, all Sejanus did was look at him. Really look at him. His fingers stopped moving on Coriolanus’s neck, just resting there. He breathed in slowly, then out again.

“You’d really go out there with me?”

Coriolanus offered a faint, crooked smile, barely there. But it was sincere. “You asked how far I wanted this to go, didn’t you? Guess it’s all the way to the meadow, and whatever happens there happens..” 

Sejanus laughed softly, that same disbelieving sound from earlier, like he still couldn’t quite believe what was unfolding between them. Then he nodded. Once.

“Okay,” he whispered. “The meadow.”  

Once again, it was like a switch was flipped, Coriolanus reluctantly scrambling off of Sejanus after planting one last fleeting kiss against his jaw, and pulling Sejanus up roughly by the front of the jacket after him, in a surprising move of desperation and strength, considering the smaller, leaner build of the blonde. He had gotten surprisingly muscular since they’d gotten here, Sejanus noted, even if he still bordered on thin. It was that lean type of muscle that still screamed hidden strength, and currently, he was using it, no matter if he meant to or not, and Sejanus was letting him. He let himself be dragged along like a puppy on a leash, one far too willing to follow, even when he didn’t know exactly how to get where they were going. There was something embarrassingly easy about it, the way his steps automatically matched Coriolanus’s, the way he stayed close without thinking. No resistance. No hesitation. Just a silent, invisible tether that pulled him forward, something warm and familiar that curled in his chest and made it feel less like being led, and more like being chosen, but as they scrambled to leave, Sejanus snatching a blanket off of Coriolanus’s bunk as they passed, Sejanus mumbled something about a quick detour, and suddenly Coriolanus was the one being led.

And the worst part? He didn’t mind. Not one bit. If anything, there was a strange sort of comfort in it. If Sejanus was holding the leash, Coriolanus figured there were worse things than being taken wherever he wanted to go. 

As they stepped out into the cool night, the warmth still lingering on their skin from flushed kisses slowly faded beneath the sharp bite of autumn air. The sky overhead stretched wide and endless, a deep indigo canvas freckled with faint stars, their pale light shimmering softly through the thin veil of clouds. The quiet hum of the base at night wrapped around them like a cloak, distant shuffles, the faint murmur of night guards, the occasional metallic clang echoing through the stillness.

Coriolanus blinked, momentarily disoriented, as his senses struggled to reconcile the haze of adrenaline and desire with the sudden drop in temperature. His heart still hammered in his chest, each breath a visible puff in the chill air. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to steady himself, his thoughts tangled in the heat and urgency of what had just unfolded between them.

Sejanus caught his glance and offered a playful, almost teasing smirk that made Coriolanus’s pulse stutter. Then, without warning, Sejanus seized his wrist with a gentle but firm grip and tugged him forward, breaking the quiet night with the sound of their footsteps crunching on the gravel path. He moved with determined speed, weaving through the scattered clusters of buildings as if he knew exactly where he was going.

Coriolanus followed, the initial thrill of being led somewhere unknown mingling with a creeping confusion. They passed the dimly lit mess hall, folks now starting to filter out as evening mess had just come to an end, perfect timing. They turned down a quieter, more shadowed path. The further they walked, the more Coriolanus realized where they were headed, and a flicker of surprise tugged at his brow.

“The infirmary.. what?” he finally asked, his voice low and hesitant, breath visible in the cold night.

Sejanus didn’t look back immediately, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward into a knowing smile. “Yeah,” he replied softly, his voice barely above a whisper but charged with a quiet confidence and laced with something like urgency. “Gotta grab something real fast..”

Sejanus stopped just long enough for Coriolanus to catch up, their shoulders brushing lightly in the crisp night air. He looked up, eyes shimmering with something softer now, a blend of hope and vulnerability beneath his usual quiet strength.

Coriolanus tilted his head slightly, a mix of skepticism and reluctant amusement crossing his features as he tried to understand what Sejanus was up to. “And what would that be…? ” he asked, genuinely curious.

Sejanus stopped just long enough for Coriolanus to catch up, their shoulders brushing lightly in the crisp night air. Coriolanus looked up at him and noticed that Sejanus’s eyes were shining with something softer now. There was a blend of hope and vulnerability beneath his usual calm and strong demeanor, which intrigued Coriolanus even more.

“Uhhh... supplies... ” Sejanus said with a small, earnest laugh, the kind that made the moment feel lighter.

“Supplies? ” Coriolanus pushed, raising an eyebrow in disbelief as he tried to figure out what kind of supplies Sejanus could possibly need for what they were about to do. 

“Lube,” Sejanus replied flatly, his expression serious but his eyes twinkling with mischief. “It’s important”

For a brief moment, the night seemed to hold its breath around them, as if waiting for Coriolanus’s reaction. The blush that suddenly colored Coriolanus's pale cheekbones was inescapable, but still, despite himself, Coriolanus couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, the sound escaping him more genuinely than he had expected. “You’re out of your mind,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Maybe,” Sejanus admitted with a playful glint in his eye. “But you’re following me anyway,” he added with a smirk, clearly enjoying the banter between them. It was moments like this that made what they had feel special, whatever it was now, filled with laughter and lighthearted teasing amidst the backdrop of the quiet night. Coriolanus found himself smiling, feeling a sense of warmth and connection as they continued their adventure together, the tension of the night fading away.

Together, they stepped forward, the world narrowing to the small shared space between them. And Coriolanus followed. Of course he did. Like a spark trailing after fire, like gravity itself was working in reverse and Sejanus was the only thing keeping him tethered to earth. He stumbled once on a stray root poking through the gravel path, but the hand tugging him onward never let go. It didn’t need to. Right now, he would’ve followed him anywhere.

They moved quickly through the darkened base, their footsteps muffled against the cracked pavement. The night was cool and sharp, the autumn air curling around them like a whispered secret. Coriolanus’s heart still pounded from their hurried escape, the heat of their flushed skin slowly cooling in the breeze. Sejanus led the way with steady purpose, fingers lightly brushing against Coriolanus’s arm as if to remind him he wasn’t alone. The infirmary came into view ahead, its plain facade glowing faintly under the sparse outdoor lights.

“What if someone catches us sneaking in here?” Coriolanus whispered, his breath visible in the cool night air as they pressed themselves close against the cold brick wall beside the heavy door. Shadows pooled beneath their feet, and the faint glow of distant lamps cast flickering light over the quiet base.

Sejanus glanced at him, eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and something softer. “What are you worried? It’ll just be real quick if you are, I’ll grab it and come out. You can stay out here if you want,” he murmured, voice low and tentative. “I don’t mind.”

Coriolanus blinked, caught off guard by the offer. The crisp autumn breeze nipped at his skin, but the thought of being apart, if only for a moment, felt colder still. His heart thudded against his chest, torn between hesitation and the pull of his desire to be close at all costs.

Sejanus’s fingers brushed lightly over Coriolanus’s hand, a small, reassuring touch. “But if you want to come inside... well,” he said with a quiet smile, “then don’t hold back.”

Coriolanus swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. The base was meant to be a place of order and rules, but here, in the shadows of night, those rules felt distant and fragile.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Coriolanus nodded. The cold brick beneath his back, the rustling leaves in the breeze, even the distant hum of the base, all faded into the background, eclipsed by the urgency between them. “I want to come with you” he whispered, a sudden confidence overtaking him “I can’t believe we’re doing all of this for lube.” 

Sejanus let out a soft, nearly quiet laugh “I know, what a rebel you’ve become, now shhhh” He held a finger to his mouth, before moving forward slowly. Side by side, they slipped through the door and into the dimly lit medic building. 

It was barely thirty seconds later when they burst back through the medic building’s entrance, adrenaline still thrumming through their veins. Sejanus clutched the small bottle of personal lubricant like it was a rare treasure, fingers curled tightly around it as if it alone could protect them from discovery. His face was flushed, a triumphant grin spreading wide across his lips. Coriolanus followed closely behind, breath catching in his throat as he fought to keep laughter from spilling out, his chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths.

“Oh my GOD, Sejanus, you almost got us caught!” Coriolanus hissed, eyes bright with mirth as he shook his head in disbelief. The memory of nearly being spotted made his heart race, but the absurdity of their mission sent warmth curling through him.

“Me?!” Sejanus shot back with exaggerated offense, his voice low and playful. “I told you to stay right by the door! Your clumsy ass had to follow behind me, and nearly tripped over that rusty cot,” he jabbed a finger toward the corner where Coriolanus had stumbled just moments before. “I was as quiet as a mouse.”

Coriolanus smirked, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Yeah, sure, big lug. You didn’t even know where it was supposed to be, despite all your big talk.”

Sejanus let out a theatrical sigh, shoulders dropping in mock defeat, though the pride still gleamed in his eyes. “Oh, sue me,” he said with a crooked smile. “I found it, didn’t I?”

The tension between them melted into easy laughter as they shared the small victory, the sterile walls of the infirmary fading away, replaced by the warmth growing between them, even in the cool night air.

By the time they slipped back outside, their laughter still lingering in the air, Sejanus was bent over with his hands braced on his knees, catching his breath as the last of the adrenaline ebbed away. He smirked up at Coriolanus, the moonlight catching in his hair. “We should get to the meadow before we have any more near disasters… or before that poor medic starts to wonder where their lube got to.”

Coriolanus only shook his head at the jab, though his own smirk still tugged at his mouth, refusing to be chased away. Sejanus’s grin, still crooked and stubbornly bright, lingered in the corner of his vision even as they turned away from the infirmary and towards the expanse of night. Neither said anything more as they slipped further into the cool night, their laughter still hanging like smoke in the air, fading but not gone.

The infirmary loomed behind them for only a moment before it disappeared into shadow, its pale light swallowed by the dark. Ahead stretched the path to the meadow, narrow at first, scattered with loose gravel that crunched beneath their boots. The air was sharp with damp, tinged with the metallic edge of dying leaves and wet soil, a smell that clung to their clothes and skin. Coriolanus inhaled too deeply, as though trying to drown the restlessness pounding in his veins with something steadier, but it didn’t help. His pulse only quickened when Sejanus fell into step at his side, brushing close enough that their shoulders met in fleeting, careless touches.

At first it was accidental. The path was narrow; they were walking fast. But when it happened again, Sejanus leaning in just slightly, Coriolanus not moving away, the brush of warmth lingered longer than necessary. A third time, and it was no longer chance at all. The space between them had grown impossibly small, as if the night itself pressed them together.

Their strides were brisk, more hurried than the hour or the distance demanded. It wasn’t simply eagerness to reach the meadow, though that hunger gnawed at both of them, it was also the restlessness left behind from the rush at the infirmary, from the near disaster, from the laughter that had dissolved too quickly into something taut and breathless. From their shared desperation back in the barracks. The urgency sat beneath their skin like static. Sejanus exhaled too quickly, the sound ragged at the edges, and Coriolanus caught himself listening for every breath.

A hand brushed his. Just the faintest slip of skin against skin, enough to jolt through him like a spark. Coriolanus drew in a sharp breath, but didn’t pull away. The touch came again, lingering a moment longer this time, knuckles grazing, fingertips almost daring to curl around his. They broke apart, then found each other again, the rhythm as clumsy and desperate as their footsteps pounding the path. Neither spoke, but the silence between them felt louder than words, charged, trembling with the weight of everything unspoken.

The gravel gave way to softer ground, the packed earth muffling their steps. Around them, the tall grasses thickened, reaching to their waists, their tips brushing against sleeves and hands like ghostly fingers. Moonlight caught on the blades, scattering pale silver across their faces, and Sejanus’s profile seemed carved in brightness and shadow. Coriolanus found himself staring too long, nearly missing his footing in the uneven soil, the stumble breaking loose a laugh, short, breathless, almost nervous. Sejanus glanced over at the sound, his grin softer now, though his eyes burned with something far less innocent. He reached out in that moment, steading Coriolanus with a gentle but insistent hand at his waist. Firm, almost possessive in its presence. The simple feeling of that hand on his waist had Coriolanus biting back a groan. God, he couldn’t wait anymore, didn’t know how he’d waited this long.

They moved quicker, almost tripping over their own eagerness, yet slowed at every touch. Shoulders leaning closer until they nearly pressed together, hands brushing, parting, brushing again, glances that lingered so long they left a trail of heat behind. It was a contradiction in every step, hurry and hesitation, tenderness and hunger, like the night itself was caught between slowing them down and pushing them forward.

By the time the meadow finally opened before them, a wide stretch of grass gleaming faint under the stars, it felt less like they had walked there and more like the meadow had drawn them in, tugging them along with invisible threads. They stood on the edge for a breath, the air thick with the hum of crickets, the world around them hushed. Their strides slowed, almost reluctant, as if crossing into the meadow would tip them past a line they couldn’t return from. And still, neither could stop moving.

Chapter Text

It really wouldn’t have mattered where they picked, but Sejanus gravitated toward a quiet corner of the clearing, partly sheltered by the lean of a tree. Its branches caught the moonlight and shattered it into shifting shards, laying pale fragments across the grass like scattered glass. Coriolanus followed a few paces behind, watching as Sejanus crouched to spread the blanket with a careful precision, smoothing out the corners, tugging it flat until it lay even. Always so meticulous. Always trying to do things properly, even here, even now. Coriolanus’s chest ached with a sudden, inexplicable affection, sharp enough that he had to act before it swallowed him whole. He reached forward, tapping Sejanus lightly at the side just to announce himself, before letting his hand drift upward.

His fingers traced the ridge of bone beneath fabric, gliding slowly along the length of Sejanus’s ribs. He felt the muscles beneath jump at his touch, quivering like the taut string of a bow. A faint, crooked smile tugged at Coriolanus’s lips at the reaction. He dragged his hand higher still, palm spreading open across Sejanus’s chest, flat and steady, and there it was. That heartbeat. Fierce, hammering against his hand, as though trying to leap straight into his palm. His own pulse quickened in answer, but he kept his touch calm, deliberate, firm, as if by pressing there he could anchor them both. His hand grazed over Sejanus’s dog tags, gently fidgeting with them for a moment, before moving his hand up more, threading it through the chain and bringing it up to rest across the front of Sejanus’s throat, feeling his pulse quicken with each touch.

The air between them thickened instantly, weighted and alive. The earlier laughter, the adrenaline, all of it drained away, replaced by something heavier, quieter, something that hummed with heat just beneath the surface. It was like standing in the moment before lightning struck, every breath tight with static.

Coriolanus felt Sejanus lean back, just slightly, a subtle tilt of his body seeking him out. The shift made their frames meet, Sejanus’s back brushing against his chest, soft fabric pressing into firm muscle, heat bleeding through in a way that stole Coriolanus’s breath for half a beat. He froze, drinking it in. The way Sejanus’s throat bobbed beneath his hand in uneven pulls. The way his buzzed head tilted back ever so slightly, brushing Coriolanus’s chin. The weight of trust in that small, instinctive movement.

Coriolanus leaned down, close enough to feel Sejanus’s warmth radiating through the night air, close enough that his own breath fanned against the back of Sejanus’s head. His fingers flexed lightly against that throat, each frantic fluttering of pulse seeming to echo his own.

The tree above them groaned in the faint wind, but Coriolanus barely noticed. The world had shrunk to this, his hand, his breath, the boy leaning back against him like he belonged there. The tension wrapped tight around his ribs, heavy, but he didn’t want to shrug it off. He wanted to sink into it, let it hold them both captive as long as it could. 

Sejanus let out a soft, ragged hum, a sound that reverberated faintly through Coriolanus’s chest. It was hesitant at first, almost as if he were testing the space between them, weighing the moment. Then, without warning, he moved. Fluid and deliberate, Sejanus turned into him, letting the momentum push Coriolanus gently against the rough bark of the tree behind them. The texture pressed through his thin undershirt, coarse and grounding, a sharp contrast to the heat pressing in from Sejanus’s body.

Sejanus’s arms rose instinctively, bracing on either side of Coriolanus. He didn’t trap him aggressively, didn’t force him into submission; instead, he held him in place, a living shield of warmth and solid muscle. The closeness made Coriolanus hyper-aware of every tiny detail, the soft brush of Sejanus’s arm along his side, the faint tremor of his muscles under the fabric, the steady, rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat that seemed to synchronize with Coriolanus’s own.

The air between them thickened, heavy with tension and unspoken need. Coriolanus tilted his head back slightly, eyes locking with Sejanus’s. Moonlight fractured through the branches above, catching in the other boy’s buzzed hair, illuminating the sharp lines of his jaw and the faint rise and fall of his chest. Every ragged inhale and exhale felt magnified, every subtle shift in posture sending electric shivers through Coriolanus’s spine.

Then Sejanus’s voice cut through the charged silence, low and hoarse, trembling with urgency, “I am going to kiss you now… and this time, I’m not stopping. Is that okay?”

The words hit Coriolanus like a physical blow. His knees weakened, and his chest felt impossibly tight. That voice, husky, certain, tinged with need, resonated in him, setting nerves alight with a mixture of desire, and anticipation and the slightest hint of fear. Fear of stepping into this unknown territory with him

“God-” His breath caught, shaking. “Yes… Sejanus. Please.”

Instinctively, Coriolanus leaned back just slightly, pressing against Sejanus, letting the other boy’s warmth anchor him. His fingers curled into the thin fabric of Sejanus’s shirt, gripping reflexively as though holding on could steady the storm raging through him. The warmth, the closeness, the undeniable press of muscle and breath against his own, it was dizzying, overwhelming, and entirely impossible to resist.

Sejanus stayed still for a heartbeat longer, his chest rising and falling in shallow, deliberate breaths that matched Coriolanus’s own. The small tremor in his fingers, the subtle flex of his muscles beneath the fabric, the faint heat radiating through their clothes, it was all enough to send Coriolanus’s pulse hammering in his ears.

The pause stretched, infinite in its tension, until Coriolanus could barely stand it. Every nerve screamed for contact, for release, for the inevitable collision that had been building between them all night. Then, imperceptibly, Sejanus leaned in, brushing his forehead against Coriolanus’s. Their breaths mingled, shallow and ragged, each exhale a promise, each heartbeat a shared pulse of need.

Coriolanus tipped his head just enough, instinctively, and finally let himself close the remaining distance. His fingers tightened instinctively along Sejanus’s sides, pressing into him as if to anchor himself before everything shifted, before nothing would ever be quite the same again.

Sejanus’s lips met his with deliberate urgency, confident and demanding. Gone were the fumbling, clumsy kisses of before, this one had purpose, pressure, a rhythm that matched the wild thrum of Coriolanus’s heartbeat. His fingers curled into the sides of Sejanus’s shirt, gripping, pressing, memorizing the warmth and subtle flex of muscle beneath his palms.

Hands moved instinctively, one moving to grip the back of Sejanus’s neck, the other brushing over the dog tags that rested between their chests. The metal pressed cold against heated skin with every shift of their bodies, clinking faintly as their torsos pressed together. Coriolanus shivered at the contrast, the weight of the tags grounding the frantic heat of the moment.

Sejanus titled his head just slightly to deep the kiss, spurred on by a soft groan that was torn from Coriolanus’s throat when Sejanus’s teeth grazed lightly against his bottom lip. His tongue began tracing in slow, teasing, confident strokes. The press of their chests sent a current through Coriolanus, muscles coiling, breath hitching. He was desperate to feel more of him. He leaned fully into Sejanus, letting himself melt against the solid warmth, feeling every subtle shift of body and flex of muscle. The heat between them was suffocating in the best way, bodies pressed flush, every movement electric. Coriolanus’s hands roamed lower, pressing along Sejanus’s sides, tracing the lines of muscle beneath the thin fabric of his undershirt. Sejanus responded with equal attention, one hand brushing along Coriolanus’s neck, thumb tracing his jaw, the other pressing firmly at the small of his back, keeping him flush and anchored. Their hips nudged, brushing, shifting in sync, eliciting low groans from each of them as they unintentionally found a delicious sort of friction. Friction that only served to spur Coriolanus on further. His fingers dug into the lapels of Sejanus’s jacket, tugging with deliberate urgency, a clear demand that left no room for question. Sejanus broke the kiss just long enough to shrug it off, eyes dark, smoldering with lust, fixed entirely on Coriolanus. The heat radiating from him was immediate and intoxicating, and Coriolanus shivered at the sight, the sight of Sejanus standing there, bare arms flexing beneath the faint moonlight, gaze hungry and unwavering.

“This too,” Coriolanus whispered, voice low, ragged, a sharp edge of need threading through it. His hands moved to the hem of Sejanus’s undershirt, tugging roughly, desperate to peel it away. Sejanus didn’t respond instantly instead he lost himself back in Coriolanus’s body, latching onto Coriolanus’s neck, lips pressing hard and greedy, teeth grazing briefly as his tongue swept with teasing insistence. A soft, breathy moan escaped Coriolanus’s chest, and the sound only seemed to drive Sejanus closer, hotter, more demanding, his teeth found a sensitive spot right above Coriolanus’s pulse point, sucking the sensitive skin into his mouth hard enough to bruise, before soothing back over the spot with his tongue. The sensation had Coriolanus crying out in pleasure, a high pitched sound of need leaving his throat, a sound that would have embarrassed him if he wasn’t so damn desperate right now.

“Come on, Sejanus,” he breathed, tugging again at the shirt, his fingers grazing the warmth of Sejanus’s ribs, feeling the subtle flex of muscles under skin so smooth it burned to touch.

Sejanus pulled back reluctantly, dark eyes flicking over him, full of need and want, before complying. With quick, fluid movements, he shrugged off the undershirt, tossing it aside carelessly, exposing the smooth, firm plane of chest and the subtle lines of muscle beneath. Their buzzed heads brushed together as he leaned forward again, the short hair tickling Coriolanus’s fingertips, sending a shiver down his spine. Between them, the faint clink of dog tags marked their proximity, cold against the heat pressing between their chests, the metallic jingle almost a heartbeat in sync with their own.

“Good, Happy?” Sejanus murmured, voice low and hoarse. “Now your turn, jacket and shirt off. Now.”

Coriolanus didn’t hesitate. Fingers trembling with heat and urgency, he yanked at his own jacket, shrugging it off in one rough motion. His hands moved to the edge of his undershirt, fumbling only for a moment before pulling it free and tossing it aside, exposing his chest to the cool night air, and to Sejanus’s burning gaze. The dog tags resting at his sternum jangled softly against Sejanus’s chest as he pressed forward again, the faint metallic clink of their tags hitting together grounding against the intensity, a reminder that this closeness was real and theirs alone.

Sejanus wasted no time. He captured Coriolanus’s lips again in a deep, urgent kiss, hands roaming over the firm, heated planes of Coriolanus’s torso. Which urged Coriolanus to do some exploring of his own, fingers trailing over taut muscle as he moaned into the kiss, letting the heat of his body press fully against Sejanus’s. The contrast of the cold metal of the dog tags against warm, sweating skin heightened every nerve ending, making each touch and press feel electrifying.

Coriolanus brought his hand up to the back of Sejanus’s head to push him closer, and his short hair brushing against his fingertips sent a thrill through him. Hips nudged, insistent and needy now, seeking that same, delicious friction they’d stumbled upon before, and each time they’d found it, ragged moans tore from their chests. Hands roamed over shoulders, down sides, along backs, clutching, pressing, guiding, memorizing. Each subtle flex, each brush of lips, each grazing of teeth, sent fire streaking along Coriolanus’s nerves, leaving him trembling and dizzy.

Their breathing mingled, ragged and hot, filling the quiet clearing with the sound of desire and need. Coriolanus pressed closer, moving with intent, his body molding to Sejanus’s with every shift, every push, every nudge. 

Every touch was deliberate, every kiss electric, every movement pulling them further into a rhythm built on urgency, intimacy, and the raw magnetism that had been simmering between them all night. The faint clink of dog tags between their chests punctuated the movements, a metallic heartbeat tethering them to each other as their bodies pressed closer.

Even in the briefest pauses, Sejanus didn’t allow himself to breathe. He stayed flush against Coriolanus, pressing the heat of his body into him, lips never far from skin. Whenever Coriolanus shifted slightly, he ducked lower, trailing desperate, open-mouthed kisses down the line of his jaw. The soft brush of lips against sensitive skin, the faint scrape of teeth, the wet, urgent teasing of tongue, it all sent shivers crawling down Coriolanus’s spine.

Every touch of Sejanus’s lips seemed calculated to draw out a reaction. Coriolanus’s fingers dug into the muscle of the other boy’s shoulders holding him closer as soft moans escaped his throat. The warmth of Sejanus’s chest pressed against him, steady and taut, only intensified the rising need that ran hot from his stomach to the tips of his fingers.

Sejanus dipped lower still, tilting his head, sucking a fresh bruise into Coriolanus’s neck with his mouth. The suction was firm, deliberate, and the sound of pleasure it drew from Coriolanus vibrated deep in his chest, making his own pulse spike. Each small gasp, each low moan, seemed to fuel Sejanus even more, driving him to mark more territory, leaving dark, sprawling lovebites against the pale expanse of Coriolanus’s skin. A nagging voice in the back of Coriolanus’s mind recognized what a bad idea letting him get all possessive like this was, but he couldn’t bring himself to make him stop, not when it felt this good. Pleasure coiled tight in his abdomen with each new mark, with each sound that fell from Sejanus’s lips as he worked, and Coriolanus couldn’t help but respond with equal desperation.

Coriolanus arched slightly into him, breath coming in shallow, ragged pants, each moan coming out louder, more urgent. The contrast of hot, taut skin beneath his hands, the firm press of Sejanus’s chest, and the cold, metallic bite of the dog tags swinging lightly against them all added to the rush, grounding the raw intensity even as it surged higher.

Even as the night air cooled the clearing around them, the heat between them was unrelenting. Every press of Sejanus’s lips, every mark left on pale skin, every shiver and gasp, drew them deeper, binding them together in an urgent, intimate rhythm that left Coriolanus dizzy and entirely consumed by Sejanus’s hunger, his persistence, and the relentless, consuming press of their bodies, and when they pressed into each other again, lips reconnecting, hands roaming freely, torsos flexing in sync, hips nudging with subtle insistence, Coriolanus let himself sink fully into Sejanus. Every nerve ending was alive, every breath ragged, every touch electric. They were tangled, pressed flush, and completely consumed with one another, and Coriolanus knew with certainty that there was nowhere else he would rather be than here, in the heat, the weight, and the electric intimacy of Sejanus’s arms around him.

When they finally broke for a shallow, ragged breath, their foreheads pressed together, lips brushing occasionally, the faint jingle of the dog tags between their chests was almost erotic in its own right. He could feel the rise and fall of Sejanus’s chest against his own, the steady thrum of his pulse, the warmth radiating in waves that made Coriolanus dizzy. 

The tension between them was unbearable, urgent, raw. Coriolanus felt the heat radiating from Sejanus’s body, the solid weight of him pressed against the curve of his own. Then Sejanus shifted, subtly sliding a hand down Coriolanus’s side, before moving away. The distance was almost unbearable, while Sejanus moved to the blanket that lay a few feet away. In one smooth, deliberate motion, he stepped back just enough to carefully fall down to his knees on the fabric, gently rumpling the soft surface beneath him as he anchored himself. 

He looked up at Coriolanus, dark eyes smoldering, lips glistening from their kisses, and with a slow, teasing motion, beckoned him forward. The gesture was magnetic, pulling Coriolanus across the short distance with an almost irresistible force. The heat from Sejanus’s body, the taut line of muscle beneath his chest, and the gentle sway of his dog tags clinking faintly with every subtle shift made the pull impossible to resist. Heat pooled even deeper in his chest at the sight of Sejanus kneeling there, waiting just for him.

Coriolanus didn’t hesitate, following Sejanus onto the blanket with haste, taking his outstretched hand. The moment his fingers closed around Sejanus’s, the other boy tugged sharply, pulling him closer with a surprising force. Coriolanus’s knees hit the soft fabric, hands braced against Sejanus’s chest, feeling the solid warmth pressing back. He gasped, heat pooling low, breath catching as Sejanus’s dark, molten gaze held him in place.

For a moment, they simply pressed together, as if once again, trying to come to terms with this new position. Then Sejanus shifted subtly on the blanket, leaning back slightly onto his hands, giving Coriolanus the hint he needed. Heart hammering, Coriolanus moved without hesitation, swinging a leg over Sejanus’s lap, straddling him fully. The instant their hips met, a spark of friction ran through the both of them, the weight of his body pressing down against Sejanus in a way that made both of them inhale sharply.

Coriolanus leaned down further, pressing his chest flush to Sejanus’s, lips never leaving his, moans spilling freely now with every subtle grind and press of his hips. He ran his hands along Sejanus’s shoulders, down his sides, clutching him as tightly as he could, drawing low groans from Sejanus with every movement. Each gasp, each whimper, every slick, needy kiss only fueled the urgency, the heat and tension between them. Sejanus’s hand began to trail deliberately down the front of Coriolanus’s neck, brushing over the curve of his collarbone, lingering along the taut planes of his chest. Each inch of skin that Sejanus’s fingers touched seemed to hum with heat, and when his hand settled just above Coriolanus’s belt, pressing lightly, the world seemed to narrow, leaving only the two of them. Time slowed, the air thick around them, and Coriolanus felt his chest tighten with that familiar, frantic panic.

It was the same panic that had hit him before, sharp and insistent, the one that warned of boundaries that, once crossed, could never be undone, just this time, much more real, but in that suspended, heavy moment, it didn’t matter. None of it did. There was no one else he would rather have here, no one else whose touch made his body feel this alight, this undone. So even as his pulse spiked and his breathing quickened in slight fear, he managed to steady himself with a breath.

Coriolanus’s hands found Sejanus’s shoulders, gripping, anchoring, as his body instinctively leaned into the heat pressing up against him. Every small movement sent jolts of sensation up through him. His breaths came in quick, uneven gasps, ragged and shallow, heart hammering, pulse thrumming through every nerve ending. Sejanus’s voice cut through the haze, low and rough, yet gentle, carrying that raw, beckoning edge of desire, “Is this alright?”

The words hit Coriolanus like a spark, his chest tightening further, but this time the panic mixed with need, with want, with the undeniable certainty that he was exactly where he was supposed to be. His hands tightened slightly against Sejanus, pressing into the warmth and weight, leaning forward just enough to close the gap, voice trembling yet firm.

“Yes,” he whispered, breath catching, words barely more than a moan. The affirmation felt both like surrender and command, an offering and a claim all at once. The tension between them seemed to shiver in response, thickening the space, drawing them closer. Sejanus gave a small, reassuring smile, his fingers deftly moving to Coriolanus’s belt buckle. “Relax… I’ve got you,” he whispered, voice low and steady, grounding. “Just breathe. We have as long as you need.”

Coriolanus’s chest rose and fell sharply, a tight, ragged inhale escaping him, but before he could respond fully, he shook his head frantically. “No, no, it’s alright. I need- this- you… it’s fine. Keep going.”

Sejanus’s smile deepened at the raw need in Coriolanus’s voice, the slight tremor that ran through his body. He leaned in just slightly, brushing lips along the sensitive curve of Coriolanus’s jaw, grounding him further, letting the warmth of his presence steady the frantic surge of adrenaline and want. Fingers moved with careful, precise pressure, working the buckle free as Coriolanus’s hands pressed lightly against Sejanus’s shoulders, clutching, steadying himself, fingers tightening and releasing as he shivered with both anticipation and the dizzying rush of closeness. The simple click of the buckle seemed to echo in the hush of the night around them when it finally slipped free, a small, intimate punctuation to the building tension and Coriolanus’s sharp inhale turned into a ragged exhale

“Good, Just like that, now lift your hips for me.. Just a bit..” Sejanus murmured, his voice dropping  into a low, husky murmur, lips brushing closer to the column of Coriolanus’s throat, teeth grazing ever so lightly, drawing a shiver and a soft whine from him. Coriolanus’s head fell back slightly, eyes half-lidded, chest rising and falling in uneven pants, the sound of his own voice breaking out in short, desperate gasps as his need mingled with trust. Sejanus’s fingers traced the curve of Coriolanus’s waist, brushing over skin sensitized from earlier touches, before slipping lower, gliding along the firm line of his hips. Each movement was deliberate, precise, teasing, the fabric of Coriolanus’s pants soft under his hands as he eased them down, inch by inch. The sound of the cloth sliding over skin, amplified every small sensation, every shiver, every ragged inhale.

Coriolanus pressed into him instinctively for comfort in the moment, hands digging into Sejanus’s chest, fingers flexing against taut muscle, seeking purchase as his own pants gave way beneath Sejanus’s guidance. He mirrored Sejanus’s movements, Undoing Sejanus’s belt with fingers that moved with much more confidence than he felt, before helping him slide them down as he lifted just slightly off the blanket. The press of Sejanus’s now bare thighs beneath him, the subtle grind of skin on skin had a ragged moan tearing from Coriolanus’s throat again, voice trembling, breath uneven, his heart still hammering in his chest.

The slight movement, the adjustment of weight, made the blanket crinkle and shift beneath them. Coriolanus’s hips tilted forward slightly on their own, urging Sejanus’s hands to move with a bolder, more confident rhythm. Sejanus shifted slightly on the blanket, pressing himself flush against Coriolanus, letting the heat of their bodies mingle. His hands trailed down Coriolanus’s sides, warm and teasing, fingers brushing over the taut planes of muscle before reaching the waistband of his underwear. “One more time” he murmured, and Coriolanus obeyed, knees pressing into the soft fabric of the blanket as Sejanus’s hands carefully guided the fabric down over his thighs.

Coriolanus let out a sharp, breathy sound, a mixture of anticipation and the thrill of vulnerability, and immediately mirrored the movement, hands sliding under Sejanus’s waistband. The other boy’s underwear followed soon after, dropping to the blanket with a faint rustle. For a brief moment, they sat bare before each other, chests rising and falling in ragged synchrony, the heat between them thick, almost tangible. The air was almost bitterly cold around them, but they were anything but. 

Sejanus’s eyes lingered on Coriolanus, dark and reverent, and he couldn’t help the soft, breathy whisper that escaped him. “You’re… really beautiful,” he murmured, fingers brushing lightly over the curve of Coriolanus’s waist, tracing lines over the smooth skin. Small goosebumps rose up under his touch.

Coriolanus froze for a fraction of a second, cheeks flushing, breath catching in a mix of surprise and shyness. His hands pressed lightly against Sejanus’s chest, grounding himself, voice low but teasing as he replied, “You’re… surprisingly handsome yourself.” The words came with a small smirk, a playful glint in his eyes, even as his stomach fluttered at Sejanus’s compliment. He ran his hand down Sejanus’s chest as if to emphasize his point, letting his hand come to a stop against the soft bush of hair just under his navel, the feeling of it against his hand causing him to shiver a bit. Sejanus’s lips curved into a soft, approving smile at the response. Then, with careful movements, he reached for the small tube of personal lube in the pocket of his discarded pants, the sight had a low, eager whine slipping from him as he pressed instinctively closer.

“Someone’s needy?” Sejanus teased, voice low and playful, lips brushing briefly against Coriolanus’s temple. His fingers pressed firmly against the small of Coriolanus’s back, keeping him flush against the warmth and weight of his body. With careful, deliberate movements, he popped the cap off the tube of lube, the sound almost echoing through the clearing, holding it in one hand while the other anchored Coriolanus in place.

Coriolanus let out a sharp, breathy gasp, chest rising and falling rapidly. He tried to push back slightly, attempting a scowl. “Oh, don’t start with me,” he grumbled, trying to sound frustrated, but the breathless, desperate edge of his voice completely undermined the attempt. A low, ragged whine escaped him as he pressed instinctively closer, hips brushing against Sejanus’s, which caused them both to suck in a sharp, shaky breath.

Sejanus’s eyes darkened with amusement, a soft, approving hum vibrating through his chest. “You’re too cute when you’re flustered,” he murmured, hand trailing lightly along Coriolanus’s side, teasing over heated skin with slow, deliberate strokes. Coriolanus shivered under the touch, letting out another ragged moan despite himself.

Coriolanus tried to hide the flush creeping over his cheeks, but his body betrayed him, the arch of his back into Sejanus’s firm press, the ragged breaths escaping his lips, the subtle, trembling movements of his hips against Sejanus’s own, almost a slow grind, all of it revealed how undone he already was. “You’re… not helping,” he muttered, voice low and ragged, though the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed how much the teasing was working.

Sejanus leaned closer, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to Coriolanus’s jawline. “I’m not trying to help,” he murmured, a playful glint in his dark eyes, “I’m enjoying this too much. I think that much is obvious..” and then, in a softer, huskier tone, he asked, “Now… are you ready?”

Coriolanus let out a sharp, breathy inhale, pressing instinctively closer, hips brushing against Sejanus. “Yes… I’m ready,” he whispered, voice ragged, heat pooling low, hands bracing against Sejanus’s chest as desire and anticipation coiled tight in his stomach. 

Sejanus’s lips curved into a soft, approving smile. “Alright.. Just relax.. I’ve got you” He then squeezed a generous amount of the lube onto his fingers, and rubbed them together until slick and warm. The subtle glisten of the lube caught the faint moonlight, and Coriolanus shivered, letting out a soft, breathy moan as his eyes followed the deliberate movements of Sejanus’s fingers as they traveled down in between his thighs.

Coriolanus felt his breath catch as Sejanus’s fingers slid over him, exploring with a care that contrasted sharply with the desperation behind every movement. The touch was maddening, tender yet insistent, and it had his whole body shivering with the effort of keeping himself from unraveling too fast. He could feel the reverence in it, the way Sejanus touched him like he couldn’t quite believe this was real, and that knowledge alone sent heat flooding through his chest. A rough tug at the back of his neck pulled him down until his face pressed against Sejanus’s shoulder, the warmth of his skin and the solidness of his frame grounding him, keeping him from falling apart completely. The closeness soothed and inflamed in equal measure, and Coriolanus couldn’t stop the broken gasp that escaped him when Sejanus’s fingers pressed just right. The sound ripped out of him unbidden, raw, and the way Sejanus clung tighter only made it worse, or well, better.

“God…” Coriolanus's lips trembled against his warm skin, the word breaking apart in the haze of pleasure. He could feel the frantic rhythm of Sejanus’s hips shifting beneath him, their bodies locked together, and he nearly lost it at the thought of being the cause of that kind of desperation.

When Sejanus’s hand spread wide across his back, fingers splaying firm and possessive, Coriolanus let out a sharp groan, grinding harder into his fingers. He barely had time to recover before he felt teeth graze along his ear, biting just enough to wrench another needy whimper from his throat.

“You- fuck, Sejanus-” he gasped, arching helplessly against him, every nerve in his body sparking. His whole body jolted when he heard Sejanus’s voice, rough and low against his ear. “You take it so well.”

Coriolanus’s eyes fluttered shut, chest heaving, and when Sejanus’s fingers pressed deeper, before he added another, challenging him with that boldness he never expected, Coriolanus could only cling tighter, voice breaking apart into a desperate, breathless moan. He wanted more. He needed it. 

“More-?” Coriolanus’s voice cracked on the word, a strangled whine tearing from his throat before he could bite it back. His composure, always so carefully maintained, was gone now, shattered beneath the weight of Sejanus’s touch. “Please, Sejanus… I can take it, I promise I can-!” The plea dissolved into a raw gasp as another finger pushed in, the stretch sharp and sudden. His whole body arched, muscles trembling as a shocked cry broke out of him, half pain, half the kind of pleasure that made his vision swim. His hands flew out, one clutching desperately at Sejanus’s shoulder, the other tangling in the blanket below them like an anchor against the overwhelming rush.

“God- ahh, fuck,” he choked, his breath shuddering with every push. It was too much, but at the same time it wasn’t enough- never enough. His thighs quivered where they were caging in Sejanus’s thighs, instinctively pressing down, trying to take him even deeper, greedy for the pressure. He buried his face against Sejanus’s neck, muffling the next desperate sound against his skin, teeth scraping before he pulled back just enough to pant against his ear. “Feels so- so fucking good,” he babbled, voice high and breaking, hips rolling helplessly into the rhythm Sejanus set for him. “Don’t stop- don’t you dare stop.”

Even through the sting of the stretch, he could feel the heat building, coiling tighter with every thrust of Sejanus’s fingers. His body betrayed him, shivering and clenching around the intrusion like it couldn’t decide whether to resist or drag him in deeper.

“Vocal little thing, aren’t you?” Sejanus purred, his breath hot against the sensitive skin of Coriolanus’s neck. He nuzzled closer, letting the rough stubble along his jaw brush teasingly over the soft, sensitive skin, drawing a sharp, involuntary gasp from Coriolanus. Every shiver, every small cry, made Sejanus’s own hips twitch in response, and his fingers pressed deeper with careful, deliberate pressure, testing Coriolanus’s limits while coaxing pleasure from him.

Coriolanus arched sharply against him, voice thick and raw. “Oh- shut up, stop teasing, and just- fuck me already!” The words tore from him in a mixture of frustration and longing, his hands clutching Sejanus’s shoulders, tugging against him, desperate to feel every inch, every touch more closely.

Sejanus let out a soft, amused tsk, low and teasing, but there was heat behind it. “Demanding too… well now,” he murmured, a smirk playing against his lips as he tilted his head, brushing another sloppy kiss across the shell of Coriolanus’s ear. He let his teeth graze, just enough to elicit a shiver, before returning to the rhythm of his fingers, steady and merciless, driving Coriolanus closer with every stroke.

His other hand slid up Coriolanus’s torso, fingers trailing along the curve of his ribs, gripping lightly at his sides as if anchoring him, claiming him. Every press of Sejanus’s lips against his neck, every deliberate nudge of his hips beneath him, Sejanus moving as if he couldn’t help himself, pushed Coriolanus further over the edge, and he couldn’t stop the sharp, ragged sounds spilling out.

“Fuck, Sejanus…” Coriolanus gasped, chest heaving, fingers digging into his shoulders. “I… I’m gonna- oh, god…” His words dissolved into a high-pitched moan as he felt the steady, teasing rhythm of Sejanus’s fingers driving him wild, each press and curl sending jolts of heat straight through him.

Sejanus chuckled against him, low and breathless, lips brushing along the sensitive line of his jaw. “Not yet… not until I say so, plus.. do you really want to before we get to the good part?” he murmured, voice thick with desire. “But soon… oh, Coryo, soon you’ll be screaming for it, and I’ll make sure I’m the only thing you feel.” 

Sejanus let out a low, ragged hum as he slowly withdrew his fingers, the motion deliberate, teasing, almost torturous. The sudden absence of pressure drew an involuntary, sharp whine from Coriolanus, his body jerking slightly at the loss. He bit back a curse, hands clutching at Sejanus’s shoulders, trying to anchor himself, trying to grasp at the empty space where the warmth and friction had just been. Sejanus’s lips curved into a mischievous, breathless smirk, leaning down to press his forehead to Coriolanus’s, letting his stubbled cheek graze the sensitive skin along his jaw. “Mm… miss that already, hm?” he murmured, voice thick with desire and playful cruelty. His eyes flicked up to catch Coriolanus’s flushed, frustrated expression, and a shiver of satisfaction ran through him.

Coriolanus hissed through clenched teeth, chest heaving, hips pressing instinctively where Sejanus had just moved. “Sej… don’t… don’t stop like that.. not fair..” he rasped, voice strained, trembling with want. His fingers twitched toward Sejanus’s hand, desperate to pull it back, to feel it buried inside him again.

Sejanus chuckled low and huskily, fingers brushing teasingly along Coriolanus’s hip, never quite returning to the spot that had him melting. “Oh, I’m not done with you yet,” he whispered, voice thick with need. “Just making you wait… feel how much you need it.” Every movement, every teasing glance, sent fresh jolts of heat through Coriolanus, his hips jerking involuntarily as his breath hitched. Sejanus pressed his chest lightly against him, anchoring him while keeping the tension sharp, knowing full well that the momentary withdrawal had Coriolanus trembling with want, and that he wasn’t even close to finished.

Sejanus’s chest heaved as he stared down at Coriolanus, momentarily lost in the haze of want. He opened his mouth, about to ask, “Are you ready for-?” when a desperate, pleading groan cut him off.

“Yes- yes, god, please, please! Don’t make me wait anymore- fuck, Sejanus!” Coriolanus practically begged, hips lifting instinctively, hands clutching at Sejanus’s shoulders like he could anchor himself to the moment. The raw, ragged edge in his voice, the way he shivered atop him, sent a fresh surge of heat straight through Sejanus. A low, guttural groan escaped him, his chest pressing tighter against Coriolanus’s as the desperation fueling him became almost unbearable. “Gods… yes… alright… just- just give me a moment,” he rasped, voice thick with want, trembling from the anticipation and the urgent need coursing through his veins.

He fumbled briefly, hands slick and trembling, before uncapping the lube, the cold gel making him hiss sharply for a moment, but he didn’t care. Not one bit. All that existed in that meadow was the slick, hard length of himself and the trembling, flushed figure straddling him. He quickly coated his fingers in the gel, working quickly, making sure to spread it evenly, slicking himself until the friction would be minimal. His eyes flicked up to Coriolanus, taking in the way his chest rose and fell, the way his lips were parted, voice ragged and needy, hands grasping at his shoulders. Every glance, every shiver made Sejanus’s own body pulse with impatience. “Soon… you’re going to feel me… I swear” he murmured breathlessly, dragging a finger lightly along Coriolanus’s hip as a tease, watching him shiver in anticipation.

Sejanus’s hips nudged forward, barely brushing against him, and he let out a low, desperate groan. “I need you… can’t… I can’t wait..” His hands gripped Coriolanus’s thighs, spreading them slightly, fingers pressing just enough to ground him, to steady both of them, while his own body trembled with the sheer ache to finally be inside him. 

Sejanus’s chest heaved, every nerve alight with anticipation as he murmured, voice ragged and thick with need, “Here… take it slow. I’ll let you set the pace.” His hands pressed firmly against Coriolanus’s hips, thumbs digging into skin, grounding himself while trembling with the urgent desire coiling in his veins. Coriolanus drew a sharp, shaky breath, hovering for a heartbeat, chest rising and falling heavily, mind spinning from the slick, heated tension between them, and then, unable to resist any longer, he sank down in one smooth, desperate motion, impaling himself on Sejanus with a shuddering gasp. The friction of slick skin against slick skin sent jolts of pleasure through both of them instantly, heat pooling low in Sejanus’s belly. The groan that tore from Coriolanus’s throat was sharp and desperate, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to lean back and sink down onto him more, to savor more of that overwhelming pleasure, or to lean forward and nuzzle into the comforting warmth of Sejanus’s neck. 

Overwhelmed by the intensity, by the pressure, by the fullness, by the urgent heat, Coriolanus didn’t know how to steady himself, so instinctively, he leaned forward and bit down into Sejanus’s neck, sharp and desperate, trying to suppress the ragged moans tearing from his throat. The action sent a jolt through Sejanus, drawing a startled, ragged groan from him. “Ah- fuck… Coryo-” Sejanus’s body shuddered with the unexpected sting, hips twitching instinctively against him.

Coriolanus’s hands clutched at Sejanus’s shoulders, knuckles whitening, as he rocked slowly, riding the stretch, trying to find some sense of rhythm while completely surrendering to the sensations that consumed him. Every bite, every shiver, every gasp seemed to ignite Sejanus further, and he pressed down with him, holding him close, hands sliding up along Coriolanus’s sides, gripping and grounding him while his own chest trembled in need. “Slow down, Slow down” Sejanus groaned. “We have time.. Oh god.. Just let yourself breathe..”

Coriolanus panted against him, lips brushing the sensitive skin of his neck, nipping again lightly before lowering his head to capture Sejanus in a heated, desperate kiss. His hands gripped Sejanus’s sides, pulling him impossibly closer as he sank deeper, letting himself ride the delicious friction fully. He could barely hear Sejanus’s voice through the pulse thundering in his ears. He felt like he was drowning in the most delicious way, losing himself to the pleasure, to Sejanus. 

Sejanus’s chest pressed flush against Coriolanus’s, trembling with each slow, calculated movement. He tilted his head, lips grazing the shell of Coriolanus’s ear, stubble brushing tender skin with teasing, almost cruel precision. “Just like that… yes… just breathe… you’ve got me right here…” he whispered, voice thick and needy, hips jerking slightly with every subtle grind. “You’re doing so good.. Gorgeous.. Move when you’re ready.. Come on..”

Coriolanus continued to sink and shift, setting a slow, deep rhythm, teasing the stretch as he rode Sejanus fully. Sejanus responded instinctively, rolling with him, rocking subtly, hands clenching at Coriolanus’s sides, nails grazing skin in a desperate, grounding motion. Every nerve screamed with pleasure, every inch of him burning with the friction and heat of Coriolanus atop him.

The soft, wet sound of their bodies moving together filled the meadow, mixed with ragged gasps, shivering moans, and broken words. Coriolanus bit again, this time along Sejanus’s jaw, feeling Sejanus twitch and gasp beneath him, the reaction only spurring him on.

Sejanus pressed his forehead into the curve of Coriolanus’s shoulder, voice low, trembling with need. “You… you feel so fucking good…so warm..” His words were broken, desperate, almost incoherent, but filled with raw, unrestrained want. His hips pressed instinctively, chasing the friction, riding every tiny movement, he wanted to delay the inevitable, to prolong the exquisite tension even while every muscle screamed for release.

Every small motion, every subtle bite, every press of their bodies brought Sejanus closer to the edge, and he clutched Coriolanus harder, letting out ragged gasps and low moans, completely undone by the intoxicating mix of pleasure, desperation, and the bold, teasing energy that Coriolanus exuded. “Perfect, you’re so perfect”

At that, at the simple, hoarse praise spilling from Sejanus’s lips, something in Coriolanus shattered. His restraint snapped, unraveling into pure desperation. He pushed up on trembling thighs, then dropped back down again, faster, harder, each movement less measured and more frantic than the last. A cry tore from his throat, raw and unpolished, as he rode Sejanus in a blur of instinct and need. His muscles burned with the strain, but it only added to the dizzying heat building inside him, every ache twisting into another thread of pleasure. His chest glistened with sweat, and the corners of his eyes pricked with tears, just simply from how overwhelmed he was, and still he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop.

Sejanus’s hands were everywhere, gripping his hips, his waist, dragging him down deeper each time with unrelenting want. The slap of skin against skin echoed louder now, mingling with Coriolanus’s gasps and Sejanus’s groans until it was nothing but a symphony of need.

“Fuck- Sejanus” Coriolanus gasped, his voice breaking on the name, each syllable trembling as his body shook from the relentless pace. His nails dug into Sejanus’s shoulders, leaving stinging red crescents as if anchoring himself there, terrified of flying apart completely. His body felt too tight, too hot, every nerve burning under Sejanus’s praise, his touch, his presence. Each thrust sent sparks behind his eyes, blinding him with how quickly he was spiraling. The pressure building in his core was unbearable, electric, threatening to tear him apart, and through it all, Sejanus’s eyes stayed on him, wide and hungry and full of awe. It only pushed Coriolanus harder, made his hips move faster, chasing the high he could already feel crashing toward him like a wave. Every moan, every gasp, every frantic cry was an admission he couldn’t take back. He didn’t care. He was already too far gone. They were constant now, the sounds he was making, each one louder and more desperate than the last, and here Sejanus was, holding him, talking him through it like he was the most divine thing on Earth. 

Sejanus’s voice came out ragged, thick with heat and reverence, his chest rising and falling hard beneath Coriolanus. “Are you close?” he asked, the words strained, desperate, almost breaking under the weight of his own need. His fingers dug harder into Coriolanus’s hips, guiding, steadying, pulling him down deeper as though he couldn’t stand even the smallest distance between them.

“Come on,” he rasped, his forehead pressing against Coriolanus’s neck, stubble scratching against sweat-slick skin as he breathed him in. “I’ve got you. Just let go with me.” His lips brushed along Coriolanus’s jaw, open-mouthed, biting lightly, unable to stay still as the tension in his body coiled tighter. Each thrust of Coriolanus’s frantic hips pulled a rough groan from Sejanus’s throat, his own restraint hanging by a thread. “You feel so good,” he murmured, voice breaking into something close to a plea. 

“So fucking good… gods, Coryo, you’re doing so well for me…” The praise tumbled from him unfiltered, as though the moment had stripped away the last of his inhibitions, leaving only raw honesty behind. His hands slid up Coriolanus’s back, clutching him close, desperate to keep him there, pressed against him, sharing the same rhythm, the same breaking point.

“Let me feel you fall apart,” Sejanus begged softly, his lips grazing the hollow of Coriolanus’s throat, his teeth catching on his skin as if he could anchor him there with just his mouth. His hips bucked up helplessly, meeting every frantic drop of Coriolanus’s body.

Coriolanus let out a deep, broken groan, his frantic pace stuttering, muscles trembling as his rhythm faltered. His whole body shook with effort, with pleasure hanging just out of reach. His voice cracked, desperate, raw: “c.. can’t.. I- Sejanus.. touch me, please…”

The plea undid Sejanus, who obliged eagerly. “Oh, fuck.. yeah, I’ve got you,” Sejanus rasped, his breath hot against Coriolanus’s skin. One hand slid down between them, wrapping firmly around Coriolanus’s aching length. The first stroke had him keening, sharp and helpless, the sound vibrating against Sejanus’s throat.

His other hand moved instinctively, searching for something to ground him, something that tethered this moment to reality. His fingers caught on the cool chain resting against Coriolanus’s damp chest. The dog tags clinked faintly as Sejanus curled them in his fist, gripping them like an anchor while his body trembled beneath Coriolanus’s. The metal bit into his palm, sharp and solid, as though he could hold Coriolanus’s very identity in his hand.

Coriolanus’s head snapped back, a raw cry spilling out as Sejanus’s strokes grew rougher, more insistent. His hips bucked helplessly, caught between the deep drive of Sejanus inside him and the slick slide of his fist outside. His nails raked down Sejanus’s shoulders, while Sejanus’s knuckles whitened around the chain, pulling just enough to make the chain dig into the back of Coriolanus’s neck, pressing him further into Sejanus’s neck.

“That’s it,” Sejanus urged, his voice gravely and needy, hips snapping up to meet Coriolanus’s own. He pressed his lips to Coriolanus’s temple, panting between kisses. “Gods, you’re perfect… look at you, shaking for me… come on, let go. Right here, baby. With me.”

A broken whimper tore from Coriolanus as Sejanus’s thumb brushed over the flushed, leaking head, cruelly precise. The dog tags jingled again, metallic against their messy skin, Sejanus clutching them tighter as if they alone could hold him steady through the overwhelming flood of sensation. “Come for me,” he growled against Coriolanus’s ear, his fist working faster, his other hand tugging the tags again, as if claiming him. “I want it. All of it. Give it to me.”

That push was all it took. Coriolanus’s entire body jerked, seizing with his release as he spilled hot and thick between them. His cry broke against Sejanus’s neck, muffled by another desperate bite, his muscles locking around Sejanus in perfect rhythm with every ragged breath. Sejanus groaned, stroking him through it, hand never leaving the tags, clutching them like a lifeline. He kissed Coriolanus’s temple once again, words trembling out in reverence, “That’s it… gods, that’s it. My boy… so fucking good for me.”

Coriolanus collapsed forward against him, trembling and breathless, the last pulses of his release leaving him boneless and weak in Sejanus’s arms. Sejanus’s hand slowed around him but didn’t stop, coaxing every drop, savoring the way Coriolanus’s body shuddered against his chest, clenching so tightly around him it was nearly unbearable.

The sight, the sounds, the feeling, everything was too much. Sejanus’s voice broke in a ragged moan, his grip on the dog tags tightening until the tags bit harshly into his skin. “Fuck- Coryo, gods-” His hips snapped upward on instinct, wild and uneven, chasing that final push over the edge.

Coriolanus whimpered weakly, overstimulated, but still ground his hips back against him, milking every thrust. “Sej…” he mumbled, voice hoarse, and the desperate little plea undid him completely.

Sejanus’s head tipped back, teeth bared in a strangled groan as the orgasm tore through him. His whole body seized, every muscle drawn tight as he spilled deep inside Coriolanus, warmth flooding between them. His hands shook violently, one clinging to Coriolanus’s hip, the other yanking the tags taut, pulling Coriolanus as close as possible, earning a choked off gasp from him as he did.

“Oh, fuck- fuck-” he panted, rutting weakly through the aftershocks, riding it out with Coriolanus trembling around him, keeping him locked in that heaven. His forehead pressed to Coriolanus’s shoulder, sweat slicking their skin, as his groans softened into breathless gasps.

When the waves finally began to ebb, Sejanus loosened his death grip on the chain, his fingers left with faint red marks where the metal had bitten into his palm. He let the tags fall against Coriolanus’s chest again, listening to the faint clink as they settled back into place. His hand smoothed over Coriolanus’s back, soothing circles replacing the frantic clutch of moments ago.

His forehead rested against the curve of Coriolanus’s shoulder, his voice rough but full of warmth when he finally spoke. “You’re everything,” he whispered, the words slipping out without thought, as if pulled straight from his chest. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

He held him close, still buried inside him, unwilling to let go, his trembling finally giving way to something softer, relief, wonder, and a fierce kind of love that left him almost as breathless as his release. 

After a few moments, Sejanus exhaled, a shaky, ragged sound as he pressed a lingering kiss against Coriolanus’s jaw. Slowly, carefully, he eased out, each movement deliberate, as if unwilling to let go too quickly. Coriolanus shivered at the sudden emptiness, a low, breathless groan escaping him. He instinctively pressed back into Sejanus, trying to chase the lingering friction, but relaxed when he felt Sejanus’s hands immediately smoothing over his back and waist, grounding him.

“Oh.. god,” Coriolanus murmured, voice shaky, half from overstimulation, half from the tenderness of the gesture. “That.. that felt.. wow..” His fingers curled against Sejanus’s arm, pulling him closer, a soft gasp escaping as he rested his cheek against Sejanus’s chest. “Don’t.. don’t let go.”

Sejanus smiled faintly, even while still trembling, and tugged the blanket beneath them so they could sink in together more comfortably. One arm curled around Coriolanus’s waist, the other reaching around to toy with his dog tags, fingers clinking gently along metal. “I’m right here,” Sejanus murmured, voice low and warm. “Not going anywhere.”

Coriolanus let out a shaky laugh, relaxing against him. “Yeah.. yeah, I can feel that,” he whispered, pressing closer, eyes half-lidded in contentment. “You’re.. really something, you know that?”

Sejanus let out a soft chuckle, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “And you’re perfect,” he murmured, voice still trembling, “especially like this, with me.”

The meadow around them stayed quiet, the grass swaying gently, but inside their small, tangled world, neither moved, just breathed, and held one another, and let the aftershocks fade in the warmth of each other.

For a while after, they simply lay there, tangled in the flattened grass, bodies pressed close, the chill of the night air unable to touch them. The meadow seemed to cradle them in its quiet, the tall blades swaying gently, whispering against bare skin where shirts had been discarded and forgotten. Above, the stars burned sharp and steady, scattered like spilled salt across the velvet dark, and Coriolanus stared at them without really seeing, his mind lost in the rare gift of stillness.

His chest rose and fell in time with Sejanus’s, the steady rhythm lulling him deeper into the haze. For once, the endless noise in his head, the anxieties, the doubts, the restless hunger, had gone quiet, drowned out by the weight of Sejanus’s body against his, by the warmth radiating from his skin, by the delicate touch of fingers mapping him as if he were some undiscovered beauty to be uncovered. Sejanus traced slow, thoughtful patterns across his throat and collarbone, pausing every so often to ghost a thumb over the reddened crescents and bruises mottling his pale skin. The marks stung faintly when pressed, but even that sharpness felt strangely grounding, a reminder of how close they had been, how real this was. They dotted his neck like constellations, stars inked into his flesh, claimed with a reckless tenderness.

Neither of them hurried to speak. The silence was heavy but not oppressive, filled with the small sounds of the world around them, the rustle of grass in the wind, the chirp of distant crickets, the faint hitch of Sejanus’s breath whenever his touch lingered too long in one spot. Coriolanus let his eyes slip shut, surrendering to the moment, as though by not speaking he could suspend time itself, hold this fragile peace in his hands for a little longer.

When words finally broke the quiet, they came from Sejanus, as they always did. He shifted slightly, breath warm against Coriolanus’s skin as his voice slipped out low, tentative, almost sheepish.

“Sorry… about all these.” His fingers stilled, hovering just over a particularly dark bruise along the curve of his throat. He gave a soft, rueful laugh that vibrated against Coriolanus’s chest. “I got a little carried away. They… might be hard to hide. The boys are.. Gonna notice..” 

“Let them notice.”

Coriolanus’s voice was a rasp when he spoke, cracked and uneven, as if it had been scraped raw against stone. It carried the weight of strain, every syllable roughened by how hard it had been used earlier, yet threaded through with something more dangerous, conviction. The sound of it was low, almost guttural, dragged up from somewhere deep in his chest. Even as the words left him, he swallowed hard, his throat bobbing, the edges of the declaration catching like fire in dry grass.

He shifted faintly beneath the crush of the meadow grass, breath stirring the strands of Sejanus’s hair that had fallen across his shoulder. “I don’t plan to take off the dog tag either…” he added, softer, the rasp still there, but gentled now, like steel dulled against cloth. He said it so plainly, as though it were nothing at all, not the irrevocable vow it was.

The silence that followed was thick, charged, Sejanus’s heart pounding in the hollow of it. His breath hitched before he could stop it, and his grin broke loose like sunlight through clouds. He ducked his head quickly, pressing it into the crook of Coriolanus’s neck, hiding the sheer brightness of it. “I’m glad for that…” he murmured against his skin, lips brushing lightly over the bruises he’d left. He pressed a kiss there, then another, gentle as if sealing the vow with reverence. Coriolanus’s answering sigh was torn and unsteady, a sound that carried more truth than words ever could.

Sejanus lingered, letting the warmth of him soak into his cheek, until the restless spark in him surged again. With a sudden shift he rolled forward, bracing his arms in the grass and sliding to straddle Coriolanus’s hips. The motion flattened the stalks beneath them with a hushed rustle, and Coriolanus let out a low grunt, startled, but not displeased. His smirk flickered even as his chest rose sharply, hands moving instinctively to Sejanus’s waist. His fingers flexed there, not quite deciding whether to push him off or anchor him in place.

“You make it too easy,” Sejanus teased, grinning down at him, though his voice betrayed a softer note beneath the playfulness. He leaned close enough that his nose brushed Coriolanus’s cheek, close enough that the heat of his breath mingled with the cool night air. For a long, suspended heartbeat, his eyes drank in every softened detail of the face beneath him, the hard lines blurred by moonlight, the pale throat littered with constellations, the lips still parted, still carrying the rasp of that vow.

Coriolanus muttered something sharp-edged, “Careful, you’re playing with fire, soldier” but his voice was still frayed, the gravel in it refusing to let go, leaving the warning sounding more like an invitation.

Sejanus’s grin softened into something steadier, warmer, even as he lowered his forehead to rest against Coriolanus’s, his body pressing close but not crushing. “We should try to get back before curfew… just in case. Don’t want to get Court martialed for our sexual escapades..” The words were reluctant, heavy with duty, but his hand betrayed him, thumb tracing slow circles at the hinge of Coriolanus’s jaw, unwilling to let go, as if the longer he touched him the longer this moment might stretch, and though he said the words, his body still refused to rise.

At last, Sejanus sighed, a long, reluctant sound that sagged through his chest, and pressed a final kiss to the hollow of Coriolanus’s throat. It lingered, unhurried, sealing the moment. Then, with visible effort, he pushed himself upright, shifting to sit back on his heels. His weight lifted, though not entirely, his knees still brushed Coriolanus’s thighs, still straddling him, his body hovering as though reluctant to lose contact altogether.

Coriolanus followed more slowly. He propped himself up on his elbows, then straightened fully, sitting with his knees bent in the flattened grass. His dog tag slipped against his collarbone with the movement, catching the faint silver of the moon. For a moment, he simply sat there, shoulders rising and falling with an audible sigh, gaze drifting over the meadow as though memorizing it. His hand dragged down his face, pausing at his mouth, before he finally muttered, “Fine. You’re right.. Curfew.” The word tasted begrudging, like something sour he’d been forced to swallow.

They dressed slowly, every motion stretched out as if delay might carve more minutes into the night. Sejanus tugged his shirt over his head, the fabric catching briefly on his shoulders, before smoothing it down with brisk pats. Coriolanus moved less neatly, jerking his trousers back into place, fastening his belt with hands that fumbled just slightly in the dark. When Sejanus noticed a smear of dirt along his sleeve, he reached out without a word, brushing it away with deliberate care. His touch lingered far longer than the task required, thumb trailing faintly against Coriolanus’s arm, up his shoulder, and up to his collar bone before pulling back.

When they finally rose, the meadow revealed their secret, a dark patch of grass flattened where they had lain, outlined against the silver-lit field like a mark left behind by something sacred. Both paused to look at it, silent, as though acknowledging that they were leaving a piece of themselves there.

Turning toward the path, they walked side by side, shoulders brushing now and then with quiet inevitability. Their buzzed heads caught the starlight, crowns gleaming faintly pale, and every so often one of them tilted just enough for their temples to graze. Hands hovered close, brushing in near-contacts, heat sparking each time their knuckles grazed. Neither reached fully, but neither pulled away. It felt heavier as they left than it did when they’d arrived, each brush of skin. They knew their relationship had changed now, irrevocably, linked together permanently by the moment they’d just shared, and the tags around their necks. 

The barracks loomed somewhere ahead, curfew ticking closer with every step, but their pace was anything but hurried. It was the walk of boys dragging a dream back into reality, carrying the fragile warmth of the meadow with them even as it began to fade. Every step away from that patch of crushed grass seemed to weigh more heavily, yet neither dared to stop, afraid, perhaps, that if they looked back too long, they would never leave at all.

They reached the barracks door much too soon for either of their comfort, the looming slab of metal catching a thin slice of moonlight. Neither of them moved to open it. The walk back had drained into silence, but it wasn’t empty, it was taut, charged, each brush of shoulders and hands feeding the weight of what neither dared to say aloud.

Coriolanus turned first. His pale eyes, sharp even in shadow, softened just enough to betray what he’d been holding back. His hand came up, deliberate and rough in its tenderness, cupping Sejanus’s jaw. His thumb traced the edge of stubble along the buzzed line of his cheek, dragging a faint rasp from skin to skin. And then he pulled him in, quick and sure.

The kiss collided into being, sudden and hungry. Their mouths met with force, teeth knocking once before they found the rhythm, before desperation smoothed into urgency. It wasn’t careful, not like the meadow, it was breathless, consuming, full of all the words they couldn’t risk speaking aloud.

Sejanus gave in instantly, pressing forward until Coriolanus’s back brushed the wall beside the door. His fists curled in the front of Coriolanus’s shirt, tugging him close, the fabric wrinkling between his fingers. Coriolanus answered with equal force, one hand gripping the back of his neck, the other flattening against his side, pulling him flush until there was no space left to steal.

The world shrank to heat and breath and the metallic taste of need. The barracks, the curfew, the looming consequences, all of it fell away in the fever of that kiss. For a few raw seconds, there was only the press of lips, the scrape of teeth, the desperate sound of breathing torn from each other’s lungs.

When they finally broke apart, it wasn’t far. Their foreheads stayed pressed together, noses almost brushing, both panting quietly in the cool night air. Sejanus’s lips were swollen, trembling faintly, his eyes half-lidded but burning with something steady. Slowly, as though drawn by gravity, his hand slid up from Coriolanus’s chest. His fingers found the chain at his throat, the cool metal stark against the heat of his skin.

The dog tags clinked softly as Sejanus curled his hand around them, holding them like proof, like a claim. His thumb brushed over the engraved surface, lingering there as if memorizing the weight of it in his palm.

“Thank you,” he whispered. The words barely left his mouth, fragile and quiet, but they landed with the force of something undeniable. Gratitude, yes, but also reverence, promise, something too deep for the space between syllables to contain.

Coriolanus’s breath hitched, a sound closer to a swallow than an answer. His eyes flickered, pale and sharp even in shadow, betraying the smallest crack in his armor. He didn’t pull away, didn’t reclaim the tags. He just stood there, chest rising sharply beneath Sejanus’s hand, as if the weight of those two words had lodged in him somewhere he couldn’t shake.

For a long moment, they remained frozen in that fragile stillness, Sejanus’s hand gripping the tags, Coriolanus leaning into the closeness as though he might fall without it. At last, reluctantly, Sejanus let the tags slip free. The chain rattled softly against Coriolanus’s sternum as they fell back into place, the sound far too loud in the charged quiet.

The barracks door loomed beside them, impossible to ignore. Sejanus lingered for one final heartbeat, his hand brushing faintly against Coriolanus’s chest as if reluctant to let go, before he dropped it back to his side. Their eyes met once more, heavy and unfinished, before they finally pulled the door open and slipped into the waiting dark inside. 

But it was anything but dark and quiet

Almost immediately, as soon as the heavy door groaned open, the quiet of the night gave way to a tidal wave of noise.

The barracks had clearly been restless in their absence, boys sprawled across bunks and footlockers, talking over each other, laughter ricocheting off the concrete walls. But when Coriolanus and Sejanus stepped inside, everything paused for half a beat, the sudden silence sharp and expectant. Then, like a match hitting dry tinder, the place erupted.

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOH!”

The chorus rang out, drawn-out and merciless, voices overlapping into a wall of sound. Every head turned toward the doorway, grins splitting across faces, eyes gleaming with curiosity and mischief.

Coriolanus froze, caught like a soldier ambushed on the field. His hand jerked immediately to his throat, fumbling with his collar, but it was useless. The marks were everywhere, lovebites splattered across his pale skin like a map of constellations, dark and obvious even in the weak light of the overhead bulbs. He yanked at the fabric, tugging it up, but it only made the effort more obvious, his ears going hot with the attempt.

Beside him, Sejanus was no better. He tried to press his hand against the side of his neck, thumb brushing over a particularly vicious bruise blooming just above his collarbone. His shirt hung half-loose, untucked, askew in a way that betrayed everything they’d been up to. His wide eyes darted across the room before he groaned, long and theatrical, and dropped his arm in defeat.

They both sagged in unison, arms falling limp, heads bowing as if surrendering before a firing squad. The sight drew another round of laughter, even louder than the first.

From the far side of the room, Smiley practically shot upright in his bunk, his grin stretching ear to ear. He pointed straight at them, unable to contain himself. “What happened here!!” he shouted, his voice cracking with enthusiasm.

The room howled in response.

“Oh, don’t play dumb, Smiley,” one boy jeered. “Even you can recognize a hickey when it’s smeared across someone’s whole damn neck!”

“Looks like lover boy finally grew some teeth,” another cackled, jabbing a finger toward Sejanus, then throwing a pointed look at Coriolanus, who groaned louder and buried his face briefly in his hands.

“And look at Bullseye!” a third called, his laughter wheezing. “Did you wrestle a wild animal, or did you just beg him to leave you like that?”

That set off another explosion of noise, whistles, hoots, clapping that rattled against the bunks.

Coriolanus’s face burned, his usual icy composure cracking at the edges. He tried to scowl, to summon the same sneer he wielded so effectively in daylight, but the heat on his neck betrayed him. He tugged his collar higher again, muttering, “Shut it.”

The attempt only fed the fire.

“Ohhh, Gent’s blushing!” someone crowed.

“Can’t hide those battle scars, sweetheart!” another chimed, doubling over in laughter.

Sejanus, caught between mortification and helpless amusement, let out a strangled laugh of his own, shaking his head. “You’re all insufferable,” he said, but his voice cracked halfway through, which only earned him more jeers.

Smiley leaned forward, eyes dancing. “So, who made the first move, huh? You or Snow?”

Sejanus opened his mouth to retort, but no sound came out. His ears burned bright red as he looked at Coriolanus, who shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel.

“Doesn’t matter who started it,” another voice chimed in, sly and gleeful. “Pretty clear who finished it judging by who limped in here like that..”

That earned the loudest roar yet, a chorus of catcalls and laughter that seemed ready to shake the rafters.

Coriolanus’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides, but he said nothing. Sejanus exhaled hard through his nose, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. With no chance of hiding, no chance of winning against the pack, both of them stood there like statues in the doorway, branded, exposed, and, whether they admitted it or not, bound together in a way that even their barrack mates couldn’t laugh away.

“Wait, wait, wait, hold on, hold on!”

Smiley’s voice cracked over the racket, cutting through the laughter like a whip. He scrambled down from his bunk with all the grace of a falling sack of potatoes, his blanket trailing after him until it snagged on the corner of the frame. He shook himself free, stumbling once on the landing before bouncing upright again, his grin already splitting his face.

He practically elbowed his way through the crowd of gawking boys, his bare feet slapping the floor as he pushed closer. When he finally stopped in front of Coriolanus and Sejanus, his whole body was buzzing, hands flailing as though words alone weren’t enough to hold his excitement.

“Is this about that dog tag thing I said?? Wear the tag ride the soldier or whatever the fuck?”

The room quieted just enough to hear it, voices dropping into snickers and mutters, the anticipation thick as everyone leaned forward to catch the response.

Coriolanus and Sejanus both blinked, caught off guard. For a moment they just stared at each other, confusion mirrored in the tilt of their heads, like twin reflections. The movement was so unconsciously synchronized it drew a fresh wave of giggles from their audience. Finally, both turned back toward Smiley, faces taut but uncertain.

“I mean…” Sejanus began, his voice cautious, hands fidgeting faintly at his sides. His lips tugged into a small, sheepish smile, betraying more than he intended. “Not entirely, but I suppose, in a way, yes?”

It was the truth, or close enough to it, and that was all it took.

Smiley’s entire face lit up like fireworks. His jaw dropped, and he slapped both hands over his mouth, the sound of a strangled snort escaping anyway. His shoulders hunched as his whole body shook, unable to contain the laughter spilling out of him. “Oh. My. GOD!” he squealed, the words pitched high, muffled behind his palms but still piercing through the barracks like a siren.

“What??” Coriolanus snapped immediately, his voice low and defensive, already bracing for whatever humiliation was about to follow. His pale brows furrowed as he shot a look between Sejanus and Smiley, suspicion and irritation sparking hot across his face. He tried for icy composure, but his collar still gaped around his throat, his marks glowing dark against pale skin. It was impossible to look dignified. His scowl deepened with every heartbeat, his arms folding tightly over his chest as if that might shield him. “What is it?” he pressed, the demand edged with the tiniest note of panic.

Smiley dropped his hands, his grin stretching so wide it nearly split his cheeks. He doubled over laughing, one hand smacking against his knee as the words finally tumbled out. “Boys… I was kidding! I was fucking with you!!”

The declaration detonated across the room like a bomb. The barracks erupted into chaos, shrieks, whistles, howls of laughter echoing so loud it rattled the metal bed frames.

Smiley staggered upright again, gasping between fits of laughter. “Oh my GOD, I can’t, y’all fell that hard for that???” His voice pitched upward at the end, incredulous and giddy, eyes streaming with tears as he clutched his sides.

Sejanus groaned into his hand, dragging it down his face until it hung limply at his chin. His skin was scarlet from ears to collar, the flush spreading down his throat in a way that only made the bruises more vivid. “Oh no… How were we supposed to know!!” he mumbled, the sound muffled, half-laugh and half-mortification. A nervous chuckle slipped out anyway, shaking through him as he ducked his head like a boy caught red-handed.

Coriolanus, however, went perfectly still. His face hardened into something glacial, the corners of his mouth a rigid line. The flush creeping up his neck betrayed him, but he stood stiff and immovable, glaring at Smiley with the kind of venom that could kill. His jaw clenched so tight the muscle ticked visibly, and when he finally spoke, his voice came out low, measured, dangerous. “You’re insufferable.”

Smiley threw his head back and cackled, the sound raw and delighted. He jabbed a finger at Coriolanus, shaking it as he leaned back on his heels. “And you’re predictable, Snow!”

The boys lost it again, clapping, hollering, stomping the floor to amplify the noise. Someone shouted, “Guess Bullseye took that joke real serious!” Another chimed in, “Guess Snow did too!”

“Bet they are still wearing them!” one boy jeered, pointing toward the dog tags glinting against Coriolanus’s chest.

Coriolanus yanked at his collar instinctively, but it only made the chain flash brighter in the dim light, and the barracks roared with laughter once more.

Sejanus let out another strangled groan, burying his face in both hands this time, but he couldn’t stop the helpless grin curling at his mouth beneath them. Beside him, Coriolanus looked ready to commit murder, but the marks on his throat, the tags still gleaming at his chest, and the boy at his side betrayed him far louder than any insult or denial ever could.

The barracks was still shaking with laughter, boys stomping and clapping like they’d just witnessed the funniest thing in the world. Smiley was nearly doubled over, wheezing into his fist, his face red from laughing so hard.

Sejanus finally lifted his head from his hands, still pink-cheeked but unable to keep the sparkle of mischief out of his eyes. He glanced at Coriolanus, who was rigid with fury, then back at Smiley, a small smile curling onto his lips despite the humiliation.

“Well,” Sejanus said at last, his voice low but carrying just enough to cut through the noise. His grin widened, crooked and wry. “If it didn’t mean it before…” He reached out, fingers brushing the edge of Coriolanus’s dog tags where they glinted against his throat, tugging the chain just enough to make the metal catch the light, just enough to make Coriolanus gasp in surprise. “It does now.”

The barracks exploded again, louder than before, a chorus of whoops and hollers bouncing off the walls like gunfire. Smiley threw his head back and howled, clutching his stomach. “Oh my GOD, he just said that!”

Coriolanus wanted the ground to split open and swallow him whole, and yet, as Sejanus’s fingers lingered on the tags, tugging gently like a private anchor in the middle of the chaos, something warm and stubborn lodged itself in his chest. His glare remained fixed on Smiley, but his jaw twitched, and his ears burned crimson.

The noise in the barracks raged on, but it had already started to blur into background static for them. Sejanus’s fingers lingered on the chain, warm against the cool bite of the tags, until Coriolanus finally let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. For all the catcalls and the laughter, he didn’t pull away.

If anything, he leaned closer.

“Oh … Come on,” Sejanus murmured softly, his voice meant only for him now. His smile was gentle, stripped of its earlier teasing, but his eyes still gleamed with something fierce, something certain. “Let them laugh. They’ll get tired eventually.”

Coriolanus huffed, half a scoff and half a sigh, but there was no venom left in it. He dipped his head just slightly, enough that their foreheads brushed, brief, fleeting, but enough to make Sejanus’s breath catch.

Then, without a word, they slipped away from the center of the storm. The laughter followed them, echoing down the length of the barracks, but with every step back toward their bunks, it seemed to dull, fading behind the thrum of their pulse and the quiet rhythm of their footsteps side by side.

When they finally settled onto their cots, close, but not so close as to draw more attention, the silence between them was easy again. Sejanus lay back, still smiling faintly up at the ceiling. Coriolanus stretched out beside him, rolling the chain around his neck between his fingers, grounding himself in its steady weight.

Neither spoke for a while, they didn’t need to.

By the time the barracks quieted at last, their laughter burned out and replaced by sleep-heavy breathing, Sejanus had already turned on his side, eyes closed, his hand dangling loosely between their cots. Coriolanus stared at it for a moment, his chest tight with something he couldn’t name, and then, slowly, he let his own hand fall until their fingers brushed.

It was the smallest touch, invisible in the dark, but it was theirs, and for tonight, after all they’d already been through, it was enough.