"Are you sure," Quintus Verus asked with as much concern as he could muster, given Otha's hand on his cock, "that you're not the vanguard of forces that will one day topple the Empire? Y'know, fire, burning, that sort of thing? Maybe a spot of pillaging?"

The flaxen-haired girl opposite him just smiled her usual smile, a silly little twinkle in her eye. Like always, really, in the afterglow. Quintus Verus thought to himself. Despite her still not-quite fluent Latin, and the undeniable confusion she sometimes displayed when she accidentally wandered into his workroom, there was something too innocent to Otha to really be considered dangerous. Unless one considered a distressing amount of time spent plowing things other than fields dangerous, that is, but Quintus Verus had long ago committed himself to a life spent less in squeezing out every last bit of wheat from his fields, and more to enjoying the scraps of time alive the gods had seen fit to bestow upon him.

Their meeting had been unconventional, to say the least. It's not every day a tired man on his way home from scurrying about the frontier in the pay of the frumentarii meets a lost girl in the woods, after all, and certainly not one with the unique charms of Otha. Otha, she'd offered, her hand extended to him as he'd finally found a road going somewhere, and his heart had done a little flutter in his chest.

She'd been every bit as lovely back then as she was now, Quintus Verus recalled - guileless sweetness on her face and a few simple garments that had seen more wear than was decent, and bright blue eyes that would be the envy of the noblewomen that flittered around the forums at home. Hands, too, his mind helpfully supplied, as a soft groan escaped his lips, that know how to do just about anything, although her touch with an axe was far from his mind at the moment. Yes, Otha had her charms - a bright mind that leapt to learning, a voice that would make the Muses cry, and...

Something warm and full pressed slowly against Quintus Verus's side, and Otha's satisfied smirk shone in his gaze before he turned it downward.

Ah, yes, the other reason he'd spotted her from so far away, that day. The other II reasons, even.

Otha was, Quintus Verus had to admit, blessed, with a shape that would make Venus blush. Particularly when it came to the way her breasts swelled and hung, their curves and tips fit to make his hands feel empty at the thought.

Sure, his friends were all concerned, what with the shameless display the two of them made in public, and the sheer novelty of a man in his position taking up with a foreigner, but it wasn't so bad. Not like this, just the two of them in bed, smiling and sharing time. He might have had to go to the capital tomorrow, and make a handful of reports, but for now, Quintus Verus was content.

Rome can wait, he thought dreamily, as his hands filled with Otha and his lips found hers. It'll be there tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, and so on down the ages...

Otha, from her heat, he could tell, could not.

The pun just popped into my head and I had to write something about it. I'm pretty sure I have a mischievous little goblin of a muse, bouncing her butt on some stupidly-colored dildo, who positively cackles as she pushes me to write dumb, punny shit, but...

Huh.

That's not actually such a bad thought itself, is it?

DPP Profile