Page 124 of Spoiler Alert
With a shaking finger, he pressedsend.
Then, his phone in his sweaty palm, he tapped the number he’d stored in his contacts weeks ago, just in case he ever found enough courage.
Maybe he still hadn’t. But at least he’d found sufficient inspiration and motivation. Enough to do what he should have done years before.
Vika Andrich answered on the second ring, ambient conversation almost drowning out her greeting. She was down in one of the hallways below, no doubt, surrounded by crowds ofGatesfans and gathering information for her next blog posts.
“Vika speaking.” She sounded distracted. “How may I help you?”
“This is Marcus Caster-Rupp,” he told her, his voice hoarse. “I have a few misconceptions I’d like to correct. How would you feel about an exclusive interview this evening?”
There was a long, long pause.
“Hold on a moment.” When she spoke again, her surroundings were quieter. “May I be frank?”
He swallowed hard. “Certainly.”
“I’d feel like it was about time,” she said.
Rating:Mature
Fandoms: Gods of the Gates – E. Wade, Gods of the Gates (TV)
Relationships: Aeneas/Lavinia
Additional Tags:Canon Compliant, Angst and Fluff, Guilt
Stats: Words: 5,937 Chapters: 3/3 Comments: 9 Kudos: 83 Bookmarks: 4
Sparring
AeneasLovesLavinia
Summary:
Aeneas teaches his wife swordplay—and waits for the day she draws blood.
Notes:
Thanks to my beta. He knows who he is.
Lavinia was growing more comfortable with a sword in her hand.
That was true in bed, of course, and he was a selfish enough man to appreciate her increased skill there. But the bed wasn’t where she was growing to trust him, thrust by thrust.
At night, she permitted his caresses and ventured her own, willing but awkward still. That wide-eyed look of shock each time she shuddered and came apart in his arms hadn’t yet disappeared. Her lingering hesitance charmed him, even as her pleasure prompted his.
Under the blazing sun, in the dust, she was a different woman.Clothed and confident, she swung back at him. She parried. Sheengaged.
You must learn, lest I and the other guards of the Latium gate fail, he’d told her.
It was true enough. It was also an excuse, one he refused to relinquish after sparring with her the first time.
Her endearing, lopsided smile bright, she moved her elegant, angular body without hesitation, certain he wouldn’t wound her. Some swords, it seemed, she considered more dangerous than others.
One day, she wounded him instead.
“Tell me about Carthage, husband,” she said as she knocked aside his blade and made an advance. “How did you spend your time there?”
