His Woman

His Woman
By Misha

Disclaimer- Not mine.
Author’s Notes- This is probably the highpoint of “Portia: A Roman Tragedy”, I am not sure that Antony and Portia are capable of being happier than they are in this fic. This came to me while playing chapter 13 and I started imagining the Vulcanalia festival in the Tragedy verse and what popped into my mind was very un-tragic. Perfect for Valentine’s Day (and I am glad my muse co-operated). Part of this was inspired by learning that Antony did indeed prefer gladiators for his personal guard. This takes place shortly after “To Be the Victor”.
Pairing- Marc Antony/MC
Rating- NSFW
Summary- During the Vulcanalia festival, Antony and Portia make their arrangement official.

“Are you going to accompany me to the fires?” I asked Antony when he found his way back to my side, done appeasing his adoring crowd for the moment at least, “or should I go find Cassius?”

Antony’s eyes darkened at the suggestion, as I had known they would and he pulled me to his side. “I will accompany you, after all, you are my woman.” It was the second time that day he had made that claim and like before, the words sent a small thrill through me.

“Am I?” I asked, arching an eyebrow, even as I curled into his side.

“You are,” Antony confirmed, “and all of Rome knows it. The Queen Vulcanalia, the most powerful woman in Rome, and my mistress.”

That was new. I had been his lover for months, but a mistress was a different thing altogether. It came with different expectations, but it also meant more power. A successful courtesan had influence, yes, but the mistress of the most powerful man in Rome? There was no topping that.

“I think Lena would be surprised to hear that,” I said lightly, trying to contain the thrill his words sent through me. And the terror. Did I want that? I had once rejected Cassius’s offer to be my exclusive patron because I couldn’t bear to tie my future to one man. To depend on him for my very survival and to depend on Antony would be beyond foolish and yet… I couldn’t deny that there was a part of me that was intrigued by the idea.

“I will deal with Lena,” Antony said carelessly, “throw enough denarii her way and she will be happy to release her claim.” I wasn’t sure that happy was the right word, given how she felt about Antony, but I did believe she would be convinced. “Of course, you would need a new residence, if you were no longer employed by the scholae. There are many fine villas in this city, I’m sure we can find one that pleases you.”

I paused, gazing up at him. “You’re serious.”

“Of course I am,” Antony told me, “you’re mine Portia, you have been since the first night I took you into my bed.”

“Yet you didn’t try and claim me then,” I countered.

Antony wrapped his arm tighter, spinning me so I was completely wrapped in his embrace, uncaring about the crowds around us. Of course, he had kissed me for all of Rome to see, so what was an embrace?

“You weren’t ready to be claimed then,” he told me, his face hovering mere inches above mine.

“And now I am?” I asked breathlessly, gazing up at him.

“Yes, because you have a taste for what I can give you,” Antony told me, “You like the adoring crowds, the feeling of being the most powerful woman in Rome, the access and the influence that gives you.” His arms drew me closer. “And you like the way I make you feel. You know that I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted. Power, influence,” his voice dropped, taking on a low, husky note. “Pleasure.”

His words sent a rush heat to my core. Yes, Antony was very good at pleasure. HIs words were so tempting. I opened my mouth, though whether it was to accept or refuse I wasn’t sure.

However, I didn’t get the chance because Antony suddenly released me and stepped back. “But that is a subject for later,’ he told me, sliding his arm around my shoulders once more, “for now we have a fire to attend, do we not?”

I nodded, letting him lead me towards the area where the ceremonial fires would be lit. Lena had never made me attend Vulcanalia festivals in the past, during my years of training I had been allowed to Roman events, but that was no longer an option for me. I snuck a gaze at the man at my side and knew it would never be an option again.

I found Cassius in the crowd and caught the crestfallen look on his face as he saw me by Antony’s side. I glanced away, feeling a momentary pang of regret for hurting him. Cassius was Roman yes, and he was at times dreadfully naive and out of touch, but he was a good man and he’d treated me well. And he would have continued to treat me well. He would have happily made me the same offer as Antony, except he’d make it an offer, not a demand. He would happily be my only patron, though I knew he would never use the word mistress, just like he rarely referred to me as a courtesan. And yet… The idea of an exclusive arrangement with him had never held any appeal.

“Cassius doesn’t know what to do with a woman like you,” Antony commented, obviously following my gaze, “he sees only the beautiful exterior, not the fire inside.” He nodded his head towards the ceremonial fires and the torches in both of our hands. “You burn as bright as those flames and I suspect, like them, you could set all of Rome ablaze if the whim took you.”

“And do you think it will?” I asked him, paying only half attention to the ceremony, distracted by Antony’s very presence.

Antony smirked. “I certainly hope so.” He tugged on my hand, pulling me closer to the fire. “It is time to make an offering.”

To a Roman God. It went against what I been taught, but hadn’t my mother said the gods were the same regardless of what you called them? Besides, the Gods certainly seemed to favor Rome. Had it been Tsirona who had given Syphax her blessing or Nemesis?

“You will make an offering even though you don’t believe,” I asked Antony in a low voice, well aware of his opinions of the rite of the Gods.

“I don’t need to believe, I just need to participate,” he told me casually, before making the traditional offering of meat and salt. I did not ask what he was letting go of, it was too personal, besides if I asked, he’d likely just shrug it off as he had with the auguries.

It was my turn to make an offering, and I took the meat Antony offered, surprised by the gesture, though perhaps I shouldn’t be. This was part of the spectacle, after all, the First Man of Rome and the Queen of Vulcanalia taking part in the holy rites. I tossed the offering into the fire.

“What did you decide to let go of?” Antony asked me, his tone light, but his gaze was locked on mine as if searching the answer.

“Gaul,” I told him honestly. It was rare I gave a truthful answer, but this time there was no reason for lies. “I am never going back there, the Gaul I remember no longer exists, and it’s something I have held on to for too long. I am not who I was.”

It was true. That girl no longer existed. She had died the day she had been dragged through the streets of Rome in chains, though it had taken me eight years to see that.

Antony looked at me appraisingly, “then we both burned the past, I see. Letting go of those days where we were considered inferior by the elite of Rome.” There was the usual scorn in his voice when he spoke of the Senate, but also pride. So that was what he had burned. It was interesting because as much as Antony mocked the rituals of the gods, he had participated in this particular one in a way that spoke of belief.

But I chose not to comment, instead, I simply smiled. “No one thinks that now.”

Antony grinned as he drew me back into him. “No. The most powerful man in Rome and the most beautiful, influential woman. The most powerful couple in all of Rome.”

We were, weren’t we? I had done some of it on my own, I’d gotten myself to a position where my reputation and graces allowed me to be noticed, but it was Antony that elevated me. At his side, I had the kind of power and access I had once never even imagined possible.

I’d despised Rome and everything associated with it, yet I had also made it my home. At some point over the last eight years, I had become more Roman than Gaul. But I would not be an ordinary Roman, just like I had not been an ordinary woman of Gaul. I’d once been a princess, but I didn’t need that title. I just needed power and respect.

And there was another title that could give me that. Being Marc Antony’s mistress would give me more respect in Rome than being a princess of Gaul. It would make me the most powerful woman in Rome.

“I want something with a garden,” I said suddenly, taking pleasure in the way Antony’s eyes widened. It was so rare to catch him off-guard. “My villa, you did promise me one, did you not?”

He grinned and pulled me to him, kissing me deeply as the fires burned around us.

“That can be arranged,” he assured me once we parted, tucking me into his side and pulling me through the crowd. “Tomorrow we will find you a place, but for tonight I have a different location in mind.”

“Don’t you have more people to win over?” I asked him as he led me away from the crowds towards the street. “I assumed you’d be here until dawn.” Actually, I was surprised he’d stayed at my side during the offering, I’d assumed he’d have had some official role to play.

“The people had me all day,” Antony told me, “tonight I am yours alone.”

His words shouldn’t have an effect on me. But they did. I knew I had Antony’s attention, had had it for months, and often enough that if he had any other bedmates they weren’t getting much from him. However, I also knew that however much he wanted me, he wanted power more and that I came second to his ambition. So the fact that he was abandoning his celebration out of a need for me… It meant more than I was comfortable with.

We walked quickly, mostly in silence, and as soon as we crossed the threshold of Antony’s villa I was in his arms, his mouth against mine.

He steered us towards his bedchamber without ever releasing me. Which was fine for me, because I needed him just as desperately. The passion between Antony and I burned hotter than any ceremonial fire.

Once inside the bedroom, Antony let go of me long enough to tug his clothes off impatiently and then reach for my dress, letting it slide to the floor and then he made quick work of my underthings, so I stood before him in nothing but jewels.

“Garnets suit you,” Antony commented, obviously appreciating the sight of the glittering jewels against my bare skin. “You look like the true Queen of Vulcanalia now. A woman of flame and passion. My woman.” He said the words with satisfaction as he reached for me again.

He led me to the bed, instructing me to sit before he knelt between my legs. His hands cupped my breasts, playing with the nipples as his lips trailed over my stomach and then lower. As his tongue swept over my slit, he pinched my nipple between his finger and thumb, the combination making me groan.

Antony’s licked another wide stripe before darting inside of me, his hands continuing their exploration of my breasts. “Antony,” I cried, using my legs to pull him closer. It felt so good, but then it always did. Antony was very, very good at this.

Encouraged by my cries, Antony continued what he was doing, alternating licking and sucking with plunging his tongue in and out of me, and it wasn’t long before my cries became screams of pleasure, my fingers digging into the bed as I came.

“You should see yourself,’ Antony commented as he pulled back, my legs still over his shoulder, a satisfied smirk on his face, “in all your passionate, untamed glory, just ready to be claimed.”

“By you.” It wasn’t a question, instead, it was an invitation.

I leaned back on my elbows, waiting for his next move. I didn’t have to wait long, only a few seconds passed before Antony moved from between my legs and climbed onto the bed with me, his hand digging into my hair as his mouth claimed mine, his muscular legs trapping mine as he positioned himself above my entrance.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue invading my mouth, just as he lowered himself into me. I responded to both moves eagerly, my hands clasping his shoulders, my tightening around his waist to pull him closer while my tongue met his eagerly. I wanted this. I wanted all of this. I always did.

We moved together, my hips meeting him thrust for thrust. The passion built and built until I felt certain I couldn’t take it anymore and then I fell over the edge, screaming Antony’s name and as I clenched around him, he pulled me closer, his mouth on my neck, and with one more powerful thrust, he came.

He stayed there for a long moment, his weight on his hands, as he looked down at me. I met his eyes with a satisfied smile. He leaned in and kissed me again, long and slow this time, somehow like any kiss we have ever had and then he rolled off of me.

He rested his hands behind his head and then smirked at me, “I have a gift for you.”

“Garnets?” I teased, running a hand over the jewels I still wore. To be honest, gifts did not interest me much. However, as mistress to the first man of Rome, I was sure that the gifts would be plentiful and Antony had shown enough times that he could be generous when it pleased him.

“No,” Antony told me, then grinned, “though, that can be arranged, and soon, but I had something else in mind. Something I think you’d like better than jewels.”

Now I was intrigued. One of the first gifts Antony had ever given me was a knife. I kept it carefully concealed most of the time. It had been a unique gift and I’d appreciated it more than any jewels or pottery, so I was intrigued with what he had in mind now.

“Tomorrow, after we inform Lena of our new arrangement, we will go and choose the newest member of my guard,” Antony told me, watching me carefully.

I rolled my eyes. “I am not sure how that is a gift for me.” I grinned, moving closer to him, “unless you intend for me for them to pleasure me when you can’t?” I knew that would not be the case. He would not go through all the trouble of claiming me to give me up so easily.

His eyes darkened. “Never.” He moved swiftly, pinning me beneath him. “You are mine, Portia. The only one bringing you pleasure will be me,” he grinned, his hands sliding between my legs, “but don’t worry, I intend to do it often.”

I moaned as he pushed his fingers into me, arching my hips towards him for more, but to my dismay, Antony pulled his hand away. “Later,” he promised, brushing my lips with his, “we were talking about your gift, remember?”

“Oh yes, and you were enlightening me as to why I should care about you adding to your guard.” I paid no attention to Antony’s guard, other than to know they existed. Antony often dismissed them when we were together, wanting no one else’s eyes on me. Though, I guessed, as Antony’s mistress, I might fall under his guard’s protection. It was an interesting thought.

“My guard is all former gladiators,” Antony told me with a smirk. “All hand chosen by me. My newest one is no exception, I will purchase him from his Ludus tomorrow.”

I froze as his meaning became clear. He couldn’t…

“I told you I would do what I could,” Antony reminded me, “so I made some inquiries, and while his Ludus was quite reluctant to part with such a prize I can be persuasive, and I thought this made a good first gift for my new mistress.”

So he had been planning this, had planned on making me his mistress. Of course, he had, I realized. Antony never did anything on a whim, and as he’d said, he’d wanted this from the beginning, he had just been biding his time.

“My father would never agree to serve you,” I pointed out, remembering the proud warrior who had been the hero of my childhood. As hard as it was to see him in the ring, a slave, it was even harder to imagine him serving the whims of Rome’s ruler.

“Even if it meant that he could be with you?” Antony asked me shrewdly. “If your father is as smart as you claim, he will understand this is the best deal he will get, and if he cares about you as much as you care about him then he will do it happily because your happiness will be all that matters.”

There was an unusual softness to his voice as he said that last bit and it filled me with warmth. Suddenly I knew he wasn’t speaking only of my father. However I knew better than to say anything because he would deny it and the moment would be ruined, so instead, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down to me.

“Thank you,” I told him, kissing him, pouring all my gratitude into the kiss.

“Anything for my woman,” Antony told me, pride and possession mixed with warmth and affection as he smiled at me. His woman. It was everything I thought I’d never want and yet, as he kissed me again, I realized it felt so right.

As Antony’s woman, I’d have everything I’d ever want, and things I’d never let myself want. Power, position, passion. It was all mine and all because I’d finally allowed myself to be his.

End