Marc Antony’s Woman: Come Together

Marc Antony’s Woman
By Misha
Disclaimer- Not mine.

Author’s Notes- I need to write happy Portia more often. It was fun getting to capture this moment between them, the depth of her love for Antony. It brought back how much I loved this scene. The actual scene was 1300 words of transcripts, so this is not a short chapter but I think it’s worth it. Just one more to go after this.
Rating- NSFW
Summary- Antony and Portia finally give in to their need for each other.

Chapter Four- Come Together

A look of longing flitted over Antony’s face at my words. “All you want is me…”

I leaned forward, meeting his lips with mine, teasing him with a quick flick of his tongue, taking pleasure in his sharp intake of breath. But instead of deepening the kiss, he took a step back, putting a polite distance between us.

“It’s been a long night,” he commented, and I couldn’t help but smirk as I thought again of Xanthe storming off angry and unsatisfied, “Would you care to break your fast with me?”

“Of course,” I told him, following him into the lavish dining room.

Antony pulled a chair out for me, then beckoned for a servant. “Wine and food. The best we have for our guest.”

One the servant was out of sight again, Antony took his own seat. Despite his obvious desire to keep his guard up, he took the seat next to me, instead of at the other end of the long table, and his eyes kept lingering on me.

As I pondered my next move, the servants returned, piling the table high with a lavish spread of bread, fruit, and soft cheeses.

“Eat,” Antony commanded, waving his hand over the table.

I eyed the table, as inviting as the food looked, I would rather feed a different kind of hunger, one that had gone unsatisfied for too long. With that thought in mind, I lifted a bunch of grapes off of the table and dangled them over Antony’s head.

“Open your mouth,” I instructed.

He complied, leaning his head back, his lips closing around the fruit with erotic delicacy. It occurred to me how intimate this moment was as I watched him, my hands still holding the grapes over his mouth.

“How does it taste?”

He took another grape in his mouth, chewing and swallowing before answering my question. He met my gaze, his filled with an intense heat but something else, something softer. “Sweet, but not as sweet as this.”

He pulled me towards him, kissing me with uncharacteristic gentleness. I could taste the sweetness of the grapes on his lips. I went to deepen the kiss, but Antony broke it before I could.

He pushed his chair back from the table, deliberately putting space between us once more. It was strange, I could tell that he wanted me, could see the longing he barely disguised and yet he seemed determined to fight it. But why?

Antony gestured around the room as he rose to his feet. “Look at this place. Gold plates and candlesticks. Did you ever imagine eating somewhere like this?”

There was a time when I didn’t even know places like this existed. I thought briefly of my simple village in Gaul, and then, of the two years in the woods when village life had seemed the height of luxury. Yet, here I was. Dressed in silk, eating off gold plates, living a life of the kind of decadence that I once could never have imagined.

I didn’t say any of that though, instead, I gave a delicate shrug. “I never really thought about it.” Which was true, how could you imagine something you didn’t even know existed?”

“I did,” Antony confessed, “I used to dream that one day I’d even get to walk inside one of these grand villas. And now, the grandest one of all is mine.”

His words caught me off-guard. When I’d come in, it had struck me that the villa hadn’t seemed like Antony, but if so, then who’s had it been and why was he living here?

“So this isn’t your family home?” I asked though I was pretty sure I knew the answer, remembering what he had told me about his childhood. Of his father and step-father. Of how he’d never been expected to rise as high as he did, of the scorn the elite of Rome showed him. 

Antony laughed as he took a swig from one of the delicate goblets that graced the table, then, to my surprise, he threw it on the floor where it shattered into a million pieces. “Hah! My family home was a townhouse in the Suburra.”

“Then what–” I began.

Antony cut me off with a smirk, “this is Pompey’s estate,” he waves his hand at the statues and the artworks lining the halls, “everything here, everything in this whole house, are treasures Pompey Magnus chose from the lands he spent his life conquering. And how everything he worked for is here for my pleasure.”

My eyes narrowed at his words, how easily he spoke of Pompey’s conquest. But then why wouldn’t he? Conquest was the Roman way after all. For all that Cassius had put his faith in Pomey, I had not wept for his defeat. I had no personal hatred of Pompey, like I did Caesar, but I had no love for him either because he was the same type of man. One whose reputation and fortune were built on the blood of others.

“Pompey didn’t deserve any of this,” I blurted out.

Antony raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak.

“Everything here is stained with the blood of those he stole it from,” I continued, thinking how similar I was to those people. Only Caesar that haunted my dreams, not Pompey, but I was sure there were those who had heard of Pompey’s defeat and celebrated, their only regret that they wouldn’t be the one to bring the monster to his knees.

Antony grinned, untroubled by my words, and took a seat again, before cutting himself a sliver of apple, as if I had been talking about the weather and not the murder of innocents. “All of Rome is built on bloodstains,” he replied carelessly and then he met my eyes, a hint of challenge in his gaze, “All of Gaul too.”

“We’re not conquerors,” I protested indignantly.

Antony cut me off, “spare me. I was in Gaul for a decade. The tribes killed as many of each other as we did.”

I couldn’t argue with his words. The fighting between tribes had been a way of life. We’d been lucky, until Rome came, the Siochain had only faced the threat of invasion once, when I was but a girl, and my father had easily driven them off.

“It’s how the world works,” Antony continued, “men fight. Men die. The winners enjoy their spoilers for as long as they are on top.”

It sounded so grim when he put it that way and I wanted to argue, but the words stuck in my throat. Because he was right, to an extent, about how the world worked. Even for me, hadn’t I discovered what it was like to have a rival sabotage me and claim my spot at the top? Wasn’t I hear now as a way to fight my way back?

Antony looked around the room, a flicker of disgust touching his eyes as they passed over the golden statues and other priceless objects. “Sometimes I hate this place,” he admitted, “It’s like… a magnet to every self-important man and woman in Rome to beg for favours.”

“The price of absolute power,” I said lightly, trying not to think of the favor I had come to ask. I consoled myself with the knowledge that wasn’t the only reason I was there. I wanted Antony’s favor, yes, but I also wanted Antony himself and surely that set me apart from all the others.

Antony’s face turned contemplative, his knees brushing mine as he shifted in his chair. “I should be happy to pay it, shouldn’t I? But sometimes I can’t stand them all, looking at me like they are tallying up what I can buy or change or do. It’s what I thought I wanted, but…” His voice trailed off and when he spoke next, it was more to himself than me, “Caesar has won. I’m here in Pompey’s villa. I should be on top of the world. So why must I keep thinking of the last woman I should care about?”

My heart soared at the words, knowing he was speaking of me. I was right, he was trying not to care, to keep me at a distance, and yet, that must mean he did care.

I leaned forward, reaching for his face, to draw him closer to me before leaning in and brushing my lips against his. “Who can say where Cupid’s arrow strikes?”

A smile passed his lips at my words, but it quickly vanished, replaced once by that look of quiet contemplation. “Even when you ask me for things, it’s for other people, not yourself.” He commented, studying me. “There’s something so… pure about you and sometimes I just can’t stand it.”

He grinned then and suddenly he reached over and pulled me out my seat and into his lap, the gesture surprised me, given the way he’d been keeping his distance, but I wasn’t about to complain. “It makes me ache to corrupt you,” he declared, his hands warm against the bare skin of my waist, his mouth skimming my jaw. “It makes me ache to corrupt you.”

His words sent a rush of heat straight through me and suddenly, my other reasons for being there were of less importance and all I could think about was how badly I wanted this man. “Antony, corrupt me,” I begged, swinging my leg over his so that I was straddling him. I pressed myself closer to him, feeling the evidence of his need and delighting in the groan he let out.

“With pleasure,” he told me, taking my face between his strong hands and pulling me into him for a firm kiss. His tongue parted my lips with ease, teasing but not taking, just doing enough to make me long for more and as he pulled away, I clung to him, my arms wrapped around his neck.

“I’ve wanted you here for a long time, Portia,” Antony confessed, staring into my eyes.

“You could have sent for me any time,” I pointed out. I’d laid awake some nights wondering why he hadn’t, thinking of Xanthe’s taunts and wondering if Antony was playing some kind of game that only he knew the rules too because he would seek out my company when it suited his path to power, but never for pleasure.

He had only crossed the line once, that night at the Senate, and I knew that that had been unplanned, the spontaneity of it, the glimpse of the real, vulnerable Antony, one of the reasons I treasured the memory.

“No.” Antony denied, “because I wanted this. On your own terms. Not because I paid you.”

As his mouth moved lower on my neck, it suddenly clicked into place, the way he’d asked for signs of affection as rewards, the contradiction between his obvious desire and the way he’d kept me at arm’s length, and his furious anger at the idea it had all been an act on my part.

Triumph filled me, along with deep intense pleasure, brought on both by my new knowledge and the feel of Antony’s lips and tongue against my sensitive skin.

With effort, I pulled away and leaned back before slowly easing the gold chains down my shoulders, noting the way Antony’s gaze followed every movement, the roughness of his breathing as his eyes hungrily took in every inch of exposed skin.

“I have traveled the known world, and you are truly the most beautiful woman in it,” he told me in awe as Lena’s beautiful gown fell to the floor, leaving me completely bare before him.

His hands moved to my hips, pulling me closer to him, as he buried his face in my breasts. I moaned as his tongue flicked my nipple, then his hands moved from my hips to my breasts. Antony’s mouth lavished attention on one breast as his hand played with the other, the combination making me moan.

“You have the most beautiful breasts,” he told me, his breath hot against the skin, “they beg to be kissed and caressed.”

“Yes,” I agreed, tossing my head back. It felt so good. I was well-educated in the art of love, but this… This was something new. Lena had made sure I knew how to give and receive pleasure, but I had never craved a man’s touch the way I did Antony’s, had never felt pleasure so intense I thought I could be consumed by it.

Antony’s mouth moved upward, trailing over my collarbone and up my neck, sucking lightly and making me gasp, before covering my mouth with his. HIs hands moved to my thighs, spreading them and pulling me tight against him, close enough that I could feel the effect I had on him, that I wasn’t the only one driven mad with desire.

“Portia, I want you,” Antony told me, his eyes locked on mine. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Every woman I look at just reminds me of all the ways she isn’t you.”

His words sent a thrill through for me. This was what I had spent months longing to hear. “Tell me you feel the same,” he begged, his hand moving over my bare skin, his mouth claiming mine in another searing kiss.

This was it. The moment I had been waiting for. He was mine for the taking, all I had to do say the word and I’d finally have what I’d wanted for so long.

“I want you to take me right now,” I told him, my voice coming out in a breathy whisper.

Antony set me on my feet immediately, pulling off his toga with impressive speed. I let my eyes run down his nude form, taking in the hard muscles and the scars left over from years of battle, but I barely had a chance to admire the sight before he pulled me back into his arms, his mouth on mine again.

As he kissed me desperately, hungrily, he swept his arm out and cleared the table, sending the magnificent dishes crashing to the floor. Then, he lifted me up in his strong arms, lying me back on the table with surprising gentleness.

“A far better meal than Pompey was ever served here,” he said with a grin as he spread my legs, before kneeling between them. I let out a moan of anticipation, remembering the night at the Senate and the way his lips and tongue had felt against me and how I had spent months aching for a repeat.

Antony kissed his way up my thighs, sliding a hand between as he did so. “So wet,” he mused, “do I do this to you? Is it my touch that has you so eager, so ready?”

“Yes,” I moaned, pushing my hips closer to him.

He slid his tongue over me, licking a wide stripe over my wet core before his mouth covered my sensitive nub. At the same time, he slid first one finger, then another, inside of me, thrusting them with a pace that quickly had me coming undone.

“Ohhhh!” I screamed, clutching onto the table as Antony brought me to life with his hands and mouth. “Oh, Antony!!!”

As the wave of pleasure receded, I reached for him, running my hands over his muscular pack, pulling him up towards me, so that his body blanketed mine, as he got closer I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him hard against me.

“I want you,” I said again, “I need you.”

“Portia,” Antony groaned, his hand digging into my curly hair, his lips crashing against mine in a passionate kiss as his hard length teased my entrance and then, in one smooth motion, he was inside me.

He stilled for a moment, letting me adjust to the feel of him and I let a little moan of pleasure, both from the feel of him and for the moment itself. I had waited so long for this and it felt so right.

And then Antony began to move and I was consumed by the feel of him. He thrust in and out of me at a relentless pace, his hands and lips exploring the rest of my body and driving me to the point of madness. “Antony,” I whimpered as the pleasure built up again as he moved inside of me.

I clenched around him, my fingers digging into his back. Antony kept going, moving at that same pace, holding himself back, seemingly determined to make me come apart completely. As the pleasure built up yet again, I couldn’t hold back anymore. Not just the pleasure, but the feeling inside of me.

“I love you,” the words were half-cry, half whisper, spilling out of me against my will. In this moment, there was no agenda, no artifice, just the depth of my feelings for Antony, and they couldn’t be contained any longer.

Antony stilled for a moment, his eyes staring into mine with a deep longing and then his mouth was on mine again and his hand was back in my hair, tugging on it, keeping me close to him as he began to thrust harder and faster, his breathing becoming more erratic as he got closer to his own peak.

“Portia!” He cried out as he came inside of me, filling me with his hot seed. He collapsed against me, his lips finding mine in a kiss that was less demanding and more sweet.

After a long moment, he rolled off me onto his back, gathering me to him. I rested my head on his chest, enjoying the feel of him next to me as we both tried to regain our breath.

“That was every bit as good as I’d imagined it would be,” Antony told me as he placed light kisses on my ear and then along my neck and shoulders, the feel of his lips on my skin a pleasant reminder of what we had just done and just how skilled Antony was as a lover and how easily he could make me burn with a simple touch. “But would it completely ruin your image of me if I say I like this just as much?” He asked with a smile that was endearingly vulnerable. “Just lying here next to you, neither of us trying to impress anyone.”

My heart leaped at his words and the obvious sincerity between them. I thought of the words that had slipped out of me in the heat of the moment, the confession I had made. I wasn’t ready to repeat it, but I felt it and I hoped he knew that the words had been sincere, just like I could tell his were. Maybe he wasn’t giving me a confession of love, but he was allowing himself to be vulnerable and for a man like Antony, that amounted to the same thing.

“I didn’t expect to you, but I’ve truly come to care for you,” I confessed, turning to gaze up at him. “You can’t know how much I wanted to hate you.”

I should have hated him on principle, but there had been something about him that had drawn me to him from the very beginning, no matter how hard I tried to resist.

“I have a fairly good idea,” he commented, pressing another kiss to my shoulder.

“But you’re so different from what I expected,” I continued you, “There’s so much more under that armor.”

Antony raised a sardonic eyebrow, glancing down at his nude form.

I laughed. “That too.” Antony naked was truly a magnificent sight. “But I meant the rest of you. Your thoughts, your beliefs. You’re not the monster people think you are.”

Everyone kept telling me how dangerous Antony was and I’d gotten a glimpse of that, thanks to Xanthe and her lies, but there was more to him than that and even at his most dangerous, I’d never truly seen him be cruel like Cassius kept insisting. On the contrary, I’d seen the softer side of Antony, the man who truly cared about the people, who wanted power yes, but also wanted to end the power of corrupt men and help the citizens of Rome. I saw a man who truly cared for me and treated me with a gentleness that threatened to be my undoing.

“Let’s keep that our secret,” Antony commented, his arm tightening around me, drawing me closer.

I smiled, “good, that means I get this Antony all to myself.”

The world could keep the calculating, powerful Antony. The one who had risen to the top on pure will. He had his appeals, but that wasn’t had brought me here, to his arms. No, that Antony had his charms, but it was this Antony who had stolen my heart and the fact that few people saw that side of him made it even more special.

Antony smiled tenderly, drawing my face towards his. “He’s all yours.”

He captured my lips in another kiss, pulling me on top of him as his hands caressed my body. I gave myself to his kiss, to the feel of him beneath me, and to the sweet tenderness of his words and the rest of the world vanished.

All that existed was Antony.

**