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If Geta thought he spoiled his brother before, it simply got worse when they were bonded. Though he still had to stop Caracalla from pestering his fresh mark. Slapping his hand away whenever the other would start to scratch at it. His brother just happened to not be in arms reach this time when he heard the tell-tale scratching.
“Stop it. You’ll ruin it.” Geta didn’t even bother to look up from his tablet at his brother. He should have known it would happen, Caracalla had been too quiet on the other side of the room. He could never sit still for long.
They’re in Caracalla’s room at his insistence. He had been at his vanity putting on his makeup for the day. They had a celebration to attend to for their new union, so he had to make sure his face was done before they were suppose to start. Though he didn’t want to do it alone, so Geta simply sat already dressed waiting for him to finish.
“But it itches.” Caracalla whined, throwing his hands down in frustration. He looked over at Geta, a huff leaving him. He touches the back of his neck lightly, not quite a scratch, but Geta knows he wants to.
“Come here, pet.” Geta says with fond exasperation. He only used the term of endearment when it was the two of them alone. It was sure to always get Caracalla to listen. He motioned with his arm for his brother to come to where he was lounging on the couch. His brother was quick to get up smiling, he knew what he was going to get for listening so nicely.
Caracalla doesn’t bother trying to pretend to hide what he wants from Geta. He sits next to his brother, facing his back to him. He holds the small ends of hair up with one hand. Geta shifts to sit up fully, turning toward him. He watched as Caracalla dips his head slightly. It fully exposes his fresh mark to him. Geta had spent special attention to make sure it would be perfect. That each of his teeth showed so there would be no question to who his brother now belonged to. Geta thinks it looks exceptionally well on Caracalla.
Geta places his hand over his brother’s, not for anything but an excuse to touch him. He leans in close and licks over the scarred skin. Deliberately slow so he can feel each indent against his tongue. Caracalla hums appreciatively with the second swipe of Geta’s tongue.
Geta’s positive it does nothing to actually help heal the area. Maybe the touch soothes his brother’s baser instincts, Geta doesn’t know. Though Caracalla always lets out the prettiest sound as if it does something of use. So he keeps up their little routine. When Caracalla can’t stop fussing with it, Geta would do this to distract him. Better to reward him, than reprimand.
A knock at the door interrupts them. Geta moves away from Caracalla, sitting normal again. Caracalla’s reluctant to move away, but puts his hand down all the same. He can tell his brother is annoyed at the intruder but stays quiet after Geta’s ministrations.
“From the emperor.” The servant says simply, walking up to Caracalla with a tray in hand. He lowers it for him to see the golden fabric placed on top of it. With a cross look Caracalla snatches it, but says nothing outwardly angry. He crumples the delicate fabric in his fist, waving his hand in annoyance to send the servant away.
“I’m not wearing that.” He at least waits before the servant is gone, before throwing the band on the couch. Caracalla gets up angrily, going back to his vanity. His earlier mood ruined by the reminder of his limitations now.
Geta pinches the bridge of his nose as Caracalla passes across him. After bonding all of his brother’s moods now affect him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. The sour turn of his scent, sharp in Geta’s nose, made him grimace. It had reminded him of when their father had found out about their bond.
Geta had been impressed with how quickly the man had found out. The very day Caracalla had come back, but too late to stop what was destined to happen. He always suspected his father knew more than he let on, and kept quiet out of the personal shame he would get from them being revealed. While Geta knew their mother had lived in perfect ignorance. Too trusting in the bonds of brotherly love.
The two of them had been dragged out into the throne room. The boys knelt in their father’s presence. The back of Caracalla’s neck sore and red from Geta’s bite. Only their parents and the Praetorians to try and keep the secret hush already. Their father had already set his sights on Caracalla. Perhaps he had meant to keep them separated longer, but Caracalla had been slippery to find Geta. Perhaps he simply didn’t like the slighter of the two, but his rage had been directed at him.
“Insolent boy.” Their father had spat at Caracalla. His hand lifting to strike him.
Geta felt the sword nick his neck, before he registered he had started to get up. A Praetorian guard placing the sword as warning for Geta not to move. The action caught their father’s attention, stopping him before he hit Caracalla. It was as if he were realizing for the first time what it had meant that the two had bonded. There was a heavy silence between the family as their father took in Geta’s aggressive position.
Geta had never challenged their father before. Though the spike of distress from his brother had him acting before he even realized. He was grateful for the sword between them to keep Geta’s head rational.
Their father had clearly been calculating something as he stared at Geta, before going back to his original action. He hit Caracalla’s face hard with the back of his hand. For his part his brother only let out a hiss at the sting of it. Though Geta pushed his neck more into the blade of the sword. Letting the pain of that distract him from his own distress. He understood his father’s message perfectly. Geta may be an alpha but he still had a place and if he forgot it again, Caracalla would pay the price.
“What am I to do with such embarrassments?” Their father spit out. He looked between the two of them with clear disgust on his face.
Their mother stood silent and stoic behind their father. She cast a sad look between both her sons. Caracalla seemed more hurt from that than the slap from their father. Geta focused on the cut again as distraction from Caracalla. It all left him so raw in the wake of such a new bond. She walked up to their father, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“We’ll pass it off as a show of union. An act to strengthen the Severan dynasty, to show despite presenting they will still both be co-Augustus. Distract the people from-“ Their mother stopped to look between them again. She was unable to contain her thinly veiled disgust.
“From the truth. They need not know the sordid details. The celebrations will be so extravagant they’ll forget what they’re celebrating.” She looked at their father, seeing if that was to his liking. He nodded in contemplation, thinking the idea out. Passing this off merely as a political move than an emotional one. They all knew there was no easily forgetting this, but perhaps a distraction would be enough.
“I want no displays. Do not bring me further shame.” Their father had commanded, his tone grave with an unnamed threat beneath. Geta nodded his head in understanding, wishing no more of his father’s wrath against them. He knew they got away easy because of their mother’s presence. Caracalla glared at the man, his lips thin in a clear show of his displeasure. He stayed quiet though, and that wasn’t enough for their father.
“He understands.” Geta had said quickly, stopping their father from walking closer. He looked angry, but doesn’t strike Caracalla again.
“Make sure he does.” He says as way of dismissing them. And so that day their personal slaves had their tongues removed to slow the upcoming gossip. The brothers had been told very explicitly what was to be expected of them in public. Allowing them only the comforts of privacy to feel truly united.
Geta looked down to the wrinkled golden chocker Caracalla discarded. A representation of their father’s instructions for them. One was that Caracalla was to wear a band around his mark. It was something only unbonded omegas did to hide the temptation from others. He had to do it for the bite mark. So it wouldn’t be an open reminder of their bond. The two both hated the idea of it.
“You must.” Geta says, picking up the piece of fabric. It was soft in his hand. At least their father had chosen one appealing to look at. Still a reminder of Caracalla’s status, no other would wear a band so finely made.
He walked over to his brother with it in hand. Standing behind him, watching as Caracalla delicately placed red on his eye lids. Caracalla looked at him through his mirror but ignored him, refusing to respond. Geta can still see the slight glisten of his saliva on the back of his brother’s neck. He doesn’t allow himself to be distracted by the desire it stirs in him.
Geta stoops down, placing his cheek against Caracalla’s own. It stops his brother from finishing his other eye. Geta looks at the two of them in the mirror. Through it he can see Caracalla look at him from the corner of his eyes, smiling softly, intrigued by what Geta is doing. Even though they’re twins, he doesn’t see himself in Caracalla’s face. Both however are pale from their makeup. Geta with a fine trace of black around his eyes, Caracalla with red along his. He appreciates the way they look together for a moment longer, before he places the gold band loosely around Caracalla’s neck.
He had yet to fasten it, when Caracalla focuses on it. The realization hits his face instantly. Against his cheek, Geta can feel his face fall, his earlier smile gone. His annoyance at it back.
“If you want to attend the party, you must wear it.” Geta moves his face a fraction away, not wanting to further smear their makeup. Though he makes sure to stay close to the other.
“It’s my celebration!” Caracalla complained, looking between the band and Geta. Technically it was both of their’s, but Geta didn’t correct him.
“Then think how silly it would be if you weren’t there. I would miss you.” Geta adds in the last part as further incentive. He knows the effect it will have on his brother.
“Well, I wouldn’t want that.” Caracalla murmurs, he seems to genuinely contemplate it. Geta cant’t help but find it endearing. He knows their father would have forced the band on Caracalla one way or the other. Though it would be so much nicer if his brother thought it were his own action.
Geta kisses his brother’s cheek. He knows he’s gotten what he wants when it earns him a small laugh from the other.
“Very well, but let me finish first.” Caracalla demands, focusing back to his pots of makeup. Geta moves to stand but Caracalla leans his cheek out. He looks at Geta through his lashes expectantly, a smug smile on his face. Lovingly Geta rolls his eyes, giving him one more kiss before fully standing.
When Caracalla is done with his eyes, he joins Geta by the door. Similar to before, he stands with his back to Geta. Unable to control the urge, Geta kisses the mark he left on Caracalla. A gentle reminder that even though they won’t be able to see it, it will still be there. Geta fastens the golden fabric around his brother’s neck. It goes well with the rest of his jewelry Geta has to admit. Though Caracalla isn’t the only one upset to see it covered.
“It’s itchy.” Caracalla whines, already reaching up to scratch it. Geta hits his hand away. He already knows this is what the rest of the night will contain for him. His brother turns to give him the cutest pout at the reprimand.
“Stop fussing. If you leave it alone, tonight I will soothe it again.” Geta promises with a kiss. He holds the back of Caracalla’s neck. Letting him feel the warmth of Geta’s hand against his mark through the fabric. Caracalla closes his eyes, content with the small bit of contact. Geta smiles softly at his brother.
“Come now, let’s go celebrate us.” He kisses Caracalla again, knowing he won’t be able to for the rest of the night. He will have to wait until they are alone again in one of their rooms. So he holds on to the sweet imagine of Caracalla docile against him as he leads them out the door.