Chapter Text
"Thank goodness that's over," Kal said once they'd arrived home from dinner at Apollonia's. Kal shut the door behind them and sagged against it, snow dusting his overcoat.
"It wasn't that bad," Marcus protested. He hung up his own coat and held out his hand for Kal's. Their quiet, dark townhouse felt wrapped in wool after the long day of the press of formalities, Apollonia's noisy children, and Antony's unceasing good cheer. Marcus and Kallius had been pressed into taking the younger children guising, so that the neighbors would be introduced to Kal as an uncle despite the paper animal masks and all. At least Kal had had the reprieve of disappearing somewhere with Mayke for an hour late in the day.
Kal gave him a look but allowed Marcus to help him off with his overcoat. "Your sister gave me a laundryman sigilla," he said, taking the cursed little clay figure out of his coat pocket. Marcus took it from him and set it on the little table they kept in the foyer for deliveries. He'd have the little figurine sold back to a sigillaria dealer in the new year.
"It's traditional for the first Saturnalia after marriage, that's all," Marcus said, even though he'd winced when Kal had opened it. He was fairly sure Apollonia only meant it in the traditional way, as a well-wish for the happiness of the household, but he was also fairly sure she knew how Kal would take it. "She still gives me a donkey sigilla every year," he said. It was supposed to be a wish for hard work and dedication, but, well, it was still an ass.
Kal snorted an indelicate laugh and brushed a kiss across Marcus' cheek. "We're having wassail," Kal said, taking Marcus' hand in his to lead him through the dark house. Marcus wasn't sure what to feel that Kal hadn't protested again that they weren't married.
Kal lit only two of the lamps in the parlor, so that the divan was in a pool of soft light that caught on the pine boughs and tinsel hung in the dark corners. Marcus had thought to finally skip the decorating for once, since it wasn't as though they had children or hosted the family dinners, but Kal had insisted. And watching him lean back on the divan in just shirtsleeves and waistcoat with his stocking feet on the cushion as Marcus served them both wassail from the stone jug Kal had left by the fireplace, Marcus couldn't really begrudge him the decorations. Kal had never really been allowed in the family parlor or dining room that were decorated, and Marcus had always preferred to have his rooms quiet in the rush of the holiday week. He'd just never thought about that it meant Kal never had much of a holiday except for whatever went on in the kitchen.
Kal gave him a radiant smile when Marcus handed him his wassail, oblivious to all that. Marcus picked Kal's stockinged feet up and put them on his own lap, squeezing Kal's ankle. He was so pretty in the soft light, all relaxed lines in his waistcoat and shirtsleeves. Marcus rubbed his feet, taking in all of him in the gold light. The noisy press of the day didn't seem so bad with a bit of warm alcohol and some quiet.
"We should go upstairs," Kal said after a bit, not making a move to get up. He switched feet in Marcus' hands.
"I–have something for you first," Marcus said, setting down his empty cup. Properly, only spouses gave gifts to each other and benefactors gave gifts to dependents; friends and family gave sigilla figures as tokens of equality. No desultory little sprig of holly had appeared in their house the whole week of Saturnalia, leaving Marcus unsure how Kal would take it if Marcus gave him anything. Too much like putting a name on what they were one way or another.
"You didn't say you'd gotten anything," Kal said carefully, watching Marcus pull out the large flat box from where he'd stashed it under the divan.
"I–wasn't sure if you wanted anything," Marcus said, setting it on the low table at Kal's side. "You never liked Saturnalia much." Kal had always been unfailingly dutiful, of course, but he'd never much liked any of the jewelry, perfume, or silk nonsense Marcus had bought, to the point that he'd always made sure to include an orange tied with ribbon so he'd be sure Kal would be happy about at least one thing. But part of the point of Saturnalia was to confirm all the steps of hierarchies they were stuck in, so he'd always felt obliged to find some sort of expensive nonsense.
Kal looked down at the cup of wassail in his hand. "You were always–very tense," he said carefully.
Marcus sat with his hands between his knees so he wouldn't twist them together fretfully. "I just wanted to make you happy," he said stupidly. He'd been so unmoored by his own dissatisfaction that controlling Kal's emotions had seemed more attainable.
Kal gave him half a smile and tipped towards him on the divan, brushing lips across Marcus' cheek again. "I know that now," Kal said, and Marcus' stomach twisted uncomfortably with the confirmation that Kal hadn't known it then. His hand was warm on Marcus' knee and he didn't dwell over it, very pointedly turning to the box.
Kal made quicker work of the wrapping than he'd used to but he was still just as careful, setting the paper and ribbon aside. And if he didn't glance at Marcus, Marcus could still feel Kal's attention on himself more than the box itself.
But when he finally set the lid of the box aside, Kal just stopped and looked at the thing inside it.
"You don't have to wear it," Marcus said quickly. "I wasn't sure what size to make, and if it doesn't fit, or you don't care for the color–"
"You made this?" Kal said, holding up the cardigan to examine it. It was a dusty blue, thick and homely, the kind of thing worn by pedagogues and librarians and not at all Kal's dapper usual except that he always stole Marcus' ratty wool dressing gown. "I didn't know you could knit."
"I–yes," Marcus said stupidly. He hadn't made anything for years, since his sisters rarely wore what he made and it was only proper to give such things to family or a wife. So he'd stopped trying soon after finishing school, and Kal was neither family nor a spouse. "I just thought–the studio gets cold, and you said you never have enough pockets, and–"
"Marcus," Kal said, leaning in to kiss him. Marcus blushed to the roots of his hair as Kal shrugged the sweater on over his waistcoat, buttoning up a few of the middle buttons. It was too big in the shoulders for him, but the blue complimented his eyes and Marcus had somehow managed to get the sleeves the right length.
"Do you like it?" Marcus asked, trying to pretend he wasn't anxious.
Kal looked up at him from where he'd found the orange Marcus had put in one pocket. "You're terrible," he laughed, leaning in to kiss Marcus again. "It's lovely. Come upstairs," Kal said, finally tugging Marcus to his feet insistently.
The sweater looked good on him, Marcus thought, the rolled collar softly framing Kal's face. Kal blew out one silver oil lamp and led Marcus up the stairs with the other, hand in hand. Kal had never used to touch so much and had certainly never taken Marcus' hand before. Kal had never done much beyond what he was obliged to before, never the first one to kiss, never the one to initiate sex, always a little piece of himself held back where Marcus couldn't reach even though–because–he'd been so greedy to have all of Kal all to himself. Like the obligatory little sprig of holly every year, Kal had always done exactly what was required of him and no more. Protecting what little he had for himself like the marbles and candies he'd never stopped worrying Marcus would take away.
Kal cut short that terrible line of thought by guiding them into Marcus' study rather than continuing up to bed. He gave Marcus a sideways little smile under his lashes before releasing his hand with a squeeze to step out of the doorway.
In the study, leaning against the wall across from his desk, were framed playbills and broadsides from every play Marcus had ever written. "How did you–" Marcus started, taking a few steps into the room.
Kal stepped close behind him, hand on Marcus' waist and lips brushing his neck, just over Marcus' cravat. "Your agent helped me track them down. I didn't think you'd want them hung in the parlor."
"No," Marcus agreed, in something of a daze. "This must have taken you months." Nearly as long as Kal had even known about the plays, Marcus guessed. The thought of Kal going to all that trouble overwhelmed him.
Kal just hummed in answer, neither confirming or denying. He put an arm around Marcus' waist from behind and rested his cheek on Marcus' shoulder, an affectionate little gesture he'd never done before. "Come to bed?" he said, slipping a hand under Marcus' waistcoat to rest warm fingers there.
Marcus turned in his arms to kiss him, taking Kal by surprise from the soft little noise he made. Kal hooked arms around Marcus' neck, letting Marcus walk him backwards towards the door as they kissed, Marcus' cold hands between Kal's sweater and his warm body. "The lamp," Kal said against his mouth before Marcus could get too much more ambitious.
Kal's cheeks were pink when he pulled away to fetch the lamp from where he'd left it on the desk, and he patted Marcus on the ass with a little smile as he passed. Marcus put a hand on his narrow waist to follow him upstairs.
Marcus tried to kiss him again once they were up the stairs, anything to keep from getting stuck in his own head and dwelling on the past again. But Kal pulled away to set the lamp and the orange on the nightstand and disappeared into their dressing room with a little smile. Marcus sat on the edge of the bed with a huff to undo his cravat and sleeve cuffs. He would have preferred to undress Kal himself, take time kissing warm skin as he pulled away each layer, but Kal had firmly shut the door between them.
And then Kal stood framed in the doorway wearing nothing but jewelry and a piece of dark blue silk pinned like a chlamys, like a statue of Mercury. He'd lined his eyes.
"Fuck, Kal–" Marcus started as Kal padded towards him on bare feet, gold bracelets and anklets catching the light. He wore earrings in both ears, a set of opal and pearl drops Marcus had brought home one spring without thinking much of them. When he knelt at Marcus' feet, Marcus could see he'd put a gold ring in one nipple. The other piercing must have healed. "You know I'd never ask you to do this," Marcus said, putting a hand on Kal's cheek. The makeup made his eyes look huge and luminous in the lamplight.
"That's why it's a gift," Kal said, turning into Marcus' hand. "And it's just guising," he said, glancing down before he looked up at Marcus again. Like wearing a paper animal mask to go sing carols and ask for candies. Being someone they weren't just for a bit, a game for the holiday.
"If you're sure," Marcus said, slightly breathless.
Kal rose up on his knees to kiss then, much more forceful than he'd ever been on his knees before. Marcus kissed him greedily, fingers twisted in the slippery silk pinned around his shoulders as Kal held him in place with a hand in his hair. Kal smelled like spicy wassail and sandalwood, hands strong and sure as he started to undo the buttons of Marcus' trousers.
Kal stroked him through the fabric as they kissed, hands warm and sure. He pulled away to sit back on his heels, temple against Marcus' thigh and looking up at him with beautiful lined eyes as he finished the buttons. He'd done that before, giving Marcus that same adoring look that made him feel like the center of the world, and Marcus couldn't tell how much of it was performance just then.
Marcus' brains very briefly managed to put words together when Kal leaned in. "I want you," Marcus said when Kal looked up at him, breath hot through the fabric. Marcus gave him a hand to pull him up to the bed.
Kal winced as Marcus helped him up. "My knees aren't what they used to be," he said with an apologetic little smile, making Marcus' stomach twist thinking how little would have changed between them if the annexation had never happened. Kal cut that thought off, bullying Marcus up to sit against the headboard. He put hands on Marcus' shoulders and straddled him with a smile, combing fingers through Marcus' hair to kiss him.
"Marcus," Kal said, in the exact same tone he'd used to say master, and Marcus hated the way it went straight to his cock. Not enough to hate the smug smile that said Kal knew exactly how well it worked, and Marcus hid his face against Kal's throat.
"I want–" Marcus started, mouth against Kal's skin as he fumbled with the pin holding the silk chlamys around Kal's shoulder.
"Hmm?" Kal said, rolling his hips.
Marcus finally undid the pin and set it carefully on the night table, the silk whispering off Kal's shoulders. Kal had put on layers of necklaces, pearl and delicate gold chains, but nothing that sat close around his throat like a collar. Marcus pulled the silk away and smoothed hands down Kal's back and thighs, feeling muscle move under warm skin. "I want to watch you," Marcus said finally.
Kal took a sharp, minute breath, a little misstep in his usual careful facade. Marcus half expected him to shrug on some act like a coat, to make a joke about guising or retreat behind the old familiar screen of obedience, and for a moment Marcus worried he'd misstepped. "Alright," Kal said instead, shockingly frank compared to the way he'd used to flirt.
"I just want to know what you want," Marcus said, kissing across his shoulder.
Kal leaned back biting his lip, balanced with one hand behind him on Marcus' knee. Marcus had never told him to do this before, Marcus having preferred to think that he knew exactly what Kal liked, but he was sure that if he had, Kal would have made a very pretty show of it. Kal would have watched Marcus the whole time, gauging his reaction to see what Marcus wanted him to like and then done exactly that regardless of what Kal himself actually wanted.
It was something of a relief, then, that Kal closed his eyes, still biting his lip as he began to stroke his cock. Marcus pet his bare thighs, smoothing hands over the hard muscle. He could see Kal's eyes move under closed lids, Kal's hand slow and sure as the lamplight caught on his bracelet. Marcus kept his hands where they were, resisting the urge to ask Kal what he was imagining. Leaning back, head tilted a bit to the side with the long line of his throat exposed and all the jewelry he was so much more at ease than he'd ever been before the annexation. His hand moved slowly, head of his cock just barely visible as he stroked himself with a fine line between his eyebrows as he concentrated.
He caught Marcus watching, Kal suddenly taking a deep, shuddering breath when he opened his eyes. He tipped towards Marcus, taking Marcus' hand in his to wrap around his cock, Kal's hand over Marcus'. Marcus nearly couldn't look at him as Kal rested his forehead against Marcus', eyes still open and now watching Marcus' reaction intently, close and too intimate.
Marcus resisted the urge to hide his face against Kal's shoulder again, feeling like he was the one vulnerable and on display for all that he was still clothed with Kal naked in his lap but for jewelry. Kal panted harshly as he kept his hand wrapped over Marcus' tight and too fast. Marcus would have liked to stroke him slowly, make it last, but he'd told Kal he wanted to see what Kal wanted and–
Marcus came with a shuddering breath when Kal kissed him suddenly, body buzzing under Kal's warm weight and the heat of his look as Marcus arched under him, Kal having only barely touched him. Kal kissed him greedily, fingers digging into Marcus' shoulder as he rocked into Marcus' hand. He spilled over both their hands, cock throbbing.
Kal, wicked as he was, pressed his come-covered fingers to Marcus' mouth to lick, giving him a hooded look as Marcus lay back against the headboard and let him. Kal watched him, lazy and intent, the pearls and opals all but glowing in the lamplight. Marcus hummed, lazy and selfish, when Kal set about fully undressing him with efficient hands. Marcus only moderately made a nuisance of himself, kissing Kal when he finally slipped out of Marcus' lap so Marcus could kick out of his trousers.
Kal discarded all the jewelry in a pile on the night table, careless as he'd never been. Marcus lay on his back with one arm under his head to watch him wipe the makeup from his eyes with the hem of Marcus' discarded shirt. It might stain but it would never be visible when Marcus wore it, just a smudge only the two of them knew about.
Marcus pulled him back as soon as Kal was finished, selfish and greedy for the way Kal draped himself across Marcus' chest. Marcus pulled the down duvet up around them, breathing in the warm smell of him. "You're such a treasure, what did I ever do to deserve you?" Marcus said.
"Not much," Kal said, startling a laugh out of Marcus.
"Well," Marcus said, reaching to pinch out the lamp. "I'm grateful you put up with me anyway." Kal smiled against Marcus' chest in the dark, the orange waiting on the night table for morning.