Beneath the Colosseum

Chapter Nineteen

The words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you blink, your mind slow to catch up to what he's implying. You feel a flush rise to your cheeks, though whether it's from the wine or the sudden shift in the conversation, you're not entirely sure. The memory of yesterday's bathhouse encounter flickers in your mind, the intimacy of the moment, the vulnerability you had both shared.

You swallow hard, suddenly very aware of the space between you—or rather, the lack of it. The idea of returning to the bathhouse with him sends a nervous thrill through you, but you're also aware of how deeply you've drunk tonight, how different this situation feels. The boundary you had been navigating so carefully seems thinner now, more fragile, and the way he looks at you makes it clear that the next move is yours to make.

"Bathing?" you repeat softly, your voice sounding almost foreign to your own ears, the suggestion hanging between you. You can feel your heart racing, the wine making everything feel softer, looser, and the weight of his gaze adds to the warmth swirling inside you.

Cassius leans back in his chair slightly, watching you with that same calm intensity, as if waiting for your response. There's no urgency in his tone, no demand—just the quiet suggestion that lingers in the air between you both, a thread of possibility waiting to be pulled.

The thought of staying—of sharing that intimate space with him again—makes your heart pound. The bathhouse, with its warm water and the soft, scented steam, the closeness it brought... You're not sure if it's the wine or the atmosphere, but something inside you is tempted to say yes, to let the night stretch on longer, to see where this new tension might lead.

But you also feel the heaviness of the day, the weight of your own feelings mixed with the fog of the alcohol clouding your judgment. The moment feels fragile, as though one wrong move could tip it into something you're not ready to face.

You look at him, searching his face for some clue, some indication of what he's thinking, but his expression remains unreadable—calm, patient, but undeniably focused on you.

His words hit you like a sudden rush, sending a shiver down your spine. "I won't look away this time if you don't want me to," he says, his voice low and deliberate. The tension in the room deepens, thickening the air between you. His eyes remain fixed on yours, steady and intent, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

You can feel your pulse quicken, the weight of his words settling over you like a warm, intoxicating haze. The memory of the bathhouse—the intimacy, the vulnerability—comes flooding back, but this time it's different. He's not offering you the same restraint as before. He's leaving the choice entirely in your hands, and the implication lingers in the air, as if waiting for you to tip the balance.

Your breath hitches slightly as you try to process what's happening, the wine swirling in your head making it harder to think clearly. But you know one thing: the connection between you, the unspoken bond that has been growing, is undeniable now. The tension has reached a point where it's no longer possible to ignore the pull between you both.

You take a slow, deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to gather your thoughts. The idea of being seen by him in that way—without the barrier of duty, without the unspoken rules that have kept you both in check—sends a nervous thrill through you. You can still feel the heat of his gaze from the bathhouse, the way he looked away out of respect, but also the tension that lingered when he did.

Now, he's offering you the chance to break that wall completely.

You swallow hard, feeling the wine loosen your tongue but also amplify the vulnerability in the moment. You meet his gaze, your voice softer now, almost trembling. "Are you sure... that's what you want?"

Cassius's eyes soften, but the intensity remains, his gaze never wavering. "I haven't been unsure of anything about you," he says quietly, his voice carrying the same depth and sincerity he's always shown you. "But this is your choice. Whatever you want."

His words, so steady and filled with respect, give you the space to decide. You realize now that this isn't just about the tension, or the wine, or even the attraction. It's about trust—trusting him to see you, fully, and knowing that he'll honor whatever boundary you set.

You bite your lip, feeling the weight of the decision press down on you, but there's also a sense of comfort in knowing that it's entirely yours to make. The wine, the warmth, the closeness of the moment all swirl together, making it hard to think clearly. But deep down, you know you're not just a servant to him anymore, and he's no longer just your master. The bond between you is something more, something real.

The air is thick with tension, but also with the promise of something deeper—something you've both been tiptoeing around for days, if not longer. His offer is clear: he won't look away this time. But only if you want him to stay.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you let your fingers reach up to the edge of your garment. With a slow, deliberate movement, you ease the fabric from your shoulder, letting it slip down slightly, a subtle but unmistakable sign. The air between you feels electric, thick with anticipation and unspoken words, and in that moment, you make your decision clear.

Cassius's eyes darken, his gaze never leaving yours as he takes in your silent gesture. He stands slowly, the tension in the room building as the moment stretches. His movements are calm, controlled, but there's a quiet intensity in the way he watches you, as if he's been waiting for this—waiting for your signal, your acceptance.

Without a word, he extends his hand, the gesture firm but gentle, an invitation. You hesitate for only a heartbeat before reaching out, your fingers brushing against his. His grip is strong and steady, grounding you in this moment that feels almost dreamlike, the weight of your choice settling over you as he helps you to your feet.

The room feels smaller, the air warmer, as he holds your hand, his touch firm yet comforting. He doesn't rush, doesn't pull—he simply leads, his eyes flicking back to yours as if asking for permission with each step. You follow him, your heart racing, feeling the softness of the moment contrast with the depth of the tension between you.

Together, you walk toward the bathhouse, the memory of your last visit there lingering in the back of your mind, but this time, the intimacy is different. There are no formalities, no roles—just the two of you, moving through the dimly lit corridors, the flicker of torchlight casting long shadows on the stone walls.

The scent of sandalwood and warm steam greets you as you enter the bathhouse, the space quiet and private, with the soft rippling of water the only sound in the air. The candles lining the room create a soft, golden glow, casting a warm light on the smooth stone floor and the large, heated bath that waits in the center.

Cassius pauses for a moment, turning to face you, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure you're still with him, still certain of what you've chosen. His hand, still holding yours, squeezes gently, offering both reassurance and a silent question: Are you sure?

You nod, your throat tight, the weight of the moment pressing down on you in the best way possible. He seems to sense your emotions, reading the slight nervousness and excitement in your expression. His free hand reaches up, brushing against your cheek in the lightest of touches, as if to say, You don't have to rush.

But you don't want to rush. You want to savor this—the quiet intimacy, the shared understanding, the slow unveiling of everything that has been building between you.

Without a word, Cassius releases your hand and begins to remove his own garment, slow and deliberate, as though giving you the space to decide whether to follow. His movements are unhurried, respectful, but there's no mistaking the desire that flickers in his eyes as he watches you. The same tension from before hangs in the air, but this time it's thick with the promise of what's to come.

You stand before him, the warmth of the bathhouse wrapping around you like a comforting embrace, the steam curling in the air around your bodies. The world outside feels distant, irrelevant, as if it has no place here in this private space shared between you.

You meet his gaze one last time, and in that moment, everything between you becomes clear.