Chapter Text
The festive atmosphere could be felt throughout Camp Jupiter; the Liberias would begin that night. The city lights had dimmed, restaurants brought their tables out into the streets, and wine and fruit overflowed on every corner.
I stopped by my apartment to get ready before meeting my friends in a few hours. I rummaged through my closet looking for my toga, having completely forgotten to find a new one “The old Senate one would have to do.” I decided. I left it in my bed and went to take a shower, the cold water relaxing my body after a long day in the Arena.
When I stepped out, I took advantage of my damp hair to style it into a small updo, leaving a few strands loose and framing it with green laurels. I considered wearing makeup —many people use the festivities to experiment with bold looks without fear— but it still felt too foreign to me. So I settled on some red-toned lipstick with a clear gloss over it, creating an effect similar to how my lips look after a few drinks. I smiled at the mirror, my nude body greeting me and inviting me to dress in the boldest way I pleased; after all, why would I not celebrate freedom by doing whatever I want?
I grabbed the fabric in my hands, twisting it around and trying to find a way to arrange it. I could tie it traditionally and add the golden belt to give it a bit of sparkle. I frowned, no, something wasn’t right. I let go of it and placed my hand behind my neck, pulling the fabric to leave my back completely exposed. Much better.
Once I finished, I sent a quick message to the group chat letting them know I was on my way, and left it on the bed, knowing I’d probably lose it due to the lack of pockets. I found my sandals and finally left home.
The fresh air hit my face, the reddish tones of dusk adding to the atmosphere. Music was already playing from different spots, melodies of various styles blending into a perfect symphony.
The first glass of wine arrived in my hand without me even noticing. I hadn’t met up with my friends yet, but there was no harm in starting the party alone. That one was followed by another, and by the time I met up with my people, the fifth was already sliding down my throat like cold water in the hands of a thirsty traveler.
“ Finally we found you! We thought we’d lost you in the crowd.”
I laughed in response. “With this many people, it wouldn’t be a surprise.” I shook my head and set my empty glass down on one of the tables. I felt light-headed, and my vision was starting to blur at the edges. Just a few more drinks and I’d be fully drunk.
“Come on, let’s go, you don’t want to miss this.” I felt someone tug my wrist, pulling me through the crowds. Another drink appeared in my hand, and I smiled thinking about the hardworking spirits, raising a toast to them as I walked.
When we stopped, we were at the center of the garden. A show was unfolding in front of us. Nymphs with bare bodies danced and laughed as music swirled around them. I was captivated by their movements, their breasts and soft, colorful bellies hypnotizing anyone who looked their way. People around me swayed with them, following the rhythm. Faces were already flushed, movements growing clumsier than usual.
My stomach growled with hunger. How long has it been since I last ate today? I wondered, letting go of my friend and gesturing that I was heading off to find something to satisfy my appetite. I got a thumbs-up in response.
I moved through the crowd, hot and sweaty bodies colliding with one another. The moon shone brightly above, casting a new kind of light, revealing couples already overtaken by desire. After all, it’s the Liberias festival desire is part of the mix.
I bumped into someone just as I escaped the throng. A deep purple toga greeted me. Who would dare wear such a pretentious color in a republic like this? I looked up and found a pair of piercing blue eyes. A tattooed arm, marked more than any I’d seen, gave me my answer.
It was our former praetor and hero, Jason Grace.
I swallowed nervously for a moment. “Sorry,” I said, adjusting my clothes; the knot of my toga had loosened slightly. I could feel his gaze on me, studying me.
“No problem, [MC],” he replied, his tone revealing he'd been drinking for a while, probably about as much as I had. “I was thinking of getting away from the noise and finding a bite to eat. Want to come?”
There are two things I must clarify at this point: One, Jason Grace is ridiculously hot. And two, I am a weak person.
“Sure, why not?” I smiled, taking the arm he offered, savoring the warmth of his skin and the hardness of his muscles beneath my fingers.
We slowly made our way out of the crowd, walking now through emptier streets. The last glasses of wine had come to us many blocks back, now being sipped in tiny doses to stretch their life.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” he asked into the air.
“Yes,” I whispered, drawing closer to his warmth. Without the lights and the crowds, the night felt colder than it truly was.
He allowed me to approach, extending his arm and wrapping it around the bare skin of my back. I could feel his fingers gently tracing along my spine. Darkness swallowed our bodies. There wasn’t a soul in sight. The gardens of the Praetoria and surrounding buildings were deserted; the whole city seemed to be at the party.
My focus narrowed more and more onto him. I’d spent the last twenty minutes trying not to stare too much, but that damned purple toga only added to the perfection of the man beside me. The golden thread holding the fabric with such grace, the laurels framing his chiseled beauty with precision.
“Jason…” I whispered. “We were supposed to get a snack.”
“Hmm?” He turned to look at me, and at that moment, I didn’t think about anything else. His pupils were blown wide, leaving only a faint blue ring around them. I could feel the air change instantly between us. The hand on my back pressed harder, fingers dipping below the fabric. The absence of underwear beneath the toga was now unmistakable.
My hands moved to his chest instinctively; if he could touch, I’d claim that right too.
“I changed my mind,” he murmured.
We closed the distance between us, our bodies’ hunger taking over, our mouths tangled in a shameless dance. His weight pressed against me, forcing me to step backward until a door of an unfamiliar house caught me behind it. We parted, panting over each other’s mouths. His head dipped to my neck, breathing heavily, his lips began to move across my skin, sparking electric currents.
“Oh, fuck,” I tried to swallow, but my throat was dry, traces of wine and the taste of his mouth lingering on my tongue. The pressure of his body pinning mine was all I could focus on. His nose grazed my skin as his mouth left a trail of bites. “Jason…” I tried to shift from his arms. Mine slid upward, anchoring behind his neck; one hand traveled to his hair, the other toyed with the golden thread, now feeling its delicate texture, a tug with enough force, and the fiber would give up, letting the offending fabric fall.
“Don’t move,” he whispered in my ear, untangling from my arms and grabbing my hips to turn me around, leaving me facing the unfamiliar door.
A shiver ran down my spine, and a moan escaped my lips at the display of strength. I moved my arms, trying to brace myself somewhere, feeling his erection pressing against my backside. One of his hands pulled my hair, tilting my head to the side to kiss me again. Common sense slipped through my fingers, breaths growing shallower, heavier, saliva trailing from the corners of our mouths.
His tongue moved in my mouth, dancing with mine. I didn’t know where to put my hands, so he decided for me, his free hand grabbing the nearest one and pressing it against the wood.
“I live a few streets from here,” he murmured in my ear, his voice deep, almost a growl.
“Let’s go,” I replied. I turned again, leaving us face-to-face. His hands slid down the curve of my ass, tugging lightly. I got the hint, giving a small jump, letting him lift me into his arms. At this moment, only two thin layers of fabric separated us.
“Well done.” My legs wrapped around his hips, gripping tightly to hold myself in place. The delicate golden thread keeping his toga together was about to give way any second, and I’d savor every moment of it. He held me so firmly that I couldn’t help but notice how his muscles tensed with the effort, his face flushed and sweaty from the alcohol, the faint trails of saliva marking below his lips. But one detail caught my eye: red smudges on his mouth, bleeding over the edges. I recognized it as my lipstick. How it hadn’t worn off by now was beyond me. All I could think was, ‘Is there still enough for more?’ I decided to find out. Resting against his shoulder, I only needed to lean a few centimeters. I left a small kiss. Bingo.
I let my mouth glide, mimicking the same movements he’d made when kissing me; occasionally, I pulled back to admire my work, small red smudges dotting his pale skin.
Finally, he stopped in front of a house. I didn’t have time to take it in, but Jason opened the door and moved through the darkness with the ease of someone who owned the place. Moonlight slipped through the curtains. One of his hands left my body, reaching for something on a table, whatever it was, I couldn’t tell. Another door creaked, and a light flicked on, revealing a bedroom.
He dropped me onto the bed, my toga riding up above my knees. He walked to the bedside table, picking up a bottle of wine, apparently that’s what he’d grabbed during our short journey to the room. He returned, climbing onto the bed, hovering over me. I gave him a drunken smile, grabbing his shoulders and flipping us so I was on top, straddling his hips. I reached for the uncorked bottle and took a long swig.
“What’s a good party without some wine?” he said, sitting up with me on his hips, taking the bottle from me to take a drink himself. A few drops escaped his lips, trickling down his jaw. My mouth watered at the thought of drinking straight from his skin.
I tightened my legs, seeking balance; the world had narrowed to him and the alcohol. His hand moved to my hip after setting the bottle aside, gripping firmly. His lips caught mine before I could say a word. I could feel his hard cock between my legs, and I let out a sigh at the sensation. Without thinking, I started moving my hips, feeling him tense mid-kiss.
We parted, resting our foreheads together, breaths heavy with stifled moans. One of his hands reached my hair, finally undoing what little was left of my bun.
“How far do you want to take this?” His hand slid from my hair to my face, then down to my neck.
“As much as you’re willing to give me,” I whispered against his neck, tugging at the golden thread wrapped around him. The damn thing snapped between my teeth, finally letting the fabric slip from his body.
I pushed him back onto the bed, drinking in the sight of his fully exposed torso. I trailed down his body, leaving kisses and bites here and there, lingering long enough to leave a hickey on one of his pecs—a personal victory. My hands moved faster than my mouth, exploring his body with care, pushing aside the offending purple fabric. They slid slowly down his V-line, relishing how he squirmed under my weight.
I placed a kiss on his hip, delighted by the small mark my lips left. Moving lower, I faced Jason’s cock directly. I gave it a tentative lick; the moan that escaped him was enough to spur me on.
Gripping the base, I stroked him, bringing him to my mouth and taking in as much as I could without triggering my gag reflex. I moved slowly, trying to find a rhythm, but a hand in my hair and just the right pressure shifted the movement from instinctive to guided.
The salty taste of pre-cum flooded my mouth, washing away the last traces of wine. Occasionally, the tip hit the back of my throat, causing tears to well in my eyes; his trapped moans added new sensations. I didn’t know how much time had passed, but at some point, a particularly sharp tug pulled me off him.
“If you keep going like that, the fun will end before it starts,” he said, his voice strained but so deep it sent a shiver down my spine. He shifted, sitting us face-to-face again. In one fluid motion, he untied my toga, the white fabric falling unceremoniously between us, my chest bared in all its glory for him to admire. He laid me back on the bed, giving me a laugh that had no right to sound so sinfully hot. “My turn.”
Mimicking my earlier actions, he trailed down my neck, pausing at my breasts. His warm mouth captured one of my nipples, starting with tentative licks before his teeth joined in, grazing lightly. My body trembled with pleasure, and I knew I was getting wetter by the second.
When he finally grew bored of my chest, he continued downward, leaving increasingly bold caresses, deliberately heading toward my core. His calloused fingers grazed my lips, teasing.
“Jason,” I moaned as his fingers rubbed against me, gathering my wetness. A playful huff hit my stomach. “Please…” I writhed, trying to find some way to speed things up.
I didn’t have to try long. Unexpectedly, I felt his breath directly on my core. A wet tongue slid across me without warning. My hips bucked in response. I didn’t know what to do—his precise movements on my clit, one of his fingers teasing my entrance. My moans grew louder, more erratic, the alcohol doing its job of stripping away my inhibitions. His name felt like a mantra, the only word my brain could grasp. The air in my lungs escaped as quickly as it came. His finger slipped inside, followed immediately by another, stretching me for what was to come. His free hand gripped my hip, holding me in place. Mine alternated between clutching the pillows above my head and tugging at his hair. Each time I pulled particularly hard, he shifted his angle, making my body tremble even more intensely.
A protesting gasp left my mouth when he pulled away, leaving an aching emptiness. When I saw him level with me again, reaching out, I thought he was grabbing the bottle to finish the last sips. But the sound of a drawer opening and a silver packet appearing before me made it clear that wasn’t the case. He put it on quickly while I savored the view. The laurels still sat on his head, now crooked and tangled from my earlier tugging. The faint smudges of my lipstick and stray drops of wine streaked across his torso in a way that should be considered criminal.
He leaned in to kiss me while guiding himself between my legs. The air left my lungs in a flash as he slid inside. We moaned in unison when he bottomed out.
“Gods,” he whispered in a thin, whimpering tone amidst a moan.
He moved slowly at first, letting us adjust to the sensation, but as his confidence grew, his thrusts became stronger, more erratic. My nails dug into his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped marks.
We weren’t kissing anymore, just panting against each other’s mouths, lost in the expressions on our faces and the taste of our skin.
“Jason, Jason,” I repeated over and over. “I’m—” He bit my neck particularly hard. “Jason!”
“Me too,” he said against my neck. “I’m close, just let me—” His hand snaked between our bodies, moving downward, starting to touch me in time with his thrusts.
The orgasm hit like an explosion in my stomach. I must have blacked out for a few seconds because when I blinked, trying to clear my vision, Jason was already pulling out. A plaintive moan left my lips at the loss. He disappeared through a door—presumably to the bathroom—tossing the condom in the trash and washing his hands. He returned with a damp towel, using it to clean me up. I giggled at the ticklish sensation of the towel’s touch.
He set the cloth on the table and lay down beside me, pulling me into his arms. No words were needed for now, so I let myself bask in everything he offered, closing my eyes and drifting off to sleep beside him.