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His Lover. His God. by Darragha Foster
To paraphrase Poe: They loved with a love that was more than love. Hadrian, Emperor of Rome, loved Antinous in life, and after his lover’s death, worshipped him as his god. This is a romantic, fictionalized account of one of history’s greatest love stories. Antinous refuses reincarnation until he can be fully reunited with Hadrian. Almost two thousand years pass before he returns to modern Egypt to profess his undying love to Hadrian’s restored soul. Can Antinous, a god, on the 1892nd anniversary of his passing and ascent, convince an ex-pat tour guide that they belong together…again?
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Antinous had power. Real power. He sat at Hadrian’s side during council meetings. He rode next to Caesar on excursions in the empire. He had helped with the blessing of the wall built to keep the barbarians at bay in the far north of the realm. He had never loved so deeply as he did Hadrian. Every black curly hair. Every scar. Every inch. He lifted Hadrian’s right arm and sponged its pit. A powerful manly odor wafted out from the dark recesses and Antinous breathed it deeply. The aroma of his lover after sex was most enticing. Sweat acted as an aphrodisiac. He trailed the sponge along Hadrian’s barrel chest and tight belly before dropping to his knees to wash Caesar’s cock. He squeezed the sponge over the burgeoning erection, and once clean, he swallowed the member and lavished attention upon it. His act of fellatio was interrupted by a knock on the lintel of the entrance to the tent.
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“Forgive me, Caesar. I must have a word.” The hand that knocked had long planned the action. Counted the hours. Made offerings to the gods for success. The gods didn’t care if the boon requested was one of ill intent. It was the attention they craved—and he had sought to give it to them. The Egyptian deities and the Roman, and even those that were worshipped by both peoples. The owner of the hand made his name and intentions known to them all. Marcus Consus of Rome. And he wished to save his beloved empire from what he perceived to be grievous acts. Only Caesar’s blood spilled could see Rome renewed. He knocked upon the lintel a second time.
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About the Author:
Darragha Foster enjoys the twisted and unusual. She finds inspiration all around her. Even in the cold case at the grocer. Where she is no longer welcome. But that’s another story…
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