Julius Caesar

I stood behind Samara as she extended her arms with the gun, pointing it at a soda can, balanced on a fairly near log in the woods. My arms engulfed her as my hands supported her tiny ones.

"What are the other two things?" She whispered and I smiled, letting my eyes scan the surrounding naked trees and yellow, withered leaves that covered the ground.

"I'll tell you later," I whispered back and felt her lean back on me.

Those three things were: shooting, understanding body language, and sex.

Her hair tickled my neck as we both stood, facing the can.

"Now listen," I said, rearranging her fingers correctly around the gun. "Always make sure that the safety is on if you're not going to use it. And make sure it's off and well-supported if you are. And also," I said, reaching for her forearms and extending them properly. "-be ready for the reaction. It'll be strong."

She nodded.

"Now, put your index finger on the trigger," I instructed gently. "And try to aim at the can."

"That's it?" She said, turning her head to look at me.

"Well, no," I smirked. "You'll need several hours and days of practice."

"Obviously."

"Now," I said softly. "-take a deep breath and aim."

She breathed and I smiled, dropping my hands from the gun. "You may shoot."

Her index finger traced the smooth trigger, before she slowly, so very slowly, pressed it. The bullet missed the can obviously and she stumbled in my arms.

"Oh my God-" She breathed, turning around. "-I suck at this."

"Yeah, it looks easier than it is," I said, chuckling. "But I'm sure you'll get the hang of it. Do you want to try again?"

She inhaled deeply as the sound of chirping birds filled our ears before sighing loudly and dropping her arms.

"Already given up?" I teased with a small smile.

"No," she said. "Just annoyed."

"Annoyed?" I frowned a bit.

"At myself," she added quickly. "I mean- why am I even doing this?" She said as I glanced at the gun lying limply in her left hand.

"Because sometimes-" I turned her so that her back faced me again. "-we need a source of comfort. Security. Especially after we've experienced a phase of extreme vulnerability. We need it."

"What was that phase? In your life?" She asked and I felt my heart skip a beat.

I never told her anything about my past or who I was, except for the loss of Audrey and my baby. And I never wanted to. So I kept it short.

"Oh, Caesar," she breathed. "You're so sad."

I chuckled lightly as I allowed myself to be pleasured by her proximity and warmth. "No. I'm not. I am okay."

And I was. I felt content when I was with her.

She then put her hands atop of mine. "But you aren't."

I closed my eyes and smiled before nestling my head next to her neck on her shoulder. I could smell her soap and vanilla perfume. She smelled amazing, it distracted me. Every inch and every detail about her did. The way her hair fluttered by the lightest breeze. The way her slender fingers moved to cover my forearms and hands. The way she shifted, her dress billowing against her knees. And the way she leaned back on me like she trusted me with her weight. Like she really, really trusted me.

I then blindly tightened my grip around her and planted slow kisses on her neck down to her collarbone and back up again as she purred softly and swayed in my arms. I felt the adrenaline rush through me as I smiled in euphoria. She wanted this as much as I did.

I loved the way she felt. The way she smelled. The way she swayed in my arms so effortlessly, yet deliciously.

"How can you be so lovely?" I murmured rhetorically, turning her to face me. She was red, her pupils dilated as she released the lip she was biting.

I groaned, drowning in lust, and then immediately crashed my lips to hers and her body to mine. I kissed her softly, then deeply, then hungrily as I gently pushed her back to a tree.

She was so so beautiful. So soft. So magical. So mine.

I pulled away for some oxygen but was surprised when she pulled me to her by my jacket and kissed me passionately. I felt her hands on my torso, my chest, and then around my neck. Then her fingers slid through my hair and I ignited right under her fingertips.

I let my hands travel up her back. Trace her spine. Down her hips. Up again. Then let my fingers infiltrate her hair. Massage her scalp. Feel her, because I couldn't have enough. Couldn't have enough of her, of this feeling.

I needed her. I so so needed her. I wanted her to be mine. And mine. And mine.

"Mara," I suppressed a moan as she tightened her grasp on my crumpled shirt. She broke away and rested her forehead on mine. I then pulled her waist toward my crotch with a powerful grip.

"I don't like you anymore," she whispered and my heart stopped. "I think I might love you."

And that was all it took to kill my buzz. I moved away slightly and dropped my hands to my side. I stared into her hypnotic eyes, waiting for any sign of dishonesty. A sign of anything, anything, but sincerity. But sincerity was all I found.

"You love me?" I asked in disbelief. More in fear than disbelief.

She examined me more before grinning at her realization. "Yes! I'm in love with you, Julius!"

All I can tell you is that I was caught in a trance. What did she mean she loved me? She couldn't mean what she meant. Maybe it's just in the heat of the moment, was what I forced myself to think.

I smiled at her and pushed back a few hair strands with shaky fingers. Her lips were pink and swollen. Her face was red and bright with happiness. I picked a yellow leaf from her hair and then looked down at her.

"We have to leave." I breathed, looking anywhere but her eyes. "Augustus must be waiting for us."

She then nodded excitedly, took my hand in hers before we made our way out of the woods.

I never said it back.

...

Alexander's POV.

Augustus was happy.

His eyes glowed in joy and his voice was loud and healthy. I was glad but awfully curious. How did he seem to forget about all the pain I'd put him through so easily? How was he so positive, when everything that surrounded him screamed negative? How was he living? Smiling? Laughing?

How was he taking care of me when he was the one who needed the care the most? Why wasn't he weeping like all those who'd been through a heartbreak? Or was he pretending? Pretending that the pain I caused him could be easily forgotten. Pretending that there was light in the depths of the ocean that I plunged him through. Forcefully. Knowing no mercy.

But then there he was, singing and helping the housekeepers set up the dining table like nothing evil or bad ever touched him.

My boy.

"Come on, Daddy-o." He grinned at me from the table's end, wearing nothing but some navy-blue shorts and a worn-out black scarf. Yes, he was shirtless. His concept of winter always amused me. I mean, it was freezing this morning, yet he was almost half-naked.

"Green tea, black tea or black coffee?" He inquired as I sat on the chair at the head of the table.

I stared at him. Augustus raised his eyebrows in response.

"Green tea," I replied. "No sugar."

"Coming up!" He announced, grabbing America's forearm, one of the housekeepers, and headed to the kitchen.

"I'll watch you do it." He was telling America who was vigorously shaking her head.

"Last time, you spilt the-"

"Shush!" He said playfully and America laughed.

I watched both of them disappear into the kitchen until nothing but their fading laughter could be heard.

A new observation: Augustus was becoming too friendly with the housekeepers. It was as amusing as shocking. He'd rather spend his time watching America prepare my tea rather than wait for it with me.

It was saddening, I might add as well.

Oh, and another observation: Augustus took in photography. I watched him one time, stand on the house's roof and take pictures. Maybe of the sunset. Or the treetops. Or the clouds. I'd never know.

My brain was going to explode as you might've guessed. Everything was taking so much time. Finding the documents. Augustus getting over my mistake. Me getting over my exposition in front of Julius. It was maddening.

The clank of the cup of tea in front of me snapped me out of my daydream. Augustus sat next to me with some fried eggs, toast, and fries in front of him on pristine white plates while I had my green tea, boiled egg, and some brown bread neatly arranged in front of me. I reached for a fry from Augustus' plate but was surprised when he dragged the plate away.

"No fries for you."

"But I'm craving one-"

"You just had a heart attack. A cardiac arrest-" He added for emphasis. "I wouldn't want that to happen again." He continued almost seriously.

"But that wasn't because of my diet-"

"Well. It was." He said with a raised brow and a slight shrug. "Partially. You know. Drinking. Fancy schmancy cigars. Etcetera. Etcetera."

I looked at him and sighed. "You can't stop death if it wants to take me," I commented bitterly. "Cardiac arrest or not."

"But we can give it one more reason not to." He said with a smirk as he pointed a fry in my direction. "I mean, you can't jump into an ocean and not expect to get wet."

I narrowed my eyes at him, then gave up. "Okay. Have it your way." I muttered, grasping my cup of tea with a shaky hand.

I hated how my hands shook out of nowhere whenever I was under stress. I could barely hold a gun properly. I brought the cup to my lips and took a sip of the stale, green, bitter liquid anyway.

"So," Augustus started. "Any plans for today?"

I lowered the cup and glanced at him carefully before averting my glance. "Why?"

"Well-" He started and I imagined him smile. "I was thinking that maybe we can go out shooting together? More like, father-son bonding. Ya know- hanging out. Mingle? I'm out of synonyms." He said, his voice slightly muffled from the food in his mouth.

I looked up to find him looking at me. I put on a small smile, looked down, and glanced at my fingers where the rings used to be.

I left them on my nightstand.

"I'm busy." I lied and sipped more tea as my heart hammered outrageously in my chest- he wanted to spend time with me? I wanted him to ask me again. To insist. Maybe I could've agreed.

"Oh," he muttered and I looked up at him. He smiled, the left corner of his lips quivering. "-then another time."

My smile dropped in disappointment, but I picked it up anyway. "I'm always busy, son."

Augustus nodded slowly and looked down at his plate. I didn't fail to notice how his hold tightened around his fork. I cleared my throat and placed my cup of tea back on the table, feeling my appetite shrink to nothing.

"Well," my son said, swallowing. "-we can always do this whenever you're free. Just hit me up!"

"Right," I forced the words out of my mouth. "I will."

I looked away before hearing the scraping of a chair. Then a heavy sigh.

"Cool." He was muttering when I looked up at him. He was still smiling.

It angered me. His smile angered me. He then called Miranda, another housekeeper, and together they left the dining room. Leaving me. Alone.

When I could no longer hear their footsteps and laughter, I got up and swept everything off the dining table. No. I lied to you. I wasn't angry. I was sad. I was so very sad and couldn't do anything about it and that angered me.

I stormed out of the room, ignoring the mess I made and left the bloody house.