quigonejinn

Apparently, the way to writing fanfiction is to complain, at length, to

artyartie about not being able to write any.

Fewer years separate Antony and Brutus than you might suppose, and their courtship is easier because of it: Brutus is invited to a drinking party. He goes because he likes drinking and excitement. Antony has not been invited; he goes because he, too, likes drinking and excitement. He also wishes to make a point. Antony is still young, though, not having gone to war in either Asia or Gaul yet, and the guests and hosts are able to freeze him out.

Antony makes an uncomfortable exit. Brutus arranges to be in the courtyard at that moment.

A message passes between them.

...

When they are alone, Brutus kisses Antony. The room is low and dirty, lit by two lamps set in the wall, but along with teeth and elbows, Brutus gives up plenty of tongue and heat. In fact, Antony's mouth tastes sharp and bitter -- wine cheaper than what had been served at the drinking party. He must have gone drinking somewhere else afterwards, Brutus decides, and they wrestle on the floor. , Brutus has, if anything, more training with better teachers at the gymnasium, but Antony has size and reach and natural talent. Brutus ends up, panting and stomach-down, on the narrow couch.

"That's too much," Brutus says. He can feel the oil running down his legs. There is some on his stomach, some on his cheek. It is warming on his skin where Antony had touched him, in contrast to a place on his neck where Antony had just kissed him, and there are sounds while Antony puts his clothes away. The clink of a worked belt. A tunic being dropped on the floor. All come from further away and after a greater period of silence than Brutus expected: Antony must have been standing off and looking for a while, Brutus guesses, though the room is small and terribly lit. Brutus closes his eyes.

He refuses to reach down and wipe some of the oil off, and after a while, Antony comes closer.

"There's too much oil," Brutus repeats.

There's a moment of silence, and then, Antony says, "Well, I've got too much cock."

Antony laughs at his wit; Brutus doesn't, and then, Brutus can, indeed, feel Antony's cock against his back. Antony puts a hand on Brutus's shoulder; out of the corner of his eye, Brutus sees the ring on it. Gold. In terrible taste.

"What does Terence say again?" Then Antony puts a finger inside Brutus, turns it around, and Brutus has to close his eyes and tell himself to breathe. "In the morning I used to observe the servant-boys -- "

...

In a rough camp in Gaul, Brutus says, "I don't know how you tolerate that man."

Caesar takes a moment before answering. He has years of experience watching both of them, and he says, only smiling a little, "He likes to fight."

Yeah, it's this bit from the beginning of season 1 where Antony rolls up and Brutus's body language goes totally haywire even before Antony smacks Brutus in the back of the head, but in all truth, this is actually fanfiction to fanfiction more than anything --

babel's Rome fanfiction in general and Cloaks in particular.

The quote is from Terence (of 'Nothing human is alien to me' from the title), and it's from his play Andria. Here's the text from Perseus with the quote:

SIMO Meanwhile, three years ago, a certain woman from Andros removed hither into this neighborhood, driven by poverty and the neglect of her relations, of surpassing beauty and in the bloom of youth.

SOSIA Ah! I'm afraid that this Andrian will bring some mischief.

SIMO At first, in a modest way, she passed her life with thriftiness and in hardship, seeking a livelihood with her wool and loom. But after an admirer made advances, promising her a recompense, first one and then another; as the disposition of all mankind has a downward tendency from industry toward pleasure, she accepted their proposals, and then began to trade upon her beauty. Those who then were her admirers, by chance, as it often happens, took my son thither that he might be in their company. Forthwith I said to myself, " He is surely caught; he is smitten." In the morning I used to observe their servant-boys coming or going away; I used to make inquiry, "Here, my lad, tell me, will you, who had Chrysis yesterday?" for that was the name of the Andrian.

I THINK THAT QUOTE IS LONGER THAN THE WHOLE STORY.