* * *
Caesar slept. He always slept alone these days; it was too dangerous not to. Even with his worst enemies Pompey and Xena across the seas, he slept uneasily on cold sheets.
Caesar dreamed. He was naked in his dream, standing in front of Pompey and Xena, who were wearing Roman finery, and paying no attention to him. He cleared his throat.
Pompey smiled and lifted his head. "Caesar. Or, can I call you Julius?"
"Jules," said Xena. "Julie. Juju."
Caesar furrowed his brow, and asked, "Why are you here? Interviewing for the triumvirate, Xena, since you killed our third member?"
"It's your fantasy," Pompey said.
"Why would I fantasize about this?"
"Why, he asks," said Xena, laughing.
Pompey licked his lips and winked at Caesar. "We're so big and strong, for one."
"Oh, please. I made you," Caesar said. "I shaped you both. Gave you power. Took it away. Taught you to wield it. Molded you. Don't you owe everything to me?"
"Blah, blah, blah," said Xena. She ran her hand down Pompey's chest.
Pompey smiled at Xena, and said, "Is this some sort of manly thing, Caesar? Overcompensating?"
"Maybe he has daddy issues. Or abandonment issues. Or, you know...issues," Xena said, waving his hand in dismissal.
Caesar, said, "I have nothing to overcompensate for."
"Prove it," Xena and Pompey said at the same time.
Caesar rolled his eyes. "I'm already naked."
Pompey glanced down in the direction of Caesar's crotch, and said, "Good point."
Despite himself, Caesar felt a twinge in his loins at Pompey's direct, appraising gaze.
"So," said Xena, suddenly behind him and blowing against his ear, "What would you imagine?"
Caesar let his eyelids fall closed, and in his mind's eye he saw himself behind Xena, with her crouching on all fours, with Pompey in her mouth. He felt a surging in his groin.
"What else," said Xena.
He saw Xena behind him, and Pompey in front, gripping his penis with a sure hand. The same soft, Roman hand that wielded soldiers, not swords, stroking him, while Xena, harder, more barbarian, separated his cheeks with her fingers to plunder...
His penis was rigid now, and he reached for it. Xena grabbed his wrist. "Not yet. One more."
Caesar groaned. "It's my fantasy."
"So fantasize," she said.
He saw himself on his back in bed, Xena rising over him, riding him, thrusting her hips against his. She engulfed him to the hilt and dragged her nails down his chest. He could only feel her, hot and slick against him, because his view was blocked by Pompey. He, the future emperor, was being dominated, being conquered, being defeated by people he had so easily, so disappointedly, crushed.
When he woke up, the sheets would be wet, and he would still be alone.
* * *
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