Chapter 3.1 - Crossing Swords

 

Billy supposed he should say something before he got too carried away, but considering Serge was already literally carrying him away, the point was probably moot.

The stucco house abutting the amphitheatre may as well have been a bordello for all Billy knew. A group of gruff men flanking the entrance saw Serge and let him pass, one of them giving out a hearty-wolf whistle. They knew who he was, and, even more importantly, what he was doing with that handsome man in his arms.

“Wait, what about Bren?” Billy asked, afraid he’d just snatched his new friend’s gym crush right from under his nose. Billy’s eyes adjusted from harsh sun to the romantic, twilit ambiance of braziers and incense.  “And don’t you dare say, ‘who’?”

Serge laid Billy down on a Roman-style lounge, cushioned with pillows. With a deep-bellied sigh, Serge tossed his laurel crown to the corner of the room. The chamber ceiling was low enough that Serge, presently undressing, had to stoop low enough not to bump his head against it.

“I know well the man, and admire him dearly,” Sergius told Billy. He removed his arm bracers, shin guards, and helmet, dropping them onto a pile of rugs and bedding next to the couch. “And if gray-eyed Minerva has granted Brennus any wisdom whatsoever, he will know to lay down his weapon and cease his foolish aspirations.” Sergius plucked a small, clay pot from the ground and placed it on the adjoining table, on which sat a bowl full of plump, delicious grapes, and dates.

Billy couldn’t decide if he was hungrier or hornier. Serge decided for him. “Raaagh!” the enthusiastic gladiator roared, reminding Billy of a certain cave dweller he knew. He grabbed Billy’s jeans and began eagerly tugging on them. “Forget this talk of my would-be-apprentice. Your countenance stirs my loins, small friend! Hmmm…you dress in the finery of a distant land. How do I remove such beautiful vestments?”

Billy gladly helped him, undoing his top button and unzipping himself. Serge appeared quite fascinated by the concept of a zipper. “Yes, yes, I am totally about this. What is this place, by the way? Some kinda’ Roman love hotel?”

“This is where the nobles take us gladiators,” Serge said with a sly wink, tugging Billy’s jeans off. Billy heard his phone, safely tucked inside the rightmost pocket, fall to the ground with them. “Should enough denarii cross an editor’s hands, we gladiators sometimes give our audiences…private demonstrations.” Serge laughed, his belly and pecs jiggling with his musical baritone. “By which I mean, FUCKING!”

“Yeah, I figured that out pretty quickly. So, you mean to tell me that you’re basically pimped out?” Billy bluntly surmised.

This did not seem to bother the handsome Roman in the slightest. “Indeed. You, however, will receive me, ex gratia. My treat.”

Which, of course, was great, but Billy still felt slightly guilty about the ordeal, knowing Bren’s affections for the literal, Roman god looming over Billy at present. “Sure, sure. Thing is, Serge, I’m a tad worried about you and your fr—”

Whatever Billy meant to say no longer mattered. Maintaining his cheery smile, Sergius tore away his breechcloth. His thick, uncut, Roman cock unfurled itself like an Olympian descending from the heavens in a cloud of soft, black bush. Billy clamped his hand over his mouth, in awe of Serge’s…sword, joining him in his nudity by taking off his jockstrap.

The Roman eye-balled the curious undergarment for a moment, considered it with a thoughtful sniff, and then tossed it over his shoulder. “Enough talk, small friend,” he said, pinning Billy’s hands to the couch and began by rubbing his beard across his newly won ‘prize’s’ neck, stoking the fire. He glanced down briefly, with immense satisfaction. “Though it appears you are not so small.”

Billy blushed. It had been a long damn time since a man had made him turn red. Sergius removed his hands from Billy’s wrists. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, the hairy bunk motioned for his guest to sit up. “I spied your grappling ability with The Gorgon. That curvaceous body of yours, those hindquarters, and that vacuous expression in your eyes—the hallmarks of a wrestler! I myself was once enamored with the sport, ‘til I became a gladiator. Now, you must honor me by showing me your strength!”

Does he end every sentence with an exclamation point? “Haha…oh geez.” Oh, geez? Come on, playboy! Serge’s ‘Roman rizz’ had reverted Billy back into a virginal freshman, or rather, a vestal virgin. “I only did it for a little while, and I wasn’t even that good! I enjoyed getting pinned more than doing the pinning, for one.”

“Handsome, and modest!” Serge held out his massive arms in a grappling stance, eagerly waiting for Billy to take him on his challenge. “Give me all you got! Don’t hold back!”

Billy sensed how this might pan out and bit his lip, half out of frustration, and half out of sexual frustration. Regardless, he clasped his hands over Serge’s. Serge’s fingers clamped down on his fingers like manacles.

With a grunt, Billy pushed, indeed giving it all he got. It was no use. Serge easily overpowered him, laughing as he pinned Billy to the bed with his bulk, nearly smothering and crushing him the process. “I will have to give you some more lessons,” Serge growled, rubbing his beard against Billy’s neck, making his body tingle. “Now, I shall make you submit to my power—not by brawn alone, nor pain, but with relentless, agonizing pleasure.”

Serge’s tactile tactics with his beard soon transitioned into kissing and mouthing the space between Billy’s ear and shoulders, causing the outsider to roll his eyes back into his head with—well—agonizing pleasure. That, coupled with Serge’s fur, muscle, and heat, all pressing against him at once, was enough to rob Billy of speech.

“This…feels…so good. Fuck.” Billy grew instantly hard, his ‘spear’ meeting Serge’s, only to find his own weapon pinned, dominated, and defeated by Serge’s pulsating shaft. The gladiator cemented his victory with a spurt of precum, dripping from his wide head to anoint the tip of Billy’s cock. An involuntary twitch later, Billy matched Serge with his own secretion. Billy watched the thick, white thread between their glands bridge their masculinities together, before tragically parting. Drunk with this imagery, Billy wanted only more.

Sergius raised his thick eyebrows. “Did you honestly think your pretty cock stood a chance against mine?” Seemed that Serge’s aura of dominance extended from the arena to the bedchamber. Yet, unlike the ferocity he showed in the sands, the romantic side of Serge was more methodical, slow, and tender. He let his lover stew in his moans, before gliding his palms down Billy’s chest, stomach, and legs, in sensual admiration of him.

“From what country has produced such a fine stallion as yourself?” Serge whispered softly, punctuating the statement with a kiss on Billy’s inner thigh, and then another onto his lips. Billy wanted nothing more than only to fasten his mouth to Serge’s (kissing men with beards was always a fun time) but Serge wasn’t going to let him gain the upper hand. Not yet.

Sergius caressed Billy’s most sensitive areas with the back of his hand. “Jove fashioned you with such splendid details. These strong legs. This beautiful belly and chest.” Serge imparted a kiss for each observation. “Why did he do such things? All to drive me mad with lust? If this is punishment, then from this day forward I shall do nothing but profane.” Serge, not one for cheap talk, acted on his ambitions by lifting Billy’s legs up and burying his bearded face into Billy’s ass, where the sublime texture of his beard forced Billy’s hole to contract and expand.

Billy had to clamp his own hand around his mouth to prevent himself from screaming. Thankfully, he regained enough control of his senses to finally form speech. “Serge, I swear if you eat me out, I will cum.” He would have gladly allowed the gladiator to gladi-ate, otherwise.

The man with the aquiline nose and hazel eyes glanced up from his prey, with curiosity painted across his handsome face. “Eat…you out? I am not familiar with the bedchamber customs of which you speak.” He crawled towards and on to top of Billy, like a stalking lion.

No longer in danger of prematurely climaxing, Billy leaned forward and kissed Serge briefly, but the playful gladiator took Billy by the forearms and pinned him back to the bed again, where he stayed in a state of blissful helplessness.

“Still,” Serge said, “the implications suggest a feast, and there is much to devour here in front of me.” Sergius only removed his hands from Billy wrists so he could continue rubbing him wherever it was most stimulating. He gave Billy a warning glance when he dared tried to move, even when the touch of his beard on hip sent Billy spasming.

“Behave,” was all Serge needed to utter.

Billy did.

Serge regarded Billy’s body as an unexplored land to be traversed, all its hills, mountains, and crevasses. Instead of flags of conquest wherever Serge found a territory he most desired, he planted a kiss.

“Do you hail from the Isles of Tin to the far North?” Serge asked, teasing Billy by tracing circles around Billy’s hole with his thumb. “The lands that Radiant Apollo favors most?”

“Worse,” Billy answered. “America.”

The firelight turned Serge’s olive skin into polished bronze, and made his soft eyes shine brighter. “Hmm. I have not heard of this colony. Are all the men there as handsome as the stallion that lays wanting and ready before me?”

Billy swallowed. “I’m…about average.” He looked down and was almost embarrassed at how much he was leaking.

Serge noticed this, and deliberately dragged his massive cock across Billy’s, drawing forth another moan and coating him another layer of precum (seriously, this guy was like a broken faucet). “It is as if wily Cupid himself has delivered you unto my loins.”

“Bro, you don’t know how right you are,” Billy said. With Sergius arching over him, Billy couldn’t help but focus on his enormous chest, and his soft, pink nipples—which poked tantalizingly out of a forest of fur. “Um…may I suck on—”

Serge answered him abruptly by shoving Billy’s entire head into the valley of his chest. He smelled like musk and an unidentifiable, earthy incense—an essential oil, perhaps. Billy buried his face in a wilderness of supple, hard, furry muscle, and was suddenly very content with the idea of suffocation. By no means a selfish lover, Billy returned Serge’s stimulations in his own fashion, licking ‘figure-eights’ across Serge’s nipples. He was pleased, knowing he could make a gladiator moan.

“Yes,” Serge sighed. He kept Billy’s head where he wanted it, and Billy responded in turn by suckling on Serge’s teats like a calf with an unquenchable thirst. He worked on one chest, then the other, making sure both were properly worshipped until Serge’s nips were thoroughly pumped and perky. Billy nibbled, licked, lapped, and groped.

Satisfied that Billy was trapped and contained between the iron pillars of his thighs, the gladiator reached over and scooped up a palm-full of olive oil from the jar. He guided his fingers, slowly, towards Billy’s lower extremities.

Billy winced as he felt Serge try to enter him. “Esh. I’m still a bit sore.” And there’s no way I am taking a gladius like that without more foreplay.

Serge ceased his intent at once and withdrew his fingers from the battlefield. Far from disappointed, he smiled down at Billy with gentle affection. “Then, allow me to show you how we gladiators and athletes have fun after our contests.”

Sergius wrapped his smooth, oiled hand over Billy’s shaft, causing him to gasp as a result of the intense, velvety stimulation.

“During long nights in the barracks,” Serge continued, “the more seasoned of us—matched with our apprentices—would do this to each after a long day of training. All that time spent locked in each other’s limbs left us with a great yearning, you see.

“You will find this a fairer arrangement. A taste of the champion, for now, until my stallion has healed his hind.” Sergius coated his own impressive member with oil, from tip to base, Then, most curious, he spread the oil across his inner thighs.

His application of oil onto Billy’s cock felt like a brief, pleasurable detour into milking, but he wasn’t sure where Serge was going with this other secret technique of his. “What is—”

Instead of his hands, or mouth, Serge wrapped his upper thighs around Billy’s cock—a move that the twenty-first century stud found both unorthodox and esoteric. That was, until Serge’s formidable spear slid across Billy’s root and shaft, triggering every nerve in his body while he moved his cock into the warm, honey-deep nest of his quads.

It was a two-pronged assault—an entirely new method of penetration (for Billy, anyway). His brief, loud, “OH FUUUUUUCK” was silenced by Serge covering his mouth over Billy’s lips.

“Hush,” he commanded, before slipping his tongue inside his mouth, invading him orally.

Billy’s moans were swallowed up, and all the better for it. The feeling of being milked by Serge’s oiled, hard thighs, and the gladiator’s cock rubbing over his own with each pull and push, was enough that Billy would have otherwise cried out.

Billy knew he wouldn’t last long. Forget the battle in the arena, it was now a battle not to cum—and explosively at that. Serge wrapped his massive arms around Billy, pulling him into his furry, warm, hard body; nearly drowning him in his muscles. Trapped in the throes of ecstasy, Billy wasn’t sure if he’d cum first, or if his ribs and spine would snap in half from being simultaneously bear-hugged and frotted into oblivion.

Just when Billy thought he might hold out for a few seconds longer, Serge switched things up, plunging his cock into the space just beneath Billy’s balls, fucking him without fucking him. Billy recalled seeing pictures of this kind of ‘thigh fucking’ before on old Greek and Roman urns. He promised himself to devote a whole chapter to it, if and when he got back to his dissertation.

One thing was certain: field research sure was going swell!

Speaking of swelling, Serge finally withdrew his leaking, pulsating spear. With the same fiendish, war-like passion he’d shown in the arena, he grabbed Billy’s hands and forced them back onto the couch. Serge then mounted him, dragging and thrusting his lubricated cock over Billy’s. Billy had never felt so erotically emasculated by another man before; his own manhood dominated violently by a more superior tool.

He couldn’t last. “AhhhhHHGGGG!” Billy cried out.

Serge’s eyes sparkled, matching his smile. “My stallion brays,” he said, breathlessly. “He must be in heat. Maybe he’ll show me how much of a prized horse he is. Do you accept your defeat at the hands of Sergius Sextus, my small friend?”

“Fuck YES!” Billy practically shouted, expelling a huge blast of milky white all over Serge, spurting loads across his furry chest, fertilizing his forest with his seed.

Serge didn’t let it go to waste. One hand massaged the dripping load into the twin mounds of his pecs, and the other used it as added lubricant, stroking his sword. At the apex of Serge’s orgasm, he repositioned himself to straddle Billy’s chest, mercifully distributing his leg weight over the sides of the couch as to not crush his romantic partner’s chest. Billy was in total worship of him. The oil and sweat coating his body had turned him into a living, bronze statue of a Roman god.

Serge reached up and flexed his biceps, veins rippling across the curves of his muscles, pulsing in time with his hands-free orgasm. “I am victorious!” he growled.

Hands-free, Serge shot like a staggered firehose, pumping thick, watery loads of gladiator semen all over Billy’s prone body, completely flooding him. Billy would have considered this filthy if it hadn’t been so damn hot. Serge’s orgasmic pose was enough to give Billy’s cock one last, little aftershock spurt—the cherry on top.

Billy, shivering with endorphins, was stunned into silence.

Serge bent his head over, like he’d just fought a hard-won victory. When he’d regained stamina, he looked up, a softer expression across his face. He collected a white pearl of his own cum onto his index finger, which he pressed onto Billy’s lips, before taking it back from him in a long-held kiss.

Billy could have lived in that kiss.

TO BE CONTINUED