Chapter 2.6 - Naked Combat

 

After some serious pleading, eye-bat lashing, and a double bicep flex, Billy convinced Bato to make it a ‘private’ wrestling tutorial. Unless I’m getting my ass handled, I don’t need an audience to see my ass getting handed to me.

Besides, this was more about buying time than enjoying a tussle in the ancient world. Feeling naked even before taking off his clothes, Billy followed the giant Ethiopian man—whose frame nearly blocked the stone corridor—to a small room with a sand pit, and an open ceiling for lighting. Billy, sighing, leaned over and removed his socks and shoes, grounding himself by the sensation of sand between his toes. The later noon sunlight brought Billy some peace and relief, but the sand reminded him of the arena, and nearly dying.

The truth was that Billy hated getting naked unless the situation was sexual, not because he was a raging horn dog (he was) but because of the control. During sex, nudity was power. It was strength. It was confidence. Outside of some erotic entanglement outside of judging eyes, Billy couldn’t imagine anything less sexy than having to prove his athleticism, naked, to some random Roman dude.

Turned out, the Roman wasn’t so Random—and he was Celtic too. As Billy kicked himself for internally griping about scenarios his more adventurous friends would have probably killed to experience, the familiar face of a bulky redhead with alabaster skin and knotted muscles rounded the corner, drawing the curtain behind him for privacy.

Billy’s heart jumped, and then immediately fell into the pit of his stomach. He shuffled in the sand, nervous, but tried to sound excited. “Brennus! I haven’t seen you since we—”

Right away, it was clear Bren was in no mood for hello’s. “Drop the pleasantries,” he said. “As well as your pants, for that matter. We’re here to wrestle.”

Oh, he is so going to kick my ass. Billy bit his lip and scratched his head. He laughed. “How about we play cards instead? Or I can take out my Switch and we go around of Spellbreakers. I can teach you how to parry moves.” Having said this, Billy cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at the thick, redhead. “You know, now that I think about it, you actually remind me of one of the characters, Ci—”

Brennus sharply cut him off and advanced further, closing the space between them. “You’re not going to wrestle in your clothing, are you?” With that, Brennus dropped his breechcloth to the floor and kicked it away.

Suddenly, Billy forgot what he was saying. “Sorry, I forgot what I was saying!” Because his focus was on Brennus, thick-cut, pasty body, and the fat knob hanging from a golden covering of bush. Bren wasn’t as endowed as Serge, but he had a girthy, uncut cock and a pair of huge, low hanging balls that made Billy drool.

Thankfully, or perhaps because it hadn’t been long since Billy’s last release, his better judgment took hold. Remember what Eros said. “Look, B, I’m not one of those gays. I wasn’t trying to steal your man.” He paused. “On purpose.”

The Roman era jock wasn’t buying it. Emerald eyes narrowed maliciously. “Stop blabbering and take your clothes off.”

“Alright, alright!” Billy did as he was told, with just a touch of shyness. Now that he’d gotten a very good look at his would-be opponent, Billy decided that he was more attuned to his ‘weight class than he’d first thought. In fact, Billy suspected he had more muscle and weight on Bren—no doubt thanks to coming from an era of protein drinks and easily-accessible nutrition.

Dare I say, I might actually have the advantage here? I mean, all I gotta do is just get on top of him with my chest, right? That’s how normal wrestling works.

Billy looked down and found he wasn’t as shy as he’d thought. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he sighed.

Bren smirked. “Your words say one thing, but your body speaks another language.” For that matter, Bren was sporting a pretty soldi stiff one himself. His round, pink cock head pulsed. “Cupid blesses us with his favor. Truly, this will be a great match…if not a quick one.”

If Billy had zero self-control, he might have started ‘sword fighting’ with Bren instead. “Right,” he said, trying to remember what a ‘grappling stance’ looked like. “So is there like a bell or—”

“HRRRRAH!”

Like a charging, white bull, Bren shot forward into the sand, kicking up particles and wrapping his meaty arms around Billy’s equally meaty quads. Bren pushed his head painfully into Billy’s side and the big boy went down, into the dirt before he knew what was happening to him!

Caught literally with his pants down, Billy at least had the instincts to turn over—which of course meant sticking his big, juicy butt out for Bren. Guard, guard! Billy kept telling himself, gripping the sand.

Bren’s response was to jump onto Billy’s brought back, wrap his arms around Billy’s neck, and push his face down into the sand in a wicked full nelson. This, while Bren wrapped his meaty legs around Billy’s thighs, to try and prevent him from leveraging his weight.

“I didn’t think this would be submission style,” Billy squeaked. “Holy shit, you got a grip.” Billy wasn’t sure if he was imaging Bren rubbing his cock against his lower back, essentially humping him, or if he just wanted to imagine it.

Bren’s frustrated voice stung Billy’s ear. “It’s whatever style I want it to be, Billy.” He clenched down harder. “Come on! After seeing you hold your own out in the arena, I thought you might at least have some more fight in you.”

Billy thought about barking back, and making his situation worse, but then Bren rolled him over, twisting Billy to his side and essentially cradling Billy in his grip.

Billy tried squirming, but Bren kept his grapevine and his nelson on tight. “Aghhh!” Billy cried out, wincing. On the inside though, his body and his brain were in conflict—the war over pain versus pleasure. This is just like the end to Lords of the Locker Room!

Straining against the thick, Celtic beefcake only served to make him even harder. “You love it,” he sneered. “I can feel your heat against mine. Is this what you did with Serge?”

“N-no!” Billy cried out in agony. But he wouldn’t give up. He’d taken cocks up the ass bigger than this beefy, bossy, bottom, bitch. “Agh! Is this because I slept with your crush?“

“Partially,” Bren growled. “I’m taking out my aggression. And I want to make Serge jealous. Also, you’re also cute when you’re in pain.”

Billy went to say ‘thanks’, but then Bren turned him over onto his side again, releasing him. The relief, and mercy, was only temporary though. Before Billy could recover, he found his head wedged between two massive, white anacondas—Bren’s meaty thighs. Even worse, Bren was closing his quads around Billy’s neck and driving his face into.

“Mmmmff!”

Heaven and hell, all in a giant, pasty, birth-mark kissed bubble butt. At least Bren bathed.

Billy couldn’t see it, but Bren was happily content, yawning and flexing, and hardly applying much pressure at all. “I’ll release it once you kiss it!”

He thinks this is humiliation, Billy thought, struggling to breathe. But really, it’s the best day of my fucking life!

Suddenly, Bren’s expression changed. His lip quivered. “H-hey, I said kiss it only. What are you? Oooh that feels good. Too good.”

Blushing, Bren released Billy from his imprisonment, only to reposition his pelvis on Billy’s face, dragging his wet cock and musty ball sack over Billy’s mouth. “Taste me,” he said. “Taste your conqueror.

With Bren’s fat cock and balls smashed against his face, Billy scowled. “This is why redheads scare me,” he said, before he wrapped his mouth around Bren’s glans and put on a submission technique of his own. He inhaled the Celt’s heavy cock like it was an ‘extra meat’ filled burrito on taco Tuesday, thickness and girth be damned.

Bren didn’t expect that! His eyes rolled back into his head. So used to Bren was in inflicting pain, that he’d never expect an opponent to turn the tables by inflicting pleasure instead! “What-what kind of technique is this!?”

Billy had him where he wanted him, and he felt like a damn champion. He stupefied Bren with some of his own special, mouth wrestling techniques. The twirling tongue. The up-and-down. The chicken head bob. Bren’s cock cried ‘mercy’, in every release of salty precum. Each expulsion was a victory for Billy.

But Bren wasn’t going to surrender that easily. Forcing himself not to release, and lose this fight, he leaned forward and declared, “We’ll see who yields first.”

Mouth full, Billy’s eyed widened as he felt something amazing happening to his own, pulsing ‘weapon’ in this arena. Bren was a master of the mouth himself! Though less proficient, he took Billy in easily.

The two opponents went at it, in a lock-up of tongues and mouths. Billy’s mind sparked endorphins, reeling from the feedback of Bren swallowing and sucking him, and him suckling the meat boy’s fat cock. He could have staid in this position for hours.

But Billy intended to win this match. And, fortunately (or unfortunately_ so did Brennus. With neither men relenting to the other, but their bodies vibrating, suggesting that the other might lost his load any moment, the two beefy studs dove in faster, with an insatiable hunger for the other—both of them thinking they might swallow the other hole.

In the end, there was no yielding. Bren’s moans of pleasure melted into Billy’s, a loop of pure ecstasy. The two equally matched, white bulls flowed into the other, with Billy letting out a high-pitched hum, and Bren moaning sweet vibrations into Billy’s throbbing shaft, coaxing out more and more cum.

The two studs came in each’s others throats at the same time, with stifled groans and overflow of white trickle from their lips. Neither thought of spitting, though Billy thought he might actually drown from how much Bren unloaded. It must have been awhile since his last release. Bren, clearly, had the easier time of it.

It was easily the angriest, most intense ‘69’ of Billy’s life, but damn if it didn’t feel fantastic!

Bren and Billy released each other, gasping, at the same time. They scrambled to their hands and feet, like cats mid fight. Their sweaty faces met, and then their eyes. Billy saw the sticky white thread dangling from Bren’s puffy, parted lips. Speaking a wordless language, the fighters turned, in a moment, into lovers. Billy and Bren kissed each other, tasting the other’s seed, and fighting with their tongues.

The two men, groaning and growling, clawed at each other’s back, getting fistfuls of muscle, fat, and ass. When they were both content, they broke away—as did the spell—with either man looking at the other as if they weren’t quite sure what had just happened.

Bren composed himself first, wiping his mouth. “Well,” he said. “Seems we are more well-matched than I thought. Your techniques are unorthodox, certainly show promise.” He smirked. “I imagine you will be quite popular with the other wrestlers.”

I’ll need a fucking stomach pump before I get out of this era, Billy thought, sickly in his post-nut clarity. “Yeah. I definitely feel like a winner.”

“Mmm. No. Technically you were flat on your back, so I won.”

Billy sighed, with Bren still fresh on his breath. “Let’s not do this again. Are we even?”

Billy expected Bren to deck him across the face, or (hopefully) put him ina sleeper hold. Instead, Bren said something…unexpected. “Far from even. We are equals, Billy!”

Billy blinked, but before he could say anything, the massive wall of Celtic meat pounced on him, pinning his hands and violently making out with him.

“Let’s go to the brothels!” Bren said, with horny mischief. “We can have a night the whole night. Any men we want! Any men we crave. It’ll piss Serge off, so much! What do you say? Some more fun?”

This was far too much! With sand now nestled in places Billy dared not think about (it must have been Eros’s divine intervention that stopped him from getting only cum in his mouth) Billy winced. “Bren, I am not the one you’re meant to fall in love with!”

Back to the old, squinty, testy Bren again. The gladiator stood up. “Who said anything about falling in love?” he said. “I enjoy your body, Billy. And your spirit. We would have a time together! And I can drink and fuck the thoughts of that oversized ox, Serge, away!”

Drained and defeated, Billy laid back in the sand and looked up at the orange, setting sky hanging over the wrestling guild. “Is anybody in this time period well-adjusted?”

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