In His Arena 1: Slave Eternal

by Maksima, Nasia

  He didn’t even know if Hektor wanted him in return.

  Hektor sent the boy away with orders for wine, and waited in awkward silence until the lad brought it back. Two clay cups, an earthen vessel, and the silence broken only by the liquid sloshing into the cup. Lucan could not help but be transfixed by the redness of it, glistening in the early morning light.

  Red as blood. In three days, the arena will run with it. If I don’t tell him now…

  He looked up and met Hektor’s gaze. He saw the man’s desire, all his wants, all his cares, the shadow of fear in his eyes—fear for Lucan.

  So much. Too much. Lucan could not say any of the things he wanted to say. Hektor watched him, sky-blue eyes questioning, lingering on Lucan.

  He fears that I am in love with him. I am in love with him.

  Lucan wanted to reach out to Hektor, to smooth that silky black hair, to feel his lips—hard, yet so soft—crush against his own, to feel his corded arms around Lucan’s body, for him to hold and soothe away the fears, the terror that tomorrow would bring.

  The Ebon flared hot beneath his flesh. How long would it stay hidden?

  He wanted suddenly to plead with Hektor. Please. He pictured Hektor reaching out, taking him into an embrace. But it was not to be.

  Lucan moved to stand.

  “You wanted to speak with me.” Hektor’s baritone was strained, and Lucan felt the brush of his calloused hand on his own. He looked down. The touch burned him. More than any Ebon brand.

  Hektor stood, pulling Lucan up with him. For a long moment, he gazed down upon Lucan. “I…” That fear eclipsed the light in Hektor’s blue eyes, but beneath the darkness, lust, love, confusion—a thousand different emotions—burned bright. He laid a hand on Lucan’s chest, his palm flat, as though he meant to cover the brand should it rise.

  “Lucan…” Once more, Hektor let his words trail off. He seemed to be struggling—to control himself, to let himself lose control. “I can’t.”

  And with those words, it was over.

  Crushed, Lucan turned his back. “I understand.” But he didn’t. Not by a long shot.

  Hektor’s hand lingered on Lucan’s, and Lucan pulled away. He made it only three steps before he heard Hektor come after him.

  A strong hand on Lucan’s arm turned him back. Hektor stood there, breathing hard, the love and lust overcoming the fear in his eyes.

  In the next moment, he was claiming his kiss with bruising force, grabbing the boy’s jaw, forcing his tongue inside. Lucan gasped with the taking, digging his fingers into Hektor’s powerful biceps.

  Hungry, desperate, Hektor pushed him back. They stumbled. Lucan’s thighs struck the table. Hektor’s hands were on his hips, lifting him. Lucan went willingly, sliding back along the cool marble, already opening his legs. His cock twitched and then began to rise, hardening, tenting his tunic.

  Hektor glanced down and licked his lips. With one big hand, he groped Lucan’s cock through the cloth and began stroking him to full arousal. A groan escaped Lucan as pleasure shot through his body. He let his head sink back, his blond hair spreading out on the table.

  That Hektor would take him in the light of day, while they were facing each other, made Lucan hotter, his cock harder. In some ways, it made his heart softer. He loves me.

  Hektor stroked and caressed and then slowly peeled back Lucan’s sweat-sticky tunic. Gasping in need, Lucan felt himself spurt precum as his mentor exposed him and ran one finger across the slit of his cock-tip.

  A flash of sky-blue eyes, and Hektor bent his dark head to taste his wanton student. The velvet caress of his tongue swiping the length of Lucan’s shaft sent a violent jolt through him. The table groaned as he punched his hips up, trying to delve all the way into Hektor’s mouth.

  Hektor chuckled. “Soon enough. Soon enough.” He gave Lucan one long, lingering lick and then left him hard and wanting. Running rough hands up Lucan’s spread thighs, Hektor stepped closer to the table, the bulge in his tunic huge.

  The thought of that massive, stiff rod invading his hole made Lucan shudder and squirm on the table. To the Abyss with waiting. He sat up and reached for his desire, pushing Hektor’s tunic aside until that hard, heavy pole was in his hands. Grasping Hektor by the cock, he pulled him in, stroking every inch of his length, watching him lengthen, stiffen.

  He wanted him—in his mouth, in his ass. He was desperate. He stroked and pulled, running his thumb hard over the crown, dancing his fingers along the slit, swirling through the silky fluid there.

  Hektor groaned deep in his throat. His cock leaped, and a jet of fluid ran over Lucan’s fingers. Lustily, his gaze on his mentor’s, Lucan brought his hand to his mouth and sucked Hektor’s cum from his skin. And then he lay back, spreading wide, his legs in the air. He could not have offered himself more plainly.

  A moment’s hesitation, and then Hektor tore the tunic from his student’s sweating body. Naked, displayed like a delicious, sensuous feast, Lucan writhed.

  Deep within his chest, a pain began to sear him. He fought it back.

  The Ebon burned, responding to his lust.

  And yet, this was not mere lust. This was love. True love.

  He looked up into Hektor’s sky-blue eyes. The kiss was warm, wet, Hektor’s tongue probing first gently and then rougher as his hands came down on Lucan’s hips, pushing him harder into the table, splaying him out. Hektor stepped in. The brush of his muscular legs against Lucan’s inner thighs sent his mind awhirl.

  Gently, Hektor pumped, nudging his rod against Lucan’s body—his thighs, his balls, his crack. He took himself in hand and rubbed the creamy tip across Lucan’s skin, anointing him with precum.

  Lucan could not help imagining Hektor jerking off and coming right there, his jism spraying all over Lucan’s ass. As though reading the lust on his face, Hektor began to pump his cock with long, purposeful strokes. Lucan reached, tried to touch him, but Hektor pushed him back.

  “Let me show you my desire for you.” The words were a raspy growl, and he began to pull harder and faster. His cock jerked in his grasp, twitching, the head glistening wetly. Hektor punching his hips into his hand, his shaft sliding through slick fingers, velvety-wet and rock-hard. His thighs trembled, his eyes rolled back, and he spurted ropes of pearly cum on Lucan’s body—on his thighs, his ass, his balls, and then finished on his belly.

  The heat of it burned Lucan even more than the sear of the Ebon.

  Moaning, shuddering, Hektor gathered the last spurts in his hands. But when Lucan urged Hektor to feed him his cum, his mentor only commanded, “Tilt your hips.”

  When Lucan obliged, Hektor parted his ass cheeks and smeared the silky jism on Lucan’s hole. The warm stickiness of it made Lucan squirm in pleasure, and then his mentor dipped one finger into him. The cum wasn’t enough to make him wet, and the invasion brought Lucan a measure of burning pain. He preferred that pain to the burn in his chest. He reveled in it, pushing his ass back to suck up an inch more.

  “Naughty,” Hektor chided and pulled away.

  Desperate, burning in need, with the pain of the Ebon looming, Lucan squirmed sensuously. He wanted more, he wanted Hektor filling him up, stiff cock thrusting in, stretching him in wild, rocking pushes, bringing him a pleasure that would make him forget about his dark thoughts, about the dark mark on his chest.

  He panted with the wanting of it, and reached for Hektor. Once again, his mentor only smiled and pushed him down, following him with sultry kisses. He laved Lucan’s nipples, pulling on them with his teeth.

  Lucan clasped him close, and the Ebon burn began to spread. No. Please no.

  If Hektor saw it, he might flee again, and if he left Lucan in such a state… Lucan knew he would lose his mind.

  Wet kisses and the swipes of Hektor’s tongue soothed the burn, but Lucan felt it threaten with each sigh, each kiss, each roll of his hips. Yet, he could not stop. Please hold off. Please. It’s love, not lust. That had to make a difference, didn’t it? Please…
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br />   Hektor trailed those hot kisses down Lucan’s body, massaging his chest and abs, his stomach. Without warning, he grabbed the boy by the hips and pulled him up.

  Lucan went with his man’s urgency, thrusting, his pole sucked into the soft, wet heat of Hektor’s mouth. Pleasure shot through him to the root. Moaning, he pumped his hips, watching his cock slide in and out of Hektor’s mouth, watching the man’s mouth distort grotesquely. His balls grew taut, and he fought off his orgasm.

  Hektor pulled away, his mouth coming off Lucan’s cock with a soft pop. “Now,” he rasped, stroking his student, pushing him toward the edge, toward completion.

  Lucan threw his head back, the buildup of pressure in his cock, in his balls driving him wild. Hektor pulled him, pumped him. He cupped Lucan’s balls and fondled, and then Lucan was coming in hard, shuddering spurts all over Hektor’s hands. “There,” Hektor soothed. “There you are.”

  With no more pretense, he stood and threw Lucan’s legs over his shoulders. He stepped in, spreading him wider, watching with hooded eyes as he opened up. Hektor slipped his hands between them and worked Lucan’s hot cum into his hole, stretching him, readying him for the taking.

  Moaning, Lucan squirmed. The pleasure, oh, the pleasure. And the pain.

  The Ebon was searing up through his skin. The fever ignited across his chest, and the black glow began to blossom, tiny pinpricks that would soon burst open. He brought his arms up across his chest as if he could forestall it.

  The tip of Hektor’s cock nudged his hole.

  Lucan whimpered and rolled his hips. “Yes.” He clasped Hektor’s shoulders. He wanted desperately to drag him in, to feel the weight of this beautiful man grow heavier as he sank into Lucan inch by glorious inch. “Fuck me.”

  Hektor pushed, a grunt working its way from his throat as he began to drive into Lucan’s willing ass. Lucan cried out. The pleasure lit through him, and with the burn of it came the burn of the Ebon.

  It opened up, a deadly bloom across his chest.

  The look of love and lust faded from Hektor’s eyes, his growl of pleasure turning to anger, and where he had been preparing to thrust all the way into Lucan and ride him to ecstasy, he stopped. Halfway in. Unmoving, his gaze drinking in the dark mark as though it were the blackest betrayal.

  “No,” Lucan moaned. “No, please.”

  But Hektor slid out of him.

  Panic rioted through Lucan. He jerked to a sitting position “No!” I love you. I need you. All that came out was, “I want you.”

  Hektor’s eyes were dark, the Ebon reflected in them, a black blaze that turned his intentions dark. He still held his stiff cock. “No. You want this.”

  Lucan followed his mentor’s gaze. The Ebon raged through him, and in another breath, it took him over. His tongue darted out, licking his lips.

  Fucking was good enough, wasn’t it?

  He met Hektor’s eyes, a challenge rising even as his heart leaped in denial of it. No. He didn’t want this. No. No! The cries were locked in his throat. His body a servant to the Ebon and its fell desires.

  Anger shot across Hektor’s face. “Fine then. You can have it.” He grabbed Lucan by the shoulder and turned him roughly. Lucan cried out as he was shoved to the table, the Ebon burning hotter pressed to the smooth surface. Its heat radiated out, turning the marble into a sweltering altar upon which Hektor would fuck him.

  He felt fingers at his hole, and then Hektor’s cock stretched him wide, almost painfully so. Merciless, Hektor slammed into him, rocking him, rocking the table. Lucan gasped with the force and roughness. Hektor’s fingers bit into his hips as he began to fuck Lucan in long, punishing strokes.

  Even as the pleasure burned through Lucan’s body, tears welled in his eyes. He wanted Hektor to take him tenderly, to hold him and love him, to look him in the eyes as they both came. And now…

  Hektor grunted, driving in like a beast. Pain turned to pleasure, the pulsing of the Ebon searing Lucan in time with Hektor’s powerful thrusts. A low whine tore from Lucan’s throat. He could not help rocking back, could not help giving up his ass, his ecstasy to the brutal fucking. He needed it; he deserved it. He was only a slave—a slave who had fallen for his mentor.

  If this was all Hektor could give, Lucan would take it.

  “Take it, bitch-boy.” Hektor’s guttural groans were punctuated by the slapping of his thighs against Lucan’s ass. He reached around and fondled Lucan’s balls.

  Captured, impaled on Hektor’s implacable cock, Lucan could only cry out, begging for his own ruination. Hektor’s grip on Lucan’s balls tightened. They were fucking so hard the table pitched and shrieked forward inch by inch. Their cries and groans filling the courtyard, the slapping of sweaty flesh.

  The emotionless caryatids lining the quad were not their only witnesses.

  Lucan caught glimpses of servants peeking in, watching the famous Hektor Actaeon fuck his student to within an inch of his life. Lucan couldn’t help being the whore. He wanted to be beneath his man. It felt right. It felt good. He shifted, tried to turn, but Hektor grabbed him by the nape and held him down.

  Battered, Lucan grunted with the force of his pounding.

  Three more hard, unremitting strokes, and Hektor let loose, flooding Lucan’s ass with hot cum. He shouted triumphantly and kept pumping wildly until he softened enough to pull out.

  Dazed, Lucan felt the loss of Hektor like the loss of his own limb. Cum ran down his thigh, already cooling. Dimly, he realized he lay in a puddle of his own seed. Wasted. He’d wanted to shoot his wad on Hektor, to brand his skin and claim the man as his own.

  Hektor was looking anywhere but at Lucan as he donned his tunic. He’d walk away. Lucan could barely walk. He moaned and collapsed on the table. Spent, spent into. Hektor’s slave and whore.

  HEKTOR WATCHED THE slide of semen down Lucan’s leg, and regret festered within him. Now that the lust was fading, satiated, he felt tremendous guilt. He’d held Lucan down and rode him, used him, called him a bitch-boy. Lucan had liked it. But not even that fact assuaged Hektor’s guilt. He should not have lost control. Lucan deserved better than this. Better than me.

  He wanted to lean in, to tongue the cum from the boy’s thigh, to roll him over and take his softened cock into his mouth, to bring him off hard and fast, and then sink down on that shaft and let it burn through his hole in the bawdiest, filthiest fuck he’d ever had.

  He wanted to look into Lucan’s eyes when Lucan came inside him.

  But if he allowed Lucan to touch him, if he allowed himself to look upon the young gladiator, Hektor knew he would have to face the Ebon. And he knew he could not see it and bear it.

  Three days until the Grand Melee. I should tell him. Only three days. Tell him what? Hektor touched the soft fall of hair at Lucan’s nape.

  That I love him.

  Roughly, he pushed away from the young novice, leaving Lucan spread out on the table, bereft. He glanced back, saw the youth gather up his robes, wipe his nose with the back of his hand.

  Hektor’s heart gave a nasty jolt. Was Lucan crying?

  When Lucan turned, Hektor quickly looked away, but not before he saw the tears.

  Damn me to the Abyss! He strode from the courtyard and to the stair. Climbing quickly, he took the shortest path to his quarters. He pushed the curtains aside violently and entered his chambers. The sun was bright through the far draperies, casting shadows in the deep parts of the room. In the dimness, he could only make out the outline of a man.

  Stratos’s voice made the rest of him unmistakable. “You seem…fond of him.”

  “I’m fond of his ass,” Hektor lied, hating himself.

  Stratos’s look was shrewd. He cocked his head, like a snake regarding a bird. “Truly?” he asked, toying with the cord to the curtains. “Because just now… That seemed like more than fondness for his ass. Though…” He slid the curtain aside an inch. “I can see why you would be fond of it.”

  Hektor glimpsed Lucan through the curtain
. At that moment, the boy turned and they locked gazes.

  Resolve darkened on Lucan’s face. He headed Hektor’s way.

  Panic burst bright within Hektor. If he sees me with Stratos, he’ll think… What? Lucan’s footsteps were light on the stairs. Hektor froze. That I am conspiring with him. Perhaps that the Ebon is my fault. That I—

  “Hektor?” Lucan called from behind the curtain. His voice wavered, and from the thickness of it, it was evident he was still crying. A sniffle, and then Lucan cleared his throat and tried again. “Hektor. I know you’re in there.”

  Stratos’s smile was wide and cruel. He held a finger to his lips and stepped back.

  Hektor would not have thought the scant shadow in a sunlit room would hide the councilor, but it seemed the shadows pulled themselves from the corners to cloak him.

  Hektor only hoped he stayed hidden.

  Lucan brushed the curtain aside. The look on his face nearly made Hektor’s heart stop. The blotchy cheeks, the tear tracks, the red-rimmed eyes. Despite the ugly black mark that glowed upon his chest—a circle with two slashes through it—Hektor wanted to sweep Lucan up in his arms and whisk him away. The temptation grew strong, but Stratos was hidden in the shadows, lurking, watching.

  Hektor could feel his presence like a stain on their encounter, a dirty voyeur. “Lucan, you shouldn’t—”

  “I love you.”

  The words hung in the air between them, and Hektor backed away, as though he could outrun them, outrun the sentiment attached to them. But Lucan would not have it. He stepped forward, taking Hektor’s hand in both of his. His fingers felt fragile as tiny bird’s wings. Hektor had seen Lucan develop from a gangly boy to a young man, and he knew the strength in him, but here and now, he seemed so small, so vulnerable.

  A breeze from the window seemed to bring a dark chuckle.

  Hektor tried gently to pull his hands away—“Lucan, this isn’t the time or the place”—but the younger gladiator held them tightly.