In The Arena

Dirk entered the arena staging ground with those familiar butterflies fluttering in his stomach. One more time, one more battle in here, one more man dying at his feet, and he would win his freedom. Win or lose, this would be his final day of slavery, and he could return to the North, to his uncle who had sold him at 16 into bondage here in the corrupt Empire. He would find Leif again, his best friend, first though. If he still lived under the could his uncle would have placed on him, the friend of a traitor to the chief of his tribe.

The Empire hadn't just tossed him into the arena to live or die, but he had received a years' training that had strengthened his already big muscles into a fighter's body that bore few scars. The northern sword and shield were, as always, his favorite fighting tools. He would have to wonder about his opponent, unless Vitus was talkative.

"Who is my opponent?" he asked as he stepped before the movable barrier.

Vitus looked over at him and grinned. "Why would you care, barbarian? Plenty of men have died at your feet. Why should you care who the poor fool is?"

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"It helps to know." Dirk reminded him. "You know that."

"True, but I'm not sure I should tell you." Vitus looked at the slave with hunger. He had paid once for the use of Dirk's body, to hold that blond god in his arms, to press his manhood into Dirk's ass and there spread his seed. Dirk had been a boring lay, though, Vitus sighed, lying there as though he would not enjoy, just endure. Even Vitus' lips on Dirk's cock hadn't brought the slightest hardening. Vitus would not pay the price again for a gladiator slave, but did not regret it, and felt a fondness for this slave that he had once held.

"Ah, very well. I don't know his name, but he's a fighter from the provincial arenas. He's one of your countrymen, about your age and height, and will fight with the same weapons as yourself. He, too, will earn his freedom if he wins this day."

Dirk nodded. He planned to kill a chief, if a countryman must die to permit this, it was a small price. "Thank you, Vitus." he said.

"The last bout is over." Vitus cocked his ear at the trumpet and crowd sounds that meant the last man hadn't fought valiantly enough, and would now die at the hands of the victor. "I won't be seeing you again, barbarian." Vitus said. "May I taste your lips one more time?"

Dirk thought it over, shrugged. Vitus deserved something for his information. Warning of an opponent was of great help, and a slave had nothing but his body to offer. He leaned over and down to the man about to pull the ropes to open the barrier, and gave Vitus a kiss, not quickly, but almost intimately.

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Vitus rubbed his lips. "Now if you'd only kissed like that when I'd paid for it."

Dirk grinned. "I win my freedom this day. One way or the other. I am in a better mood than when I'm whipped to a bed and told to perform."

"True. Good luck, barbarian." Vitus said. As Dirk walked out into the arena, he reflected at how Vitus had, despite five years' acquaintance, never bothered to learn his name.

He could see his countryman pacing towards him, wearing, like him, merely a brief loincloth. How the crowds of this corrupt country loved to see a man's body, how they loved to hold men like himself. Sex and violence were mixed together in their minds.

He got closer, and frowned. The man was indeed a countryman, and one of his tribe. His tattoo on one cheek bore witness to that. In the color of the man's shoulder- length hair, dirty-blond, in the eyes and face, there was something of Leif as he'd last seen him. Dear, gentle Leif....

"Winter's whore!" he shouted in disbelief his tribe's oldest curse. "Leif!"

"Dirk!" Leif returned to him. They nearly ran to embrace each other, but the crowd's roar reminded them. They fell into circling each other warily.

"Must one of us kill the other?" Dirk asked sadly.

"It seems we must." Leif said. His voice was, if possible, even sadder.

"Damn these people with eternal night!" Dirk said. "I can't kill you!" And as the crowd roared angrily, Dirk cast down his sword and shield into the arena's dust still thick with spilled blood.

Leif cast his down as well. "Yet they must have their show." he said. "Let's wrestle!"

And Leif cast himself at Dirk with the familiar abandon.

Dirk laughed as Leif's body bore him down. Leif always jumped into battle like this when they wrestled, and always it was his downfall. Dirk had a greater strength in his arms than Leif, which is all it took to catch the body as it plummeted onto him, lift him partially up, and cast him aside onto the ground, following with his own body.

They clutched with a fierceness born of many fights. If the crowd enjoyed their change of battle, then perhaps it would please them enough to set them free.

So they wrestled with whispered advice to each other.

"Throw me over your head, Dirk." Leif whispered, and Dirk did so, and jumped down, slowly enough to let Leif, always more agile and adept, to roll out of the way, causing him to hit only dust. And Leif was atop him, their loincloths dangling from their side, twisted partially around on them, covering nothing. Dirk felt Leif's cock press against his buttocks.

The Emperor seemed to enjoy this, they realized. He was laughing and shouting at them. "Give it to him, barbarian. Stick it in him."

"Perhaps we'd better do as they say." Leif whispered in his ear. "If we give them a show, they'll not put us to death."

Dirk felt Leif's cock harden against him, and Leif moved oh-so-slightly to try to maneuver it into his bowels.

But that meant that Leif no longer had him pinned. Dirk heaved and Leif went tumbling to the side. They scrambled to their feet, circled again. Dirk yanked his loincloth off, to stand nude before Leif. Leif mimicked him, and two naked men were circling in the arena.

Dirk grinned at Leif. "If you want to use this body, you'll have to win the bout."

Leif laughed in his turn. "Then I shall win it."

But laughter meant a lowering of guard, a relaxation of the muscles. And Dirk charged into him before he could recover his concentration.

Over onto Leif's back, they both fell to the ground, Dirk pounced to get astride his friend, felt Leif's erection stab his buttocks. "Now who shall fuck who?" he smirked into Leif's face.

"Not if I can pry you off of me, old friend." Leif struggled. Trying to get leverage, he thrashed with his legs, but only scooted Dirk forward onto him, and Dirk was now astride Leif's chest. Dirk reached for Leif's arms, caught them one at a time by the wrists, pinned him back.

Which left his boner rubbing Leif's cheeks.

"Open your mouth, my friend." Dirk said. He scooted back, thrust forward, and his cock was now perched at Leif's lips. "Open it for me."

"Put it in and I'll bite it." Leif responded. But in saying "bite", he opened his mouth too far. Dirk thrust forward, and his cock scraped Leif's teeth, but made it into the warm mouth. Dirk pushed until his entire seven-inch length was nestled inside his friend's mouth, choking him, making him unable to bite.

"If we are not to kill each other or both be killed, one of us must be the woman." Dirk said. "I have won. Be my woman, and I shall pay you once we have our freedom."

Leif seemed to realize the truth of this, and relaxed his struggle. Dirk kept his hands pinned unless his friend should change his mind, but used his leg muscles to push his cock in and out of his pinioned friend.

Leif gagged, slurped on Dirk's cock with an experience that startled Dirk. In his culture, sex between men was punishable by death. When would Leif...?

But he remembered Vitus and his gold pieces that bought his body that night. Leif, too, would have had his Vitus, had his body used.

Compassion took over, and Dirk was no longer so rough, but gently pushed half his cock-length into Leif's mouth, permitting Leif to give him pleasure rather than stealing it from him.

Leif's mouth was familiar, friendly, adept. Dirk felt his orgasm building and he remembered the need for a show, yanked his cock from Leif's clutching mouth, to shoot it over his friend's face.

But as the first spray hit Leif, as Dirk writhed in orgasm, he used the weakness it brought to raise Dirk's body up, it unable to stop him. Dirk slid backwards, and felt his buttocks pin Leif's erect cock. Leif raised up, with Dirk still helplessly spraying come into the air, to land on Leif's chest, then on his own, then...Leif was on top of him now, his legs between Dirk's, his cock seeking out Dirk's asshole while Dirk still contorted with his lust.

As the last of his seed dribbled into his pubic hair, Leif took possession of Dirk roughly, his cock plowing into him. Leif's hands now pinned him down, his cock a bobbing blur.

And there was passion. Dirk squirmed with it, the pleasure of his friend's cock inside of him. Leif took no time at all in this, the urgency of coming pre-empting the slowness of pleasure. And he pulled out of Dirk's ass, sprayed his come over Dirk's body, a copious flow of white jism that coated him thoroughly.

As Leif finished, he fell onto his friend, caught his breath, helped Dirk to his feet. Both of their chests sticky with come, they turned to the Emperor.

Dirk found himself changing his mind. With his freedom, he and Leif could settle within the Empire. Build a farm. And keep expressing their new-found love for each other.

"Were you pleased with us?" Leif and Dirk shouted together the words of victory. And the Emperor nodded, tossed down a bag of gold into each of their waiting hands.

And Dirk smiled at his old friend and new lover. They had much to discuss. But words weren't needed. He reached for Leif's cock, grabbed it, squeezed it.

And Leif reached over, took Dirk's cock and held it tenderly. They ignored the crowd as they held each other's cock. With the simplicity of their people, the decision had been made.

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