Gladiator, Supernatural RPS AU, NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural RPS
Title: Gladiator ( A sequel to Courtesan)
Pairing/Characters: Jensen/Jared, implied JDM/Jensen, implied JDM/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3537
Summary: Total AU. Jared is a gladiator, rewarded for his victory with a night with Jensen, a courtesan belonging to the House of Morgan...but life for Jared is not the ease of a courtesan's life. And love is a commodity he doesn't really have the capacity for...until Jensen shows him a tenderness he's never known.
A/Ns & Warnings: Um. For starters, I really, really resisted starting this, because I know it's going to get epic...and I need another epic like I need an elephant to sit on me. Still...it wasn't letting go. So things to know: This is a cross between Feudal Japanese society and Roman society. Courtesans are chosen based on time and location of birth and physical characteristics. They are property of the state, but serve the Lords who govern the regions in which they are born. Likewise, gladiators are chosen in much the same way, but with different criteria. They are also property of the state, and serve the Lords who govern the regions where they were born.
Art, from apieceofcake...
The bed and blankets and pillows were far too soft for sleeping, so much cleaner than his straw stuffed mattress in the barracks, that Jared couldn’t get comfortable, no matter how sated he was from the night’s activity.
His companion too was softer, gentler than those he shared space with on any given night. The courtesan was pale, his face peaceful as he slept.
Jared hugged his knees and watched him, wondering how he had come to have this.
Only two days before he had been a junior warrior, apprenticed to a gladiator of renown. His only dreams had been to survive to challenge one of the gladiators and claim his place in the ranks of those who fought for the House of Morgan, to honor his sponsor and Lord, the middle son of Lord Morgan.
For as long as he could remember Jeffrey had shown interest in him, from even before the first time he had bled on the sands of the arena, at the tender age of fourteen. He had been chosen for service years before, taken from his mother’s arms and thrust into violent training where he learned to kill or be killed.
It was Jeffrey, reviewing the young trainees with his father, who had chosen him to be sent to the arena, rather than the regiment. He had said Jared had a face that would please the crowds.
It had been Jeffrey who insisted he be apprenticed to the best of the best. The young lord would slip him extra food before matches and visit him in the cold nights. And when Jared’s mentor fell ill just before the games pitting warriors of the local houses against one another, it had been Jeffrey that insisted Jared was ready to take his place.
No one other than Jeffrey expected him to win. Not against a warrior with so much experience and a winning streak of over 20 fights. Not even Jared. He hadn’t expected to walk out of the arena.
And he had emerged victorious, bloody and exhausted, but victorious. The young lord had promised Jared a reward like nothing he’d ever known.
Jared looked at the man sleeping nearby, the make up was nearly gone from his face, streaked in places where their sweat had washed his skin, his body lay loose and easy against the sheets, his hair on the pillow. He would never have asked for such pleasures.
He had never known such pleasure existed.
Sex had never been pleasure before. It had been duty, it had been expected. From his earliest memories, those above made use of those below to sate their base needs. Commanding officers, older boys in training, the gladiators who trained them…and you did as you were told unless you could fight them…and then, if you fought them and lost?
Jared shivered, remembering a time only a few years before when he’d challenged a trainer. The beating had been bad enough, a fair fight, but one he couldn’t win. After though, he’d had to obey, not only him, but others as well.
Then there were those who were moneyed or titled, but had a taste for the rough and rowdy world…the women who paid a fee to the Master of the Gates to spend the night being touched by a warrior with dirty hands and hard bodies...the men who would rather subdue a gladiator than bed a courtesan.
Such had been his knowledge of sex before this night. Jeffrey had come to him following his victory, as he had in the past, and promised him pleasure, a taste of what it was to be noble.
He had been uncertain, nervous. He was younger than the other fighters afforded the honor of eating in the Great Hall. He had been bathed and bandaged and coached on what to do once inside.
He’d withstood the ribbing of the men as they were led inside, and distanced himself from them once they were, trying to keep from bolting. He had come to appreciate the attention of the crowds of spectators when he fought, but the eyes in that room were not as loving, and any slip could land him in worse places than his moldy cot.
The music was strange to his ears, but when the curtains parted and he appeared, Jared had stood a little straighter in his corner, watching in fascination as the courtesan moved through complex steps, his body beautiful and glistening and nearly bare, but for the silk that swirled around him.
He was beautiful. More than that…fluid and grace that would dumbfound any opponent on the field. The pale white of his skin was mesmerizing. The pale green of his eyes captivating, and when they found Jared’s eyes, he felt fire quickening in his belly.
Jared had stared, while all around them people ate. The courtesan stood behind Lord Morgan, his eyes downcast, though Jared caught them flicking his way from time to time. Then he’d gone to the harp, his powerful thighs holding it against his body as he played, his fingers plucking over strings to make it sing.
Jared had held his breath, inexplicably moved by the music.
And when the applause was gone, Lord Morgan was making him the offer and Jared almost couldn’t speak. He worked at not stumbling, and not showing himself up for the country clod that he knew he was.
His hand burned when the courtesan’s hand was put in his. He didn’t breathe again until they were out of sight of the rest of the court, and even then, he was half certain he would pass out from lack of air.
“My Lord.”
Jared opened his eyes. Jensen was holding out a hand. Jared unfolded his long legs and slid toward him, letting that hand caress over his skin.
“You should have wakened me.”
Jared smiled down at him. “You looked so beautiful sleeping there…I didn’t want to wake you.”
Jensen’s eyes lowered. “I imagine I am far from beautiful at this moment, my lord. But thank you for your flattery.”
Jared kissed him then, savoring the soft lips, the surrender without battle as Jensen’s mouth fell open, inviting him deeper. “Without any of that paint, you are beautiful…more than any man deserves.” He splayed a hand over the white of Jensen’s chest, marveling again at the marked differences between them, for all that they were both owned by the same man.
“There is time yet. Morning is not for an hour or more. Come my lord.” Just like his lips, his legs fell open in invitation and despite all the previous anxiety, Jared felt himself swell with desire. Jensen’s hands guided him and his strong legs curled around him as he held his cock and lined it up.
He sank in, gliding easily on the remains of his last orgasm an hour or two before. He had never known a man could climax so many times in so short a time.
Jensen’s hands glided over his skin and pulled him down, his mouth joining the pursuit over his chin and jaw, over his throat. Jared moaned and Jensen’s breath moved hot over the wetness his tongue left behind.
Sweat slicked his back and chest as he moved, steady and slow, wanting this to last. It would likely be the last time he would have anything like this. “You think too much of the world outside these doors, my lord.” Jensen said, his hands on Jared’s face. “Be here, with me.”
Jensen’s hips moved, then they were rolling and Jared landed on his back, with Jensen above him, riding him. His hands braced against Jared’s chest and his ass squeezed around Jared’s cock as he lifted up, then slid down again, keeping Jared’s pace. “Is it pleasing?”
Jared nodded sort of awkwardly, biting his lip as he thrust upward. Jensen’s body moved as gracefully as it had while he danced, twisting and squeezing and Jared was too close, too fast.
As if sensing that, Jensen stopped with Jared’s cock buried deep inside him, bending forward to kiss and lick over sweaty skin. “You are my first as courtesan.”
Again Jared nodded shakily. Jensen’s body contracted around him, tightening and releasing and he could come just from that alone if he didn’t stop. “I know.”
“That makes you special.” Jensen’s mouth found his.
Jared didn’t know about special, he only knew that his cock was done, exploding as though he hadn’t already come four times since entering this room. Jensen didn’t move as he came and his cock softened inside him.
When at last he did, he raised his head, breathed along Jared’s jaw. “My warrior.”
Jared shivered and exhaled slowly.
“Let me prepare you for the day.”
Jared sat up as Jensen left him, padding softly into the kitchen area. When he came back, Jared could tell he’d washed himself enough that he didn’t have come oozing from him. He brought the basin to the place on the steps where he’d washed Jared upon entering. “Come, my lord.”
Jensen held out his hand and Jared went to him, letting the courtesan guide him to a seat on the stairs before he began washing Jared with the same devotion he had the night before.
“So that you may face the world outside these doors washed clean of all that has come before.” Jensen murmured, his cloth moving over Jared’s skin. He washed over Jared’s arms and chest, onto his thighs, then over his sensitive cock, kissing away the hiss as it quickly became too much.
When he was done, Jensen set the basin aside and rose, returning with Jared’s pants and shirt. It was odd and vaguely disconcerting, letting Jensen dress him, slipping the pants up over his thighs and encouraging him to stand. Jensen tucked him in and buttoned his pants with as much diligence as he did everything else, then rose to help Jared on with his shirt.
Jensen returned to his knees, holding Jared’s boots. “If it please, my lord.”
Jared looked at him for a moment before he realized what he was saying. “Right…um…okay.” He sat again, offering his foot for the boot. Jensen smiled at him softly, slipping the boot on, then lifting the other. He set both feet onto the floor and kissed the inside of each knee before rising up between Jared’s legs to kiss him softly.
He had never expected this…not the gentle touches, not the genuine rush of lust, not the way his body craved more…even now. “Thank you.” Jared breathed into Jensen’s mouth. “I never…expected…” His eyes opened and Jensen was blushing.
“You honor me, my lord.”
Jared shook his head, rubbing a thumb over Jensen’s full lips. “You honor me. I’ve never known such a touch. I likely never will again.”
Jensen’s eyes lifted then. “If you were to win…again…our Lord Morgan might see fit to honor you…again.”
Jared hadn’t even thought that far ahead. His whole life was about survival. Winning was only ever a means to survival. “He might.” Jared licked his lips. “Would you like that? I mean…to see me again?”
Jensen’s smile was fleeting. “I would, very much, my lord.”
In the distance a bell was sounding. The sound of dawn. “I guess that means it’s time to go.” Jared stood, then reached a hand down to help Jensen to his feet. “I…I fight again in three days. Could you…I mean, would you like…” He shook his head. He couldn’t understand why his stomach was fluttering like it was. “Sometimes I see courtesan’s at the games.”
Jensen ducked his head. “I have never been to the arena.”
“It is a bloody spectacle.” Jared said, turning away. Maybe too much for someone as gentle as Jensen. He wasn’t even sure why he’d said it. “I should go. I have a training session.”
Jensen held the door for him, sliding one hand down his arm. “Good day, my lord.”
Jared left quickly, his boots echoing in the now empty hall as he made his way out the castle and headed for the arena. He needed to get out of the silly clothes Jeffrey had given him for the night and warm up before the others could start the teasing.
He was in his tiny cell of a room, stripped down to naked and reaching for his tunic when he spotted the young man peering out from the curtain. Jared turned and the boy jumped. “Who are you?”
“Astin.” The kid was clearly nervous. “Antius sent me to assist you.”
Jared frowned and pulled the tunic over his head. “I don’t need assistance.”
“Okay.” The boy fidgeted. “He…I’m…they just sent me over from infantry. I bleed too much.”
Understanding dawned slowly on Jared. “You’re meant to be my apprentice?”
“I guess?”
Jared turned to look at him. He was tall, blond with dark eyes and skin more red than brown. The crowd did seem to like bleeders. “How old are you?”
“Fourteen, sir.”
Jared shook his head. “Jared. I’m no sir.”
“You’re the gladiator that beat Galeth, of the House of Reeds, are you not?”
Jared nodded slowly. “I am.”
“Then you are already a greater man than I’ll ever be.”
Jared sighed and moved to pull his boots back on. “Take it easy kid. I got a few lucky blows in. Tomorrow, I could be the one bleeding out my life on the sands.”
It was a hot day, and judging from the sound of the crowd, a sell out. They’d all come to see the House of Morgan’s new champion, the one who had beaten the undefeated.
Jared let Astin help him finish buckling on his armor…though it was snug in places. It had been his former mentor’s, a big man in his own way, though no where near as tall as Jared.
Three days had passed since he’d bid the courtesan farewell…three days, and all Jared could think about was Jensen coming to see him fight.
It wasn’t even a big fight. Just Jared against two or three younger fighters…no killing blows required…though no one was going to get bent out of shape if someone did die.
He cracked his neck and headed for the main doors, letting the boy carry his weapons. It wasn’t as though it were likely Jensen would even get permission to be there. Jared needed to put the pretty courtesan out of his mind and concentrate on his work…on living through the next thirty minutes.
The doors opened and Jared took his sword from Astin before jogging up the incline and into the arena. The crowd roared, coming to its feet as he circled the center of the space, sword held high.
He jogged toward the Lord’s box and bowed deeply, sword over his heart. It was as he was rising again that he saw…red silk caught in the breeze, lifting and floating away from the box.
A hand reached out as if to catch it, a hand followed by a face. Jared’s breath caught. Jensen. His face less painted than it had been when he’d first seen him, wrapped in red and cream colored silk. Their eyes met and Jared’s heart stopped.
Jensen’s smile was fleeting and he raised the hand that had reached for the scarf. Then he was looking over his shoulder and backing away.
The crowd roared and Jared turned just in time to miss what might have been a deadly blow. He rolled away, coming up on his feet and swiping at the attacker. Three, all of them at least two years younger, still wearing the colors of their mentors.
Two of them were little threat, small and fast, but not bright. Jared knew them well enough from sparring. The third though…Dante, big, smart and good with a sword.
Jared moved to get the three of them in his sights, putting Jensen out of his mind for the moment…though not far, judging from the way his eyes kept tracking to the Lord’s box.
“Focus,” he growled to himself as one of the smaller ones dove at him and he scrambled back, away without swinging at him. He needed to get a read on them, on how they would work together.
He got his answer quick enough as the smallest one jumped to get a stab at him, leaving himself wide open. Jared reached out with his free hand and caught the kid by the back of the neck, cracking his jaw against his knee and dropping him to the sand. He was down for the moment, dazed. Jared moved to the other small one, keeping an eye on the big guy as they danced around the center of the arena. “You gonna dance all day, or you gonna use that pig sticker you got?” Jared taunted, trying to egg the kid into a stupid move.
Obviously the three of them had no intention of working together, which meant Jared needed to work at separating them further.
There was a rush, and Jared felt the wind of a blade just missing him as he whirled to the big guy. He twirled away as the big guy swung wildly at him. Jared dove at the other kid, grabbing at his sword hand and skidding around him, putting him between Jared and the big guy. It didn’t take two swings for him to be folding, bleeding out into the sand.
Jared scrambled backward. The big guy was still coming. The other kid was starting to get up now too. There was blood running down Jared’s arm, probably tore the stitches. He tossed the sword back and forth, searching for an opening.
When it came, he almost missed it. Big guy swung his sword, narrowly missing Jared’s shoulder, and leaving his stomach open. Jared ducked, shoving his sword forward, through his stomach, riding him to the ground.
The crowd was screaming, but before Jared could respond, there was a heavy weight on his back, hands around his throat. He reared up, grabbing at the hands. The kid was strong. Jared staggered a few steps, then dropped backwards.
He felt the wind leave the kid, felt his hands loosen. He pummeled his sides with elbows until the hands left him all together. Jared stood, victorious. The audience was standing, screaming his name while he panted. His eyes lifted to the Lord’s box. Jensen’s eyes were on him, he could feel him. Jeffrey stood beside him, applauding.
Jared’s eyes caught on the scarf still flitting about the sands, and he moved to scoop it up, dropping his sword and taking off at a run, leaping to climb the wall until he could just reach the Lord’s box.
Jensen met him there as Jared lifted the scarf. “I believe this is yours?”
The sound in the stadium was deafening as Jensen took the scarf with a blush nearly as crimson as the silk and Jared dropped lightly back to the ground. He lived to tell the tale of yet another battle.
Somehow, that victory paled in comparison to the idea that Jensen had found a way to come and see him fight…that Jensen was there, watching.
Jared raised his hands in victory, and headed for the doors already open for him. Astin met him, taking the armor as Jared shed it. By the time he reached his humble cell, he was left with only the dull grey tunic.
He crossed to the basin of water, splashing over bloody arms.
“Gladiator.”
Jared turned to find Jeffrey Morgan standing in the door to his cell, all smiles and open arms. He bowed quickly. “My Lord. You honor me.”
“It is you that honors my house. It should please you to know that I have arranged a match for you.”
“I am pleased to serve, my Lord.” Jared replied.
“In one week, we travel to the House of Janus, where you will fight their champion. When you win, there will be much to celebrate.”
Jared bowed again. “I will do my best for you, my Lord.” The House of Janus. Their champion was nearly legend. Thirty wins, a master of sword and spear and hand to hand. It would not be an easy victory.
When he lifted his eyes, Jared was half surprised to see Jensen behind Jeffrey. He bowed slightly, his eyes lifting to Jeffrey before returning to Jared.
Jared licked his lips. Jensen echoed the gesture. “I was glad to see you today.” Jared said, his eyes likewise flicking to the nobleman.
“Jensen has never expressed an interest in the arena before today.” Jeffrey said with a smile. “I can only assume you made an impression on him.”
Jensen blushed and smiled softly. “A warrior such as this is bound to make a mark, my Lord.”
“Indeed.” Jeffrey agreed. “Perhaps if you win against Janus, I can arrange for you to make more of a mark. Come now, Jensen, our warrior needs his rest.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
Jeffrey exited the cell and Jensen moved a step closer to Jared, not touching, though it looked as though he wanted to. “My warrior needs his rest.”
When Jensen was gone, there was red silk in Jared’s hands and a warmth coloring his cheeks.
______________________________________
And, art from kes1807
Title: Gladiator ( A sequel to Courtesan)
Pairing/Characters: Jensen/Jared, implied JDM/Jensen, implied JDM/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3537
Summary: Total AU. Jared is a gladiator, rewarded for his victory with a night with Jensen, a courtesan belonging to the House of Morgan...but life for Jared is not the ease of a courtesan's life. And love is a commodity he doesn't really have the capacity for...until Jensen shows him a tenderness he's never known.
A/Ns & Warnings: Um. For starters, I really, really resisted starting this, because I know it's going to get epic...and I need another epic like I need an elephant to sit on me. Still...it wasn't letting go. So things to know: This is a cross between Feudal Japanese society and Roman society. Courtesans are chosen based on time and location of birth and physical characteristics. They are property of the state, but serve the Lords who govern the regions in which they are born. Likewise, gladiators are chosen in much the same way, but with different criteria. They are also property of the state, and serve the Lords who govern the regions where they were born.
Art, from apieceofcake...
The bed and blankets and pillows were far too soft for sleeping, so much cleaner than his straw stuffed mattress in the barracks, that Jared couldn’t get comfortable, no matter how sated he was from the night’s activity.
His companion too was softer, gentler than those he shared space with on any given night. The courtesan was pale, his face peaceful as he slept.
Jared hugged his knees and watched him, wondering how he had come to have this.
Only two days before he had been a junior warrior, apprenticed to a gladiator of renown. His only dreams had been to survive to challenge one of the gladiators and claim his place in the ranks of those who fought for the House of Morgan, to honor his sponsor and Lord, the middle son of Lord Morgan.
For as long as he could remember Jeffrey had shown interest in him, from even before the first time he had bled on the sands of the arena, at the tender age of fourteen. He had been chosen for service years before, taken from his mother’s arms and thrust into violent training where he learned to kill or be killed.
It was Jeffrey, reviewing the young trainees with his father, who had chosen him to be sent to the arena, rather than the regiment. He had said Jared had a face that would please the crowds.
It had been Jeffrey who insisted he be apprenticed to the best of the best. The young lord would slip him extra food before matches and visit him in the cold nights. And when Jared’s mentor fell ill just before the games pitting warriors of the local houses against one another, it had been Jeffrey that insisted Jared was ready to take his place.
No one other than Jeffrey expected him to win. Not against a warrior with so much experience and a winning streak of over 20 fights. Not even Jared. He hadn’t expected to walk out of the arena.
And he had emerged victorious, bloody and exhausted, but victorious. The young lord had promised Jared a reward like nothing he’d ever known.
Jared looked at the man sleeping nearby, the make up was nearly gone from his face, streaked in places where their sweat had washed his skin, his body lay loose and easy against the sheets, his hair on the pillow. He would never have asked for such pleasures.
He had never known such pleasure existed.
Sex had never been pleasure before. It had been duty, it had been expected. From his earliest memories, those above made use of those below to sate their base needs. Commanding officers, older boys in training, the gladiators who trained them…and you did as you were told unless you could fight them…and then, if you fought them and lost?
Jared shivered, remembering a time only a few years before when he’d challenged a trainer. The beating had been bad enough, a fair fight, but one he couldn’t win. After though, he’d had to obey, not only him, but others as well.
Then there were those who were moneyed or titled, but had a taste for the rough and rowdy world…the women who paid a fee to the Master of the Gates to spend the night being touched by a warrior with dirty hands and hard bodies...the men who would rather subdue a gladiator than bed a courtesan.
Such had been his knowledge of sex before this night. Jeffrey had come to him following his victory, as he had in the past, and promised him pleasure, a taste of what it was to be noble.
He had been uncertain, nervous. He was younger than the other fighters afforded the honor of eating in the Great Hall. He had been bathed and bandaged and coached on what to do once inside.
He’d withstood the ribbing of the men as they were led inside, and distanced himself from them once they were, trying to keep from bolting. He had come to appreciate the attention of the crowds of spectators when he fought, but the eyes in that room were not as loving, and any slip could land him in worse places than his moldy cot.
The music was strange to his ears, but when the curtains parted and he appeared, Jared had stood a little straighter in his corner, watching in fascination as the courtesan moved through complex steps, his body beautiful and glistening and nearly bare, but for the silk that swirled around him.
He was beautiful. More than that…fluid and grace that would dumbfound any opponent on the field. The pale white of his skin was mesmerizing. The pale green of his eyes captivating, and when they found Jared’s eyes, he felt fire quickening in his belly.
Jared had stared, while all around them people ate. The courtesan stood behind Lord Morgan, his eyes downcast, though Jared caught them flicking his way from time to time. Then he’d gone to the harp, his powerful thighs holding it against his body as he played, his fingers plucking over strings to make it sing.
Jared had held his breath, inexplicably moved by the music.
And when the applause was gone, Lord Morgan was making him the offer and Jared almost couldn’t speak. He worked at not stumbling, and not showing himself up for the country clod that he knew he was.
His hand burned when the courtesan’s hand was put in his. He didn’t breathe again until they were out of sight of the rest of the court, and even then, he was half certain he would pass out from lack of air.
“My Lord.”
Jared opened his eyes. Jensen was holding out a hand. Jared unfolded his long legs and slid toward him, letting that hand caress over his skin.
“You should have wakened me.”
Jared smiled down at him. “You looked so beautiful sleeping there…I didn’t want to wake you.”
Jensen’s eyes lowered. “I imagine I am far from beautiful at this moment, my lord. But thank you for your flattery.”
Jared kissed him then, savoring the soft lips, the surrender without battle as Jensen’s mouth fell open, inviting him deeper. “Without any of that paint, you are beautiful…more than any man deserves.” He splayed a hand over the white of Jensen’s chest, marveling again at the marked differences between them, for all that they were both owned by the same man.
“There is time yet. Morning is not for an hour or more. Come my lord.” Just like his lips, his legs fell open in invitation and despite all the previous anxiety, Jared felt himself swell with desire. Jensen’s hands guided him and his strong legs curled around him as he held his cock and lined it up.
He sank in, gliding easily on the remains of his last orgasm an hour or two before. He had never known a man could climax so many times in so short a time.
Jensen’s hands glided over his skin and pulled him down, his mouth joining the pursuit over his chin and jaw, over his throat. Jared moaned and Jensen’s breath moved hot over the wetness his tongue left behind.
Sweat slicked his back and chest as he moved, steady and slow, wanting this to last. It would likely be the last time he would have anything like this. “You think too much of the world outside these doors, my lord.” Jensen said, his hands on Jared’s face. “Be here, with me.”
Jensen’s hips moved, then they were rolling and Jared landed on his back, with Jensen above him, riding him. His hands braced against Jared’s chest and his ass squeezed around Jared’s cock as he lifted up, then slid down again, keeping Jared’s pace. “Is it pleasing?”
Jared nodded sort of awkwardly, biting his lip as he thrust upward. Jensen’s body moved as gracefully as it had while he danced, twisting and squeezing and Jared was too close, too fast.
As if sensing that, Jensen stopped with Jared’s cock buried deep inside him, bending forward to kiss and lick over sweaty skin. “You are my first as courtesan.”
Again Jared nodded shakily. Jensen’s body contracted around him, tightening and releasing and he could come just from that alone if he didn’t stop. “I know.”
“That makes you special.” Jensen’s mouth found his.
Jared didn’t know about special, he only knew that his cock was done, exploding as though he hadn’t already come four times since entering this room. Jensen didn’t move as he came and his cock softened inside him.
When at last he did, he raised his head, breathed along Jared’s jaw. “My warrior.”
Jared shivered and exhaled slowly.
“Let me prepare you for the day.”
Jared sat up as Jensen left him, padding softly into the kitchen area. When he came back, Jared could tell he’d washed himself enough that he didn’t have come oozing from him. He brought the basin to the place on the steps where he’d washed Jared upon entering. “Come, my lord.”
Jensen held out his hand and Jared went to him, letting the courtesan guide him to a seat on the stairs before he began washing Jared with the same devotion he had the night before.
“So that you may face the world outside these doors washed clean of all that has come before.” Jensen murmured, his cloth moving over Jared’s skin. He washed over Jared’s arms and chest, onto his thighs, then over his sensitive cock, kissing away the hiss as it quickly became too much.
When he was done, Jensen set the basin aside and rose, returning with Jared’s pants and shirt. It was odd and vaguely disconcerting, letting Jensen dress him, slipping the pants up over his thighs and encouraging him to stand. Jensen tucked him in and buttoned his pants with as much diligence as he did everything else, then rose to help Jared on with his shirt.
Jensen returned to his knees, holding Jared’s boots. “If it please, my lord.”
Jared looked at him for a moment before he realized what he was saying. “Right…um…okay.” He sat again, offering his foot for the boot. Jensen smiled at him softly, slipping the boot on, then lifting the other. He set both feet onto the floor and kissed the inside of each knee before rising up between Jared’s legs to kiss him softly.
He had never expected this…not the gentle touches, not the genuine rush of lust, not the way his body craved more…even now. “Thank you.” Jared breathed into Jensen’s mouth. “I never…expected…” His eyes opened and Jensen was blushing.
“You honor me, my lord.”
Jared shook his head, rubbing a thumb over Jensen’s full lips. “You honor me. I’ve never known such a touch. I likely never will again.”
Jensen’s eyes lifted then. “If you were to win…again…our Lord Morgan might see fit to honor you…again.”
Jared hadn’t even thought that far ahead. His whole life was about survival. Winning was only ever a means to survival. “He might.” Jared licked his lips. “Would you like that? I mean…to see me again?”
Jensen’s smile was fleeting. “I would, very much, my lord.”
In the distance a bell was sounding. The sound of dawn. “I guess that means it’s time to go.” Jared stood, then reached a hand down to help Jensen to his feet. “I…I fight again in three days. Could you…I mean, would you like…” He shook his head. He couldn’t understand why his stomach was fluttering like it was. “Sometimes I see courtesan’s at the games.”
Jensen ducked his head. “I have never been to the arena.”
“It is a bloody spectacle.” Jared said, turning away. Maybe too much for someone as gentle as Jensen. He wasn’t even sure why he’d said it. “I should go. I have a training session.”
Jensen held the door for him, sliding one hand down his arm. “Good day, my lord.”
Jared left quickly, his boots echoing in the now empty hall as he made his way out the castle and headed for the arena. He needed to get out of the silly clothes Jeffrey had given him for the night and warm up before the others could start the teasing.
He was in his tiny cell of a room, stripped down to naked and reaching for his tunic when he spotted the young man peering out from the curtain. Jared turned and the boy jumped. “Who are you?”
“Astin.” The kid was clearly nervous. “Antius sent me to assist you.”
Jared frowned and pulled the tunic over his head. “I don’t need assistance.”
“Okay.” The boy fidgeted. “He…I’m…they just sent me over from infantry. I bleed too much.”
Understanding dawned slowly on Jared. “You’re meant to be my apprentice?”
“I guess?”
Jared turned to look at him. He was tall, blond with dark eyes and skin more red than brown. The crowd did seem to like bleeders. “How old are you?”
“Fourteen, sir.”
Jared shook his head. “Jared. I’m no sir.”
“You’re the gladiator that beat Galeth, of the House of Reeds, are you not?”
Jared nodded slowly. “I am.”
“Then you are already a greater man than I’ll ever be.”
Jared sighed and moved to pull his boots back on. “Take it easy kid. I got a few lucky blows in. Tomorrow, I could be the one bleeding out my life on the sands.”
It was a hot day, and judging from the sound of the crowd, a sell out. They’d all come to see the House of Morgan’s new champion, the one who had beaten the undefeated.
Jared let Astin help him finish buckling on his armor…though it was snug in places. It had been his former mentor’s, a big man in his own way, though no where near as tall as Jared.
Three days had passed since he’d bid the courtesan farewell…three days, and all Jared could think about was Jensen coming to see him fight.
It wasn’t even a big fight. Just Jared against two or three younger fighters…no killing blows required…though no one was going to get bent out of shape if someone did die.
He cracked his neck and headed for the main doors, letting the boy carry his weapons. It wasn’t as though it were likely Jensen would even get permission to be there. Jared needed to put the pretty courtesan out of his mind and concentrate on his work…on living through the next thirty minutes.
The doors opened and Jared took his sword from Astin before jogging up the incline and into the arena. The crowd roared, coming to its feet as he circled the center of the space, sword held high.
He jogged toward the Lord’s box and bowed deeply, sword over his heart. It was as he was rising again that he saw…red silk caught in the breeze, lifting and floating away from the box.
A hand reached out as if to catch it, a hand followed by a face. Jared’s breath caught. Jensen. His face less painted than it had been when he’d first seen him, wrapped in red and cream colored silk. Their eyes met and Jared’s heart stopped.
Jensen’s smile was fleeting and he raised the hand that had reached for the scarf. Then he was looking over his shoulder and backing away.
The crowd roared and Jared turned just in time to miss what might have been a deadly blow. He rolled away, coming up on his feet and swiping at the attacker. Three, all of them at least two years younger, still wearing the colors of their mentors.
Two of them were little threat, small and fast, but not bright. Jared knew them well enough from sparring. The third though…Dante, big, smart and good with a sword.
Jared moved to get the three of them in his sights, putting Jensen out of his mind for the moment…though not far, judging from the way his eyes kept tracking to the Lord’s box.
“Focus,” he growled to himself as one of the smaller ones dove at him and he scrambled back, away without swinging at him. He needed to get a read on them, on how they would work together.
He got his answer quick enough as the smallest one jumped to get a stab at him, leaving himself wide open. Jared reached out with his free hand and caught the kid by the back of the neck, cracking his jaw against his knee and dropping him to the sand. He was down for the moment, dazed. Jared moved to the other small one, keeping an eye on the big guy as they danced around the center of the arena. “You gonna dance all day, or you gonna use that pig sticker you got?” Jared taunted, trying to egg the kid into a stupid move.
Obviously the three of them had no intention of working together, which meant Jared needed to work at separating them further.
There was a rush, and Jared felt the wind of a blade just missing him as he whirled to the big guy. He twirled away as the big guy swung wildly at him. Jared dove at the other kid, grabbing at his sword hand and skidding around him, putting him between Jared and the big guy. It didn’t take two swings for him to be folding, bleeding out into the sand.
Jared scrambled backward. The big guy was still coming. The other kid was starting to get up now too. There was blood running down Jared’s arm, probably tore the stitches. He tossed the sword back and forth, searching for an opening.
When it came, he almost missed it. Big guy swung his sword, narrowly missing Jared’s shoulder, and leaving his stomach open. Jared ducked, shoving his sword forward, through his stomach, riding him to the ground.
The crowd was screaming, but before Jared could respond, there was a heavy weight on his back, hands around his throat. He reared up, grabbing at the hands. The kid was strong. Jared staggered a few steps, then dropped backwards.
He felt the wind leave the kid, felt his hands loosen. He pummeled his sides with elbows until the hands left him all together. Jared stood, victorious. The audience was standing, screaming his name while he panted. His eyes lifted to the Lord’s box. Jensen’s eyes were on him, he could feel him. Jeffrey stood beside him, applauding.
Jared’s eyes caught on the scarf still flitting about the sands, and he moved to scoop it up, dropping his sword and taking off at a run, leaping to climb the wall until he could just reach the Lord’s box.
Jensen met him there as Jared lifted the scarf. “I believe this is yours?”
The sound in the stadium was deafening as Jensen took the scarf with a blush nearly as crimson as the silk and Jared dropped lightly back to the ground. He lived to tell the tale of yet another battle.
Somehow, that victory paled in comparison to the idea that Jensen had found a way to come and see him fight…that Jensen was there, watching.
Jared raised his hands in victory, and headed for the doors already open for him. Astin met him, taking the armor as Jared shed it. By the time he reached his humble cell, he was left with only the dull grey tunic.
He crossed to the basin of water, splashing over bloody arms.
“Gladiator.”
Jared turned to find Jeffrey Morgan standing in the door to his cell, all smiles and open arms. He bowed quickly. “My Lord. You honor me.”
“It is you that honors my house. It should please you to know that I have arranged a match for you.”
“I am pleased to serve, my Lord.” Jared replied.
“In one week, we travel to the House of Janus, where you will fight their champion. When you win, there will be much to celebrate.”
Jared bowed again. “I will do my best for you, my Lord.” The House of Janus. Their champion was nearly legend. Thirty wins, a master of sword and spear and hand to hand. It would not be an easy victory.
When he lifted his eyes, Jared was half surprised to see Jensen behind Jeffrey. He bowed slightly, his eyes lifting to Jeffrey before returning to Jared.
Jared licked his lips. Jensen echoed the gesture. “I was glad to see you today.” Jared said, his eyes likewise flicking to the nobleman.
“Jensen has never expressed an interest in the arena before today.” Jeffrey said with a smile. “I can only assume you made an impression on him.”
Jensen blushed and smiled softly. “A warrior such as this is bound to make a mark, my Lord.”
“Indeed.” Jeffrey agreed. “Perhaps if you win against Janus, I can arrange for you to make more of a mark. Come now, Jensen, our warrior needs his rest.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
Jeffrey exited the cell and Jensen moved a step closer to Jared, not touching, though it looked as though he wanted to. “My warrior needs his rest.”
When Jensen was gone, there was red silk in Jared’s hands and a warmth coloring his cheeks.
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And, art from kes1807