BxB Oneshots

The Gladiator

The gladiator had won his fight and made a ton of coin doing it. He made a show of the brutal ass kicking, and the crowd cheered loudly for him. As a reward for his victory, his master would take him to bed and show his appreciation. The gladiator could have his pick of the slaves the master kept to keep his fighters sated, but the master knew he didn't want any of them. His only desire was his master.

It had been this way since the day his master saved him from being executed. Even after only knowing him for two minutes, he'd known his place was at his master's side. He'd do anything for him, including taking a beating in front of the crowd. Thankfully, this fight didn't go that way. Instead, he was the one giving the beating and came out with hardly any bruises.

He could see the pride in his master's face as he walked off the field of the arena. He did good tonight. He fought well and filled his master's pockets with the coins of the bloodthirsty spectators and those foolish enough to bet against him.

The gladiator waits for his master to finish his conversations with his patrons. He leans against the stone wall and imagines all the dirty things his master would do to him.

Then he realizes the crowd is thinning and his master is approaching. He stops imagining what he'll be doing later and focuses on his master's face. The master gives his fighter a pleased smile and beckons him to follow.

He will be rewarded for his performance tonight. He follows his master past the gladiator barracks and up the stairs to the suite above. His master's rooms occupy an entire floor of the stadium, all of them lavish and richly decorated.

His master leads him into his rooms and guides him to the bathing chamber, where a fresh bath awaits, the water steaming and inviting. "You fought well tonight," his master says, his voice low and throaty. "Clean yourself, then join me in my chamber." The gladiator bows his head in submission. His master dips his head, pleased at his subservience, and turns to exit, giving his fighter the chance to eye him up and down and drink his fill of his master's form.

The master was an older man, just beginning to show the telling signs of age. Silver hairs at his temples, stark against his jet black hair, which was kept short enough to not get in the way but long enough to drag his fingers through. His body was tan and built, covered in muscles and scars from his time in the emperor's army. He was a strict but fair man with a stern face. One look from his cold gray eyes could make his opponents tremble with fear. The small scar across his bottom lip certainly added to his frightening appearance. His cheekbones were angular, and his jaw was sharp, always set, never relaxed. Few saw him with his guard down, but none would dare betray him.

His skill with a blade was known throughout the empire. There were rumors he cut down thirty men in thirty seconds. It was almost unbelievable had the gladiator not seen him training one day. He was faster than a striking asp and stronger than a charging bull. The soldiers he spared against could barely keep up, despite the fact that there were seven of them.

As the gladiator stripped out of his fighting uniform and lowered himself into the blessedly hot water, he couldn't help but get hard at the thought of his master's body. His toned chest and muscular limbs were invading his mind, and no matter how much he tried to focus on scrubbing the sand and sweat from his skin, he could not rid himself of the image of his master naked above him.

He sighed and gave in to his urges. He got out of the tub and dried himself quickly, wanting nothing more than to feel his master's hands on his flesh.

He hurriedly donned the silk robe and tied it sloppily around his waist, leaving nothing to the imagination. He walked quickly to his master's bedchamber.