The Gladiators

(All characters are over 18)

Full disclaimer: This is a rewritten work of a previous story. One of my favorites. Major plot points still the same but many things different.

Full warning: Slow burn. Exploring Enemy to Lovers trope.

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The slaves lined up on the steps as their master checked their bodies for imperfections. They were the four best gladiators.

Master Slave Julian made sure to treat them as such. He was a giant fat man, covered by an extensive white robe illustrated with red roses which dragged on the floor as he walked, examining muscles closely.

He stopped beside Tull and inclined his head towards the injury on the gladiator's right thigh. A slight slash from a sword; the man who did it was dead now. Clicking his tongue, Julian reached for the thigh and forced the wound to gape open with his thumb. Where before Tull only felt a slight burn turned into boiling hell. He tensed up but showed no other reaction.

Julian was not afraid of retribution from his slaves. He had four guards with him, a few more outside the display room. The gladiators were also heavily chained and watched. Tul was in the middle with Cicero, the other two on the extremities were Marcellus and Felix. Stone-faced, they looked straight ahead. They were heavily muscled and masculine. Each one bore different scars, some recent, some from a distant past.

"A few scratches here and there," Julian said with his grating voice. "But the four of you proved yourselves once again. The people will think of nothing else but the blood spilled on the arena."

The fat man sighed dramatically and retreated his touch from Tull. "However, my boys, I bring sad news." He waited a bit more and seemed disappointed that his slaves stayed somberly silent. "Oh well, it hurts me to say that your reign as the four best gladiators of the empire will come to an end soon, at least for three of you. You will fight each other."

Tull blinked. He knew that the others were showing as much reaction as him, but he could feel the weight of the words on all of them. They knew it would happen eventually.

"Get ready for the next few weeks," the Master continued in a high-pitched voice. "You will be divided into duos. One duo shall fight the other. Then the champions will fight each other." Once he was finished, he scurried off with his guards while the four slaves were led to the cleaning pools where the women would take care of their current wounds.

Tul was glad to enter the warm pool, washing off the filthy in the warm water, while a healer waited beside the stone edge. The water cleaned his bloody thigh and cleansed the rest of him. He got out and let the woman healer do her thing. His eyes wandered around, catching a glimpse of Felix. His pool was right beside his with him still bathing.

Green-eyed, fierce looking, but still able to charm those around him with his smile, Felix was the reason Tul was glad to have the opportunity to fight the other champions. The only problem was that Felix deserved his reputation. He could probably fight the other three and still win.

Tul shook his head at the coward thought. He would win. He would kill Felix.

Unexpectedly Felix stood up and walked off the pool, splashing water where he passed. The long hair reaching down to his shoulders was coal black. He never looked around even though Tul was still staring at him.

When the healer was done putting the augment on the slash, Tul was given a nice clean tunic to cover his lower body, then two guards took him to his new cell. He assumed it was a new cell because the way was different. His assumption was proven correct. And even though the thick iron bars locking him inside were familiar, the extravagance inside took his breath away. It was maybe thrice the size of his previous cell. The walls were marble, clean and white, and the floor was carpeted. The furniture included beds and tables laden with grapes, hams and different kinds of nuts. Tul was enchanted by the big bottle of wine. He noticed that there were two...two bottles of wine, two tables, two beds...

"My partner finally arrived." His voice was a like a squeezing grip on Tull's newfound hope.

"No," Tul said. He tried to resist getting inside, but the guards ignored him. There was nothing else he could do. The guards locked the iron doors and left.

Tul walked to the unoccupied bed and sat. He avoided looking at the other man as much as he could. Maybe he didn't have to wait for the arena after all. Maybe he needed only to wait for bedtime.

"I understand how you feel," Felix said. Tul quickly connected gaze with him, heartbeats growing fast.

"Do you?" Tul asked.

"Yes. I also mistrust this..." He pointed around the room. "They are trying to hide slavery as gratitude. Make no mistake. I think none of us are going to survive the next few weeks. Still, I will do what I do best, which is fight. For that we will need to work together...at least for now." He got up and extended his hand.

Tul shook it, somehow managing to hide his true feelings.

"Yes...I agree. Is that wine?" Tul said.

Felix's darkened face opened into a smile as he nodded. As dark as he thought those showings of gratitude were, he had been enjoying it by himself before Tul arrived, and presently he began to boast and laugh while they enjoyed their food and drinks.

As for Tul and his true feelings, he understood that the next few days were going to be hard, even if there was going to be no arena. He was going to spend a lot of time with the man he hated and the man he was planning to kill.

He later laid down on his bed satisfied with his performance, with Felix on the other side thinking he had charmed a new friend. Tul thought about smothering his life while he slept but resisted the urge.

He woke up in the middle of the night by some guards. They took Felix away. They said nothing to each other. Tul didn't sleep again until Felix returned a few hours later. He had no smiles.

Tul had an idea of where Felix had been taken and what he had been doing. It gave Tul great satisfaction to know that the rumors were actually true. Felix was Julian's private whore. Tul could think of no other reason, or maybe he didn't want to believe any other reason. He almost asked, but decided to stay silent. Unfortunately Felix did the same.

Just when Tul was slipping back to sleep, the ground rumbled and the world shook angrily and violently.

Startled, Tull sat up on the bed. The empty wine bottle on the table close to him fell to the ground. Felix was up and standing, and managed to save his. The ground kept shaking for a few more seconds, then stopped all of a sudden.

The torch on the wall outside of the bars survived. A few breaths of apprehension led to relief and a shared look between the gladiators.

"Am I mistaken or was that the strongest one yet?" Felix said. Instead of going back to bed he decided to drink a little wine.

"It seemed so. Vesuvius is speaking louder and louder."

"Maybe he's greeting the senator."

"What do you mean?" Tul asked. His eyes followed Felix's graceful footwork around the pieces of broken glass on the floor while carrying a full cup.

"A Senator is coming. One of the Emperor's closest friends, too. That is why we are here. And that is why we are going to fight those other two idiots."

"And how do you know that?" he asked. Felix gave him a knowing smile.

"Being that disgusting pig's bitch has its perks..." Felix said. Tull was caught by surprise and didn't know what to say. "I'll kill him one day. I'll slash his huge belly open and watch the guts spill out through the gash. But...he tells me things."

Later Tull turned his back on the bed, musing on what Felix had said. He thought that he would rejoice more in Felix's shame. Maybe it had been the nonchalant way he had admitted to being a slut that took away all the pleasure from Tull. He wanted Felix to writhe in his own shame, bleed from the insides of his arse, walk like an idiot after being pounded like a bitch. Did Julian use him like a woman? He wanted to ask that. To have his dignity stripped away...

But Tull had lost his dignity long ago when he became a slave. They were all without dignity here.

Only Felix's death would suffice that hunger for revenge.

During the day they were taken to the arena for training. Scorching sun on their backs, Tull and Felix trained with wooden weapons against other men or even beasts. After, they shared one cleaning pool, and Tull avoided eye-contact. Then they came back to their cell with the plenty restored, more wine, more food.

"Why are you holding back?" Felix asked. "I can tell you are...in our training. I've seen you fight."

Tull had been munching on a chicken wing and kept chewing calmly.

"Marcellus and Cicero were there too. I got distracted watching them," Tul said straight-faced.

"Hm. That is smart."

Tull swallowed his own anger as well as the chicken...As if he needed his compliments.

"You don't talk a lot, do you?" Felix said.

"Not when I'm eating."

Felix grasped the icy tone and stopped inquiring. But Tull noticed the side-eyes going his way. He wondered if Felix begun to catch on the hate he felt.

Later that night Felix was once again skittered away from the cell, only to return a few hours later silently. Felix began to sigh loudly, and Tull recognized the need to talk but was incredibly happy to deny it. He dozed off.

"Tull."

Tull woke up alarmed by the proximity of the whisper. Felix was sitting on his bed right next to his body.

"What are you doing?" he growled.

"It's only me," Felix said, cheerful but still guarded. He lost his smirk when Tull only stared death at him. "It's only you and me here is what I mean. Julian leaves my butthole very prepared..." Felix began to falter. Maybe he could see the outrage in my face. "Why waste...the lubrication, understand me? I could let you come inside me."

"Get away from me," Tull said, kicking right in his underside. Felix went flying down, causing the wine bottle from Tull's table to fall once again. Felix cursed loudly, and Tull got up ready to fight 'til death.

Felix, still on the ground, refused to look at him. He was not going to fight. Instead he crawled up and went back to his bed, turning his red-marked back to Tull. They looked fresh like the whip had just been used on the back.

Tull hoped that each lash hurt more than the last.

A guard came to see what had happened but no gladiator told him anything. Somehow one of the guards must have correctly guessed because on the next day, as Tull was on the way to the arena for more training, he was separated from Felix and taken to the display room and to Julian.

"Look at me," Julian commanded. Tull did. Julian had a curved nose above moist puffy lips that did a horrible job in aligning with the rest of his round face. His ugly smile told Tull he was in trouble. "Gladiators are not suppose to fight each other before the arena, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you really? Then why did you fight my Felix?"

My Felix. Tull was disgusted.

"What happened? Tell me the truth."

"A small discord..."

"My guard tells me he saw Felix on the ground holding his belly. You do not touch him, understand? In fact, you obey him as if he were me. If I hear that something happened to him again, I will cut you up. Now go."

He was led back to the carriage that would take him to the Arena, where Felix was waiting with questioning eyes. Fuming, Tull ignored him.

They trained with wooden swords against each other. Tull didn't hold back then. Anger made him forget his plans of surprising Felix on their final fight, and swung on the offensive until his sword splintered. Felix was smiling when he was the only one with a weapon. He prepared to attack, but Tull jumped on him, receiving a blow right in his forearm. The wood caused an opaque sound when it hit the bone like a thud. The pain was blinding, but his sight had been red before and he brought Felix to the ground, punching his face. He was stopped before he could kill him. But he left a bloody nose and split lips. Felix, covered in blood, sat down on the sand and looked at him before passing out.

Things went numb after that. He got twenty whip lashes, cruel enough to open the flesh on his back and make him scream, and afterwards the wounds burned like salt was being actively thrown into them. He was treated quickly, though. He was a gladiator and it wouldn't do to lose such a resource.

But the worst thing in his mind was the possibility that he would lose the chance to kill Felix. He had it right in his hand and didn't finish the job. His cell was empty when he got there, and for the next two days, he was alone. No food. Just pain and despair.

In the middle of the third night alone, the guards opened the cell and Felix was brought in again. He just walked towards his bed, his face was marked and purple. Even though Tull didn't want to look at him, he was hesitant to turn his back on him, not out of fear, but out of shame of showing his wounds. He didn't want to give him the pleasure.

They stared at each other. Tull had ruined that handsome face, the nose would never be the same. He was glad to see. But he would have to play by the rules now.

Tull slept only after Felix turned his back.

He wanted to kill Felix in the arena, he was sure of it now. It would have to be the in the same humiliating way that Felix had killed Tull's brother. To accomplish that, he would have to defeat Marcellus and Cicero first.

Those two were very good gladiators. Champions in their own right. So Tul and Felix trained...as a team. At night Julian required Felix's presence, giving Tull moments of solitude. The grating noise of the iron bars always woke Tull up. He watched Felix walking out and in, sometimes he was thrown in. Tull wondered if Felix was causing trouble because the thrown-ins became more frequent.

One day Felix was thrown in and didn't get up. He stayed there for so long that Tull was roused to the idea he might be dead. He wasn't. Felix was awake, almost kissing the floor. He accepted the help to get up. With a movement that lifted the tunic, Felix gave a glimpse of his privates. Cock and balls were both locked in a big black ring. It looked tight and uncomfortable. With a closer look, Tull noticed many strange signs. Felix's face was red like it had been slapped many times. His arms and legs were marked by whip, though not so cruel as the one Tull had taken on his back. The strangest thing were tears on Felix's cheeks.

Tull never thought he would ever see the man cry.

"Take your hands off me," Felix said, and stumbled towards his bed.

There was a pang in his chest, but Tull refused to believe it was sympathy. He was happy. Crying was an astounding sign of weakness. He pried in hopes to feed on it.

"What happened?"

"None of your business," Felix said. No tears, no weakness, gone. He was himself again to Tull's chagrin.

Tull remained awake while his cell mate slipped into slumber. He heard the first grunt and thought the man was waking up, but as the noises progressed he realized it was a nightmare. Felix muttered in his sleep.

"No, no...Don't...leave him alone...I'll do anything..."

Tull was intrigued. But Felix suddenly sat up straight and after a moment of assessing the room, went back to sleep, but silently. Tull controlled his breathing, pretending to be asleep.

"Wake up, time to go, Greek," Felix said. They were in the cleaning pool after a harsh training against many men at once. Tull was troubled, though he didn't know why. He had been staring at the round ceiling.

"How do you..." Tull looked at him, surprised.

"Know that you are Greek? You still have an accent. And the way you handled that spear today..." Felix shook his head in appreciation. "Greeks have a special way to display their spears." He said that while Tull was standing up and looked straight into his cock. Surprisingly, Felix lost his composure for a moment and seemed genuinely surprised and apologetic. A red cloud crept up his neck and face.

Tull came close to being outraged again. But he was taken aback by the clear interest in those eyes which he hated, and the sincerity in the shame that came next. In a matter of seconds, his erection grew to full power. And that attracted not only Felix's glances but also the women healers and even the guards stumbled.

Tull tried his best to oppress his own arousal, but it only seemed to make it worse. He jiggled his way like an ass while his virility bounced until he was on his tunic. He made a tent for a few more minutes before subsiding.

He was usually not ashamed of his manhood. It was the lack of control that clawed at his pride.

Back in the cell, Felix stared at his crotch and Tull knew exactly what he was doing.

"Take your eyes somewhere else, deviant," Tull said.

"How long has it been for you?" Felix's voice trembled. "You are a man. For some reason, you hate me. What better way to punish a man you hate but feeding your cock to him?"

Tull almost said that there were many other better ways. Instead he felt his erection grow again. It made a tent on his tunic, and Felix knelt in front of him.

"Just put it in my mouth," Felix said. "I promise I won't bite it off."

Tull raised his tunic. He wouldn't do it, would he? But it sounded like a challenge. Tull was not afraid of getting his dick bit off. There was only way to prove it.

Tull promised himself he was not going to look, and he failed; that he wasn't going to enjoy it, failed; that he was not going to make any noise or move his own body or ejaculate his seed, failed failed failed. Later his big balls were left dry and hurting from the strain, and he looked at the remaining white cream on Felix's lips as he licked and ate it. What better way to punish a man you hate?

Something possessed Tull. He grabbed Felix's hair and thrust his cock on his face. His cock was big and brown, had always been a sight to behold, and he rubbed against the cheeks of the man he hated.

"This is what you deserve," he said, his voice low and guttural with all the hate he carried.

Felix smiled.

"Thank you, sir."

Tull shivered, even though he was sweating like a pig.

Speaking of pig.

"Not a word of this to your fat master, understand?" Tull said.

Felix's face darkened at the mention of Julian. He stood up without answering and went to his bed.

Tull woke up to the noise of guards opening the bars. Head lowered, Felix walked out once again to meet with the Pig. This time, Tull stayed awake, thinking about the whole ordeal from earlier and finding out he had many regrets. He quieted those regrets by self-assuring that he would kill Felix eventually. His day of reckoning would come.

He was still awake when Felix returned. He was being carried by two guards, unconscious. Tull looked at his naked chest, wide-eyed. There was a mark right in the middle, scorched in flesh, and Tull could smell it.

"He marked you?!" Tull asked, but Felix was blacked out. He was thrown inside.

"He acted out," one guard said, shaking his head.

Tull felt bad enough to bring the man to his bed. Then he stood there looking down at him. He ventured a hand to touch his face, slap slightly to see if he would wake up. Felix was out. Vulnerable, completely and utterly. Tull wrapped a hand around his neck and squeezed. The harder he squeezed, the more it felt like his own breath was leaving him. With eyes shut, he let out a groan and unwrapped his hand.

"Damn you. I wanna kill you in the arena. Wake up."

Felix didn't stir. But he was still breathing. In silence Tull sat beside him, contemplative. A part of him still couldn't believe he wasn't killing him. It took him a while to understand something. As Felix was blacked out and in his most vulnerable, he looked like a child. He had a hard face, filled with scars, but all those lines disappeared.