Gladiator Love

Antony had just returned from the unwinnable battle…, which he won.

“We slaughtered them, left them bloodied and dead, or humiliated in their retreat.”

Dias questioned him about his motives for what was, thought to be, a suicide mission.

“Such honour, such prestige,” Dias said. “Being hopelessly outnumbered bare no question?”

“I won, didn’t I?” boomed Antony.

 “It was such a risk, as they had more then twice the me.”

“A risk clearly worth taking.”

“This time,” said Dias. “Surely luck played some part and one day the lady wouldn’t be at your side?”

“They were disorganised, with no idea how… how…” Antony smiled. “I think even you and the women could have been victorious.

Dias was also unhappy about being left at home in the village with the women. “Yes, I get to stay home wit the women and children? How do you think that made me feel?”

“You would be more effective here, until you gain more expeirnce.”

“What effect will my actions have on the village?" 

"They needed someone to stay and watch over them.”

"How many people will I affect?"

“You affect them by making them feel safe and protected.”

“I want to fight them enemy, be a soldier, not feel like I am little more than just a baby sitter.

"How do I stay true in battle, when I have to keep one eye out for you?" 

"It wouldn't have been like that," said Dais. “It wouldn’t.”

"Where do my responsibilities lie,” said the Centurion Antony to his young apprentice. He took his metal breast-plate off, exposing his muscular chest, laying it down on the mat.

“Your time will come, Dias.”

The younger, blond centurion, Dias, goosed Antony, right up under his pleated skirt, as he was turned away. Antony wore no underwear and was hairy and well developed. He was equipped to quiet his young apprentice, there was no doubt about it.

Dias became passive in the magnificence of the older centurion’s presence. Antony was benevolent with his obvious power and superiority.

“I’m a man now,” said Dias. “I’m eighteen. I’m ready.” He flexed his arm muscles, they were big and defined.

Antony took Dias in his arms and pushed him down onto the straw, face first. He pulled Dias’ short tunic up over his back to expose Dias’ muscular arse. He ran his fingers down threw the hairy crack of his arse, taking his own hardening cock in his hand.

“I know you are ready, my boy.”

He cradled his shaft in his palm and dropped big gobs of spit down onto it.

“Please, make me a man, Antony. Please.”

Antony pushed his saliva drench penis into the young apprentices arse crack.

Dias breathed in sharply. “Yes sir, please sir.”

Antony pushed forward, Dias Yelped and bucked. Antony pushed forward again, when Dias went to yelp and buck again, Antony pushed on the back of Dias’ head sharply, pushing his face into the straw. He pushed himself forward unmercifully.

“Ahhhhhhh,” moaned Anthony slowly, as Dias’ sweet arse let go and Antony felt himself slide into the future centurion.

Dias jumped and squirmed and bleated in pain, but Antony didn’t stop, he didn’t release the pressure or the intensity he was baring down on his young charge.

“I know what’s good for you, Dias.” Antony was up on his knees and fucking Dias’ arse hard. “Don’t you forget that!”

Together they lay in the straw, sleepy. Dias was cradled as he drifted off into his dreams, his legs laying between Antony’s thick legs, his head on Antony's chest.

Antony played with Dias nipples, poking through the hairs on Dias’ hairy chest, gently with one hand, as his other arm held Dias's shoulders.

The sun slipped behind the hills and all that could be heard was the croak of the frogs in the lake outside.

Dias lay his head down on Antony's chest. There was peace in the land.