#gladiator!toji

And one time, when your husband got overly excited with an idea of participating in the games himself, you almost burst from happiness. The idea of this weak, pathetic man, finally gone from your life, sent a shiver of excitement down your spine, although his senatorial position indeed bathed you in luxury.

You glanced over your husband's shoulder, nodding towards the servant to bring in the desserts, for you truly couldn't listen to him any longer.

"Would you like to join, my dear?"

Your brows creased as you tried to remember what exactly he was talking about just a minute before.

Ah, yes. Gladiatorial games.

"You know I'm not quite fond of such a brute, husband."

Morning sun caught lazily on the utensils, bathing the whole, long table in dancing strokes. Warm rays kissed the back of your neck as the ravishing garden, together with a marble pool, spread outside the big windows of your mansion.

"All senators bring their wives; you should join us, too. The fights will be quite exciting this year; we have a lot of good gladiators. I paid lavishly for their training, you'll see."

For a man of such a high position, your husband was quite a fool and dull at that. There was no love in your marriage nor happiness, but you felt quite pleased whenever he was leaving you alone and enjoying his time in yearly festivities, which always included his favourite fights.

He invited you everytime – to join all other senators, chat with their wives and watch how men and animals are killing one another. To wonder at the excitement that such fights always woke in everyone, even in other senators' wives, who usually strolled away from any barbarian events.

And although you truly didn't want to put in your two cents' worth, maybe you indeed should check it at least once. Particularly now that your husband was on a good path towards the promotion and buttering him up would be more than beneficial. Maybe he would stop his embarrassing attempts to fill his marital role and satisfy you during nights, especially since you already gave him two children.

"Mother, can we join too?"

Speak of the devil.

"No, you're still too young–"

But your husband seemed to have another perspective, scoffing under his nose and pointing at your son with a dirty knife. His mouth was full, as he stated. "Of course you may, my son. You too, daughter. You should see those men – they may be slaves, but have the power of a hundred lions! Maybe we should buy one, huh?"

Your son was a copy of your husband, with the same devilish smile and slightly arrogant tone, looking up to his father as if he were an emperor himself. Your daughter, on the other hand, was of a kind sort and rather quiet, always keeping to herself, remind you of your younger days.

And as much as you loved your children, they were your tie. Pulling you down to the miserable life you've led, without any tenderness nor joy. It was rich coming from a person of your class, but the truth was that you craved an adventure for your whole life. Yearned for a fiery romance, awaited some excitement, wished to spend your days outside this lavish mansion, not feeling trapped and strangled by all the riches and life as a noble.

Not to mention that your husband always tried to keep you close by his side, either locking you up in the house or never allowing for any travelling.

Truly miserable, suffocating life you've had.

Until that faithful day, when your whole family finally joined the gladiatoral games.

It was the first day out of the planned month, with spectators already glimmering with excitement and wine cups clutched in their hands. The special lounge for senatorial families was right on the podium, offering the greatest view of the arena. Low and prestigious, with marble seats forged for the noble ones, comfortable and hidden enough to protect their smooth skins from the scorching sun. It was another sizzling day, with your flowy robes giving you some comfort under the merciless rays that wished to drill a hole in your head. White tunic tickled your ankles, uncovered shoulders glimmered in sweat, as your golden bracelets and dangling hairpins moved gracefully with your every step.

Other senators were already there, and you nodded toward them politely, as they completly ignored you and indulged in another dull chat with your husband. Their wives sat on marble benches, chittering between one another and taking little sips of wine, which was waiting for everyone together with a few snacks. You wondered how anyone could eat in such a scenario, as your stomach twisted just from the sheer fact of being here.

The amphitheatre was almost full, with stony seats bending under the excitement of all the spectators and the emperor himself already waiting for the first fighters to appear. The raised box glowed in gentle beams, the emperor's gold laurel reflecting the warm rays of sunshine, as he finally raised his hand.

"It's starting," your husband whispered, squeezing your hand as his eyes glimmered with anticipation. "All gladiators will walk in and present themself to the emperor. Then they'll do some rounds around the arena, so everyone will have a chance to see them from up close."

You had no idea why your husband decided to give you instructions, so nothing but a quiet sigh pushed your lips. The air was heavy and dry, with a dust rising from the scorching sand that filled the arena, as the first fighters stepped in through the metal gate.

All of them wore different armour, helmets, and weapons. Each man of a different height and size, some looking wide as mountains, others rather sicklish, and you wondered whether they would drop out first. You did know, however, that gladiators were divided into various types, with each one trained for something else. Some of them heavily armoured, others not. Some carried a short sword and a round shield, others a scimitar. Ones battling only animals, and the others fighting against one another.

You observed them with little to no interest, rather bored, with sweet wine tickling smoothly down your throat. Your husband sitting at the chair's edge, peeking at the row of fighters parading in front of the emperor's podium, before a loud "Hail, Emperor, those who are about to die salute you!" cut through the restless air of the amphitheatre.

Sounded like a death sentence rather than a declaration of a professional fighter, as your husband loved to call them.

You didn't want to belittle them, but the truth was, these men lost their will for glorious fights a long time ago. The moment they were taken away as slaves, stolen from defeated armies and brought back to the foreign lands. Stripped of their dignity, titles, and lives, pushed into brutal entertainment that Romans of all statues loved and cherished.

What was it with such a passion for overwatching the death of others? Why was your husband almost foaming as the fighters started to walk around the arena, getting closer and closer to their sponsors' lounge?

"You see that one?" his fingers showed a masked man with a bronze helmet and face covered by a fishnet. One of his hands carried a big shield, while the other held a sword. "His name is Toji. A beast, truly. I've been sponsoring him for a while, he has never lost a fight."

All fighters moved your way swiftly, their heavy legs raising dusty sand in the air, covering muscular legs up to their knees. He looked massive, indeed like a beast. Towering over other fighters, with sun-kissed skin and nothing but a loose robe hugging his hips. Broad chest glimmered with sweat, and the covered face looked up towards the senator's lounge immediately.

Your husband raised two fingers, already babbling about how he's gonna invite him for a fest tonight. Give a little motivation to win all the other fights, domesticate his own little beast, and bring in more money.

Your eyes scanned the way his muscular legs moved smoothly, arms bulging under the carried weapons, head slightly tilted, as if looking at... you?

Impossible.

A row of men stood in front of senators, another round of applause directed towards their sponsors, as they finally hid back in the amphitheatre's dark tunnels. The first fight would start soon.

"My dear," you mumbled, trying to sound halfhearted. "Who is this man going to fight with?"

Your husband peeked at you with crinkled brows, but also a hint of curiosity, as to why his spoiled wife suddenly took an interest in gladiator fights.

"I'm not sure, probably with the strongest type. He's of a heavily armoured type, thus should compete with a fighter carrying a scimtar and a smaller shield. All of them are quite ferocious, I'm afraid, but Toji never had problems." He looks quite proud, and you hum quietly.

You wanted to ask further, but a sudden melody of a flute sliced through the air, followed by horns and laughter from the spectators, as the first pair walked in. Both looked strikingly different, with one wearing a helmet and a wide, leather belt, bearing a heavy sword in his hand, while the other was armoured in nothing but a metal piece on the left arm, a long spear and a chained fishing net, as if meaning to trap it's oppnent under its trickery hooks.

"Aren't they quite unmatched?" you asked, seeing that one side definitely had a bit of an edge.

Your husband peeked down at your furrowed brows, truly mesmerised by the sudden interest. "Why are you suddenly so curious?"

"You whined that other senators' wives care much more than I," your eyes darted toward the women busied by a chatter, before going back to your husband's quite unhandsome face. "So why the sudden complaint?"

He scoffed, muttering something under his nose, before pointing his finger at the heavily armoured fighter. "You see, he's the secutor. Or pursuer, as you will see based on his attacking style. He indeed has a bit more advantage, but if you look at that man," he moved towards the other one. "You'll see that he, in fact, also has quite a benefit. This fishnet is a deadly weapon if used properly. Quite light, but it can trap you within a second. Secutors usually fight against retiariuses, the most lightly armed ones."

You thought that your husband's favourite gladiator looked quite the same to the pursuer, except for the helmet that rather more distinctive than this one.

"Does it mean that Toji will also fight against such a man?"

"Toji was trained as a murmillo, who usually fights against the thracians. They're both quite fierce and heavily armoured, thus the fight will be much harder."

Your husband's words came and went, sounding rather strange and dull, but somehow piqued your interest as you started awaiting the fight of his precious gladiator. What was it about him that got him so excited? Was he truly that good?

Before you could ask another question, the fight started.

It was brutal and raw, with blood spilt in the first ten minutes. The light fishnet indeed trapped the heavy armoured gladiator in its merciless clasp, before his opponent pushed the sharp spear straight into his ribs, cutting through his flesh, turning the fetal head as it slowly turned red, with screams and wailings coming from the defeated fighter.

When the gladiator went down, shrieks of "He's had it! Kill him! Kill him!" moved like a wave through the arena, with the roundness of the amphitheatre letting them become even more piercing, even fiercer. Both nobles and commoners were running their lungs out till the wounded one finally raised a finger of his left hand.

"What is he doing?" you asked, seeing his opponent suddenly stopping in his tracks. No further blows were made, although you thought that the man would be finished right here and now.

"The crowd decides about his life," your husband explained, and a second later, multiple fingers around you were held up.

Some pointed down.

Some sideways.

A few, fewer than the rest, lifted upward in mercy.

The wounded gladiator lay curled upon the sand like a broken animal, the net still tangled around his legs, crimson soaking the pale grains beneath him. His chest rose in ragged bursts, breath whistling through bloodied teeth.

A pause stretched across the amphitheatre, thick with anticipation. Fifty thousand Romans leaned forward as one body.

Then the signal came.

A downward motion of the hand.

The arena erupted in shouts of excitement, with nothing but "Finish him!", slashing through your ears.

The victorious gladiator didn't hesitate for a second, driving the spear down again, this time clean beneath the collarbone. He pierced him like a butcher, and the dying man trembled as a fish, all limbs sprawled on the dirty sand, helmet long gone, with a few strands of hair stuck to bloodshot eyes.

Servants hurried in immediately, hooks dragging the corpse away, while your eyes were still glued to the bloody trail left after the man.

The crowd was already restless for more.

Your husband leaned back with satisfied ease, clapping slowly along with the other senators.

"Good kill," he murmured.

You didn't say anything, but your throat bobbed, and lips suddenly felt too dry, as another pair walked in.

And another. Another. Another.

Until the surface of the giant arena looked rather like a butcher's shop, with crimson trails and puddles, slowly shifting into a gummy clot.

Your husband cheered and clapped after every fight, and your son followed his steps, laughing as if proudly upon seeing another body getting removed from the arena.

But then your attention had drifted.

The gates beneath the arena floor groaned open again, iron chains rattling like distant thunder. A horn sounded, long and low, calling for the next combatants.

And when he stepped into the light, the entire amphitheatre shifted.

Even before the herald shouted his name.

Toji.

He walked onto the sand like something dragged from the wild places of the earth – a beast, soldier, warrior. A man.

Taller than most fighters by a full head, shoulders broad enough to shame a bull, his body carried the kind of brutal strength no training yard could fully tame.

Sunkissed skin gleamed under the Mediterranean sun, every movement pulling thick ropes of muscles beneath it. You've heard he served in the army before they took him as a slave, which would explain the old scars slashing his back and torso – deep, white lines mapping his skin, carved like in a marble Godly figures.

You've noticed a slight change in his armour, compared to one presented before.

A leather belt bound his waist, single cloth covering the shameful parts, a single iron guard lapping his arm and a greave clasped around his left leg. The rest of him was bare, unapologetically exposed, as if sculpted by Gods themselves.

His weapon rested easily in his hand, a short and thick sword, built for killing at arm’s length.

But it was not the blade that made the crowd go mute.

It was the way he moved.

Slow. Controlled.

Like a predator, with a damp helmet sitting heavily on his thick neck. You wondered what secrets it held beneath. How did his eyes look as he moved his head towards your lounge, a single movement which sent a shiver down your spine.

Around you, whispers spread through the senators' seats like sparks through dry straw.

"That’s him."

"The undefeated one."

"The barbarian."

Your husband looked like a child who had just got a new toy. His whole body moved forward, hands gripping the armrest of the marble seats. A visible shiver of excitement went through his body, and it seemed as if it touched you too. Your heart suddenly felt heavier, as if burdened by the anticipation of seeing what the beastly man in front of you was able to. To see his muscular arms at work, sword piercing through his opponent's chest, before he could take the helmet off and finally, finally, let you see those eyes that felt as if glued to your cunning figure.

Toji rolled his shoulders once, the movement sending a ripple through his massive frame. Sand shifted beneath his bare feet as he stepped toward the centre of the arena.

Across from him, the next opponent emerged – armoured, shielded, disciplined.

A proper Roman fighter.

The horn sounded again.

And for the first time since the games began, the amphitheatre fell almost silent.

Because the fight was fast.

Maybe too fast, with his oponent chargin forwards right after the last melody of the horn fell flat, getting hit by a Toji just a minute later. They exchanged a few parries, blows, dodging and trying to find each other's openings, before Toji finally did it. His sword flashed, and a wet sound followed, with a blade biting deep into the man's thigh, slicing through his flesh and muscles with ruthless efficiency. Blood gushed down the golden grains, soaking the pale arena sand.

His rival was of similar posture, but nevertheless a bit shorter with rather less defined muscles, now collapsing beneath the blazing sun with a strangled cry. His fingers clawed at the dust, trying to drag himself upright, before Toji kicked his chest without a sweat.

For a moment, both of them simply looked at one another. A peaceful second of silence, right as his opponent grabbed a fistful of sand, as if hoping the earth itself would drag Toji down into limbo.

And before he could give him a final blow, strike with this unwavered confidence, gauge stubborn eyes that burned through Toji's skull, the man raised his finger.

Appeal for mercy.

The crowd erupted immediately.

Some shouted for death.

Others laughed, already drunk on violence.

Your husband leaned forward slightly, his lips curling with amusement as the editor of the games waited for the verdict of the arena.

Thousands of hands moved, with an air quickly shifting under the heavy motion, as if the gentle wind itself suddenly changed the pacing, swirling around the bare fingers.

And once again, the signal came.

Downward.

Toji didn't hesitate, plunging the sword clean beneath the ribs, swift and quite merciful compared to the chaos of the fight. The defeated gladiator exhaled sharply, his body stiffening, jolting, a trace of blood spilling from his lips, before he collapsed lifeless against the relentless sand.

A roar exploded through the amphitheatre.

Toji pulled the blade free, wiping it against the fallen man’s tunic before raising it briefly toward the stands in acknowledgment of the crowd.

Blood streaked his forearm, glistening under the Roman sun.

For a fleeting moment, his gaze lifted higher than the arena floor.

Towards the noble seats.

Towards you.

And though the distance was great, something was unsettling in the tilt of his head, a tremble of his chest, as if he pushed out a strangled laugh.

You looked at him for a while, with squinted eyes and a white tunic suddenly feeling a bit too tight around your chest. Droplets of sweat trickling down the velvet skin of your neck, heart fluttering as you looked from above at the man, who suddenly woke in you a sense of rush you haven't felt for a long time.

⟡⟡⟡

Your husband's message was clear – Toji must join the feast. The man blabbered all the way back to the mansion, already hung with lavish decorations and lit by a trail of gentle torches that decorated the walls and corners of your house. The fest was to be held for the nobility and the start of another fruitful games season, which would bathe your husband in glory for sponsoring such a fine gladiator.

Toji's presence was a mere brag, a showcase of your husband's valuable slave who, in fact, was nothing but just a slave. A chained beast that played as your husband wanted, although from what you've heard, he had already earned his freedom.

"Why is he still fighting, then?"

You've asked, preparing yourself for the feast that was supposed to start in a few hours.

Your husband sat at the terrace of your bedroom, the slowly setting sun basking his grey hair in gentle strokes of straw hues, with a velvety wine swirling in a held cup.

"No one's waiting for him. Some of these men have nothing but these fights. Toji gets the roof and the glory for merely doing what he's best at. You think a life of an solider was any better?"

You didn't know, because you've never had a chance to talk to another man. A gladiator or a soldier, at that. You were nobody but a pretty, youthful wife, spending her days on strolls around the garden and chatting with noblewomen, till you wished for nothing else but to slit your throat and finally die in peace.

The mansion you hated so much was your only playground, and you knew its walls as the back of your hand. Every polished nook, every secret room, far from the prying eyes of your servants. With bold dreams to leave it one day and see the world beyond these creamy walls and single trips to the city, with your husband's hand always glued to the curve of your back.

So no, you didn't really have a chance to think about the lives of soldiers.

You glanced at the mirror, smoothing the bluish folds of your dress. It was simple, yet cunning in its grace, brushing softly against your ankles as you moved, the fabric whispering with every careful step. It clung sweetly to the curve of your waist and plush breasts, the low neckline revealing the delicate stretch of collarbones and softness of your skin, glowing faintly beneath the last warm rays of sunshine.

A long band of golden cloth wrapped around your middle, accentuating the dip of your waist before falling in loose folds to your knees, swaying like liquid sunlight with every smooth step of your feet. The contrast of blue waves and golden grain made you appear almost celestial – like a goddess stepping down from a painted myth.

Hair fell gently over the shoulder as the first guests started to appear. Eyes of men glued to the glow of your skin, women blushing gently under the stern smile that turned your lips.

Oh, how gorgeous the senator's wife was, with this sweet touch of perfume that lingered around you, almost as if a lush garden bloomed right under your silky skin.

You walked around the main room, greeting certain nobles – senators, aristocrats, other sponsors, who, similar to your husband, put their money in this year's games.

Dress skimmed your skin as you observed the banquet growing louder, bustier, with more and more people filling the walls of your mansion, already laughing drunkenly and glimmering with excitement for the next fights.

You stood next to your husband, smiling politely, fingers gripping the wine cup, eyes glued to the front doors, as if waiting for a certain guest to come through them.

And when his burly body finally filled the frame of mahogany doors, your chest faltered.

Dark hair clung to his neck, and sharp, emerald eyes scanned the room with quietness. He stood tall and broad, upper body covered by an iron guard, a red cloak flowing down his muscular shoulders. His hips clutched by an aproan skirt, with a deep crimson cloth grazing his knees. Light brown sandals wrapped around his firm calves, as single straps pushed against the muscles.

"Finally, the man of the hour!" your husband clapped and laughed heartily, pulling you towards the gladiator.

He didn't look like a slave at all, as you expected the chains around his wrists and a whole bunch of soldiers to escort him straight to your mansion. No, he looked rather like a general, a man worthy of all the gossip, standing proud and towering over both you and your husband. His scarred lips turned into a mild smirk before head dipped down to greet the senator.

"Thank you, senator, for the invitation. I'm honoured to be a part of your banquet," his voice was deep and steady, as he straightened up and moved his heavy gaze towards you.

A nymph.

A goddess.

A woman, who must've been born of the sea shell itself, the Venus of Heaven, because a single flatter of your eyes, a gleam of the gold necklace posing softly between your breasts, a swoosh of this ocean's dress that hugged your hips tightly, made this man's knees weak.

And his knees, in fact, were anything but weak.

"Great fight, Toji. You truly have nothing on these men," your husband squeezed his shoulder with laughter before he pointed at you. "Please, meet my wife. It was her first time seeing gladiator fights today. It seems like you've enamoured her!"

It was a mere joke, but a thin line of tension that hung between you and this beastly man suddenly shimmered, as his scarred lips lifted in a sly smile, and your cheeks suddenly felt hottish.

"My lady, I hope I did not disappoint you," he whispered, head once again dipping slightly down. He wished to take your silky hand and kiss it softly, but he was still nothing but a mere slave whose touch was too filthy for a woman of your sort.

"I was anything but disappointed. Quite interesting, I must say, although I do rather condemn the whole idea of these fights."

Your honeyed voice made him tremble – head still dropped, eyes glued to the way your plush thighs moved under the flimsy robes of the dress.

"Does it mean you won't come to tomorrow's fight?"

He straightened back up, once again towering like a bear over your figure. He swore that a golden, divine halo seemed to lick your skin, as he's never seen someone beaming with such loveliness.

Your forehead creased, a gentle furrow appearing between your brows, while he waited for the answer anticipated the most.

"Maybe. Do you plan to win it?"

"If my lady wishes to, I will."

Your husband smiled foolishly for this whole time, as if not feeling the thin thread that seemed to form between you and his slave. Electrifying sparks scuffing your fingers, like electromagnets that hoped to connect your skin together with his.

Before you could grace him with another flatter of your doe eyes, another sentors circled him like ducks, quacking and touching the gladiator's hardened muscles.

Your husband showed him off like a trophy, as you moved away deeper inside the house, trying to hide your flushed cheeks and clear tremble of your breath.

The mansion was alive with noise.

Wine flowed freely, laughter echoing beneath painted ceilings where scenes of gods and heroes stretched across the plaster in fading colors. Lamps flickered along the marble walls, casting warm gold over clusters of senators lounging on cushioned couches, their voices rising louder with every emptied cup.

Servants drifted between them like ghosts – refilling goblets, carrying platters heavy with figs, roasted birds, olives glistening in oil.

You slipped away from it all.

Deeper into the villa, where the air cooled, and the sound of laughters softened into distant murmurs. The corridors here were dimmer, lit only by a few oil lamps resting in bronze holders along the walls. Marble beneath your sandals felt pleasantly cold, grounding the restless warmth still fluttering through your chest.

You paused near an open atrium, with moonlight spilling softly through the square opening in the roof and a small fountain murmuring in the centre. You sat near it, catching the little droplets that swirled between your fingers, down the golden bracelets that clanked with every move of your wrist.

And as you sat there alone, deep in thought, with nothing but a warm Mediterranean wind swirling the soft lock of your hair, you felt it.

Again.

This heavy presence, steps against the stone behind you, a slow pacing before it stopped somewhere in the dimmed corridors.

You turned, seeing Toji standing at the far end of the hall.

Even in the low light, his figure seemed enormous, filling the narrow passage like a shadow carved from muscle and bone. His devilishly handsome face was half-lighted by the warm fire of lamps, black hair stuck to his forehead, sharp chin tilting. He leaned against the marble wall, burly arms crossed on the chest.

"You're missing the feast, my lady," he murmured, eyes skimming your figure bathed in the pale glow of moonlight.

"I prefer quieter places," you turned back to the fountain, hearing him coming a bit closer.

"Not a fan of such gathering?"

A quiet scoff pushed through your lips. "Rather not a fan of my husband."

He chuckled, sitting right next to you on the little marble edge of the fountain. Gaze dipping down to the open neckline of your dress, before tracing up till the flutter of your lashes.

"A damsel in distress, aren't you?" his voice held a soft trace of mockery, and you glanced up at him with a wrinkle.

"My fate may not be as horrific as yours, but it doesn't mean I should be thankful for all the riches."

His head tilted, eyes glimmering with amusement, as scarred lips turned upward again. The emerald eyes lingered on you heavily, and you noticed that your breath hitched when his body moved closer. "You think my fate is horrific?"

"Is it not?"

He chuckled, leaning back on his palms, gaze turned towards the fairy moon. "I don't know, is there anything awaiting a man like me? The deal with your foolish husband is the best I can get. I live in single quarters, train young men in an imperial school to prepare them for games. Maybe I'll get hired out one day as a bodyguard of a wealthy politician, who knows."

Your finger traced the smooth droplets dripping from the fountain, eyes trying to not to outline the veiny forearms he leaned on. "What about a lover?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Lover?"

"A wife," you corrected yourself. "Did you have a wife before being taken as a..." the voice caught in your throat, as if defining him as that would be at least inappropriate.

"A slave," he finished, peeking secretly at the single lock of hair that skimmed your cheek and soft skin kissed by a rosy tint. "I didn't have a time. Was drafted into the army in my twenties, taken as a slave entering my thirties."

Oh, so he was older than you. Much older at that, although you shouldn't be surprised, seeing the mature lines of his handsome face and little wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. Refined muscles and broad shoulders that seemed to carry centuries of pain, with scars lapping his sun-kissed skin.

"I'm sor–"

That's all you could whisper before a faint sound echoes down the corridor.

Footsteps.

Servants.

Your eyes bulged, mind suddenly clear and overly aware, taking in the closeness between you and the man. His shoulder palm almost grazing your thigh, blush kissing your cheeks in a rather coquetish manner.

And without thinking, you grabbed his arm and pulled him towards one of the chambers used for storing linens and ceremonial fabrics. Toji moved just as quickly, with one hand pushing the door shut behind you, the moment you slipped inside.

Darkness wrapped around the small room, too small for his burly frame, as his body pressed close to yours. The only light came from a thin crack beneath the door, where lamplight from the corridor leaked through.

And suddenly, you realised what was happening.

Dear heavens, what have you done?

Your back was glued to his chest, heavy hand clamped over your lips, as he dipped down, shushing quietly to your ear.

Outside, the servants' voices drifted closer, together with the soft, girly giggles.

"Did you see the gladiator the senator brought? Oh my!" one of them whispered.

Your body stiffened when Toji pressed you harder against the wall, crushing your trembling figure with his heaviness. Iron-clad chest stuck to your back, but you nevertheless felt the warmth that drifted from his body. Sweet, ferocious, manly, licking your skin with flamish tongues, before his other hand landed on your hips, and low shhh once again filled the room.

"He killed that man like a lion," another woman replied with quiet excitement. "Such a brute, but handsome at that! No wonder noblewomen whisper about him."

Toji laughed quietly, but his voice flattened a second later, when your hips brushed against his. Back arched, head tilted, teary eyes squinting slyly, lashes quivering as the curve of your ass touched his front. And a gentle giggle pushed your lips, when you felt something hardening under your plush hips.

"You think someone will buy him?" the first servant asked curiously, as they both crossed the corridor in much slower pace than you wished.

"As a bodyguard?"

"Yes, surely, but a noblewoman could use him to her advantage as well," she sighed. Next words that spilt from her lips shot a tremor through your whole body. "Our lady could surely benefit from some pleasure. Such a sweet dove, but the senator..."

"You mean, they don't bed?" another one asked, while you tried to compose yourself, not to jump from this chamber and shush their mouths.

Toji saw a sudden change in your boldness. Your eyes no longer slyly squinted, but rather filled with a dread and anticipation to hear what else your servants had to say.

And, oh, he was anticipating too, pressing against you even harder, till your blush breasts squished to the marble wall and back arched even more slutily. Long fingers traced the delicate material of your dress, pulling it up up up, till they caught on the bare skin of your hip.

You wriggled, feeling the warmth coiling in your belly and wetness that suddenly trickled down your thighs. The smell of his musky sweat made your head spin, as his fingers slowly, slowly, dipped down to your clothed cunt.

A faint moan drove through your lips, but his heavy hand quickly suppressed it from leaking outside the tight space.

"You need to be silent, my lady. I'm sure you wouldn't wish for your servants to catch you in such an awkward situation?" he chortled, seeing the courteous nod of your head. "Of course you wouldn't," he ducked down, lips slowly tracing the smooth skin of your neck, "You smell fucking amazing, my lady. I'm sure you taste even better," his fingers cupped gently your clothed cunt, already soaked in sticky juices.

"They do bed, but our lady doesn't seem to take the pleasure! If you could only see her face after all these nights, oh my," you heard a faint tsk and could almost imagine her shaking head. "She's the happiest when the senator is away!"

They finally moved to the furthest parts of the villa, faint steps dimmed against the silence that fell upon you two.

No words were spoken, aside from the wet sounds of Toji's lips tracing the trail down your neck. Your breath shuddered, eyes closed, with an arm hooking around his neck. His hard cock pushed against the curve of your ass, fingers tracing the flimsy material of your undergarments, before slipping in slowly, slowly, trailing towards your drenched cunt. A quiet whine tumbled through your lips as pads of his fingers skimmed your pudgy mound, almost dipping long digits in the syrupy heat of your centre.

You wished to scream and cry, feeling the unbearable heat filling your body and the walls of your cunt clamping around nothing with a pulsing pleasure you've never felt before. He didn't even touch you properly, and yet the sheer thought of his hands caressing your body and lips crashing against yours was enough to roll a sharp cry from your throat.

And then–

And then he stopped.

Fingers that almost grazed your pulsing clit suddenly backed out. Muscular chest peeld of your wet back, with single droplets of sweat tracing down your neck. Hand slipped from your plump lips as you quickly turned back, seeing his faintly lit face, twisted in a smirk.

"Why did you–"

"What? What do you want, my lady?" he asked, and your body quickly stiffened.

As if the graveness of the whole situation washed over you only now. Right this second, with his two fingers still wet with your juices and his lips slowly licking them clean.

A low groan escaped his throat as he sucked on the sweetness of your cunt. "You do taste amazing, fucking hell."

"Please..." your voice was faint, doe eyes glued to his face.

"Please, what?" his voice was almost innocent, with a hint of smugness that made a shiver drip down your spine. He wasn't touching you anymore, and yet the heat coming from his body strangled your senses and loosened your tongue.

"Please, touch me," you blurted, thankful that he couldn't see your rosy cheeks. "I want you to touch me."

The space was cramped, but he managed to step closer, looking down at your teary eyes and short breaths from above.

"Are you that touch starved, my lady?"

Oh, you were.

You were so so starved, never reaching an orgasm with your husband, never feeling as desirable as you did during these past few minutes.

But before you could nod and pull him once again by the crimson cloak, he spoke. "Then come tomorrow."

"What?"

His palm cupped your chin gently, thumb pressing slightly on pouted lips, as emerald eyes glanced right into yours. "Come to games, cheer for me. Be my thropy for the won fights."

"You already have thropies and my husband's sponsorship."

He smiled faintly, eyes filled with a strange sense.

Begginess? Longing? Hunger?

"I wish to have nothing but you."

⟡⟡⟡

So you went to see his next game.

And the next one too.

Then the third, the fourth, till every game finished with him slashing the opponent, and you watching him with heated cheeks. With you visiting him secretly after each match, disappearing for those five minutes when your husband was too busy with other senators, and stumbling through the cold walls of Toji's room, kissing, panting, tracing your fingers through his wet scalp.

Five minutes.

Never more.

You never had time for anything else, so every meeting ended up with his leaking cock pushing on your belly, and your long robe sticking to drenched thighs.

You both never had enough.

Never controlled the way your lips moaned each other's names, how sparks flowed through your bodies the second skins touched, how you both always wanted things you couldn't have, as the sheer existence of this romance could make his head roll.

But you couldn't stop this feeling – the thrill, excitement, passion that came from being in his arms, with lips tracing wet trails down your breasts and your muffled moans he obediently swallowed with every kiss.

And one day... you didn't come.

Toji noticed it right away. The moment he stepped onto the sand, walking in through the heavy gate. It had become instinct by then – the first thing he did after the gates opened and the light struck the arena floor. His eyes lifted automatically toward the noble seats, searching the place where the creaminess of your robes usually caught the sun.

It was cold and empty, with only your husband leaning comfortably among the other senators, wine already in hand, clapping with lazy amusement as the fighters took their places below. But the figure that had begun to haunt Toji’s thoughts – the one that always sat just beside him, half-shadowed by silk and gold – was gone.

Then the next game came.

Still no sign of you.

By the third, the absence had begun to gnaw at him like a dull blade under the ribs. His attention wandered in ways it never had before. Strikes came half a second slower, but still heavy. Eyes looking at gushing blood and crimson sand stuck to his feet.

Around him, the amphitheatre screamed its usual hunger for violence, voices echoing like thunder beneath the curved stone.

But Toji barely heard it.

He looked again towards the seats.

Empty.

And then a thought came. A wild one, stupid, of a sort that would earn your mouthful and a gentle jab to his ribs. Yet it was persistent.

If you weren't here, perhaps it meant you couldn't come. Weren't allowed to, maybe?

And if that was true–

Your husband would notice.

Your husband would talk.

Romans loved stories of wounded champions, especially ones that brought heavy money and glory.

So when the next opponent lunged, Toji saw the strike clearly. A heavy downward slash that aimed for his ribs. One that wouldn't be enough to kill nor even cripple, but definitely worthy of gossip.

So when the blade cut across his side, he took a deeper breath and suffered the sudden pain that slashed through his body.

Fucking hell, the things he was ready to do just to see your smile again.

The crowd exploded, as he staggered half a step back, more for the spectacle than the pain, before the predator returned to his eyes. The fight ended seconds later, with his sword sliding beneath the other man’s guard, driving straight through muscle and lung.

The body fell, and the crowd roared again.

Toji stood over the corpse, chest rising slowly, blood running warm along his side.

And his gaze lifted once more to the noble seats.

Your husband was standing now.

Watching.

So now, Toji needed to wait.

And he did.

Patiently.

Days passed slowly inside the stone walls of the quarters. The cut across his ribs had already begun to close, though the tight white bandage wrapped around his torso reminded him with every movement that he had let the blade land there. It pulled slightly whenever he twisted or lifted his arms, a dull sting beneath the cloth.

His eyes kept drifting to the door.

Every sound in the corridor made his head turn – the scrape of sandals, the murmur of guards, the clatter of armour. None of them was yours.

So he waited.

The arena was closed to him for several days while the lanista insisted the wound heal properly. Instead of fighting, Toji spent the mornings training the younger slaves – boys barely old enough to grow beards, clumsy with their wooden swords and terrified of making mistakes.

He barked orders at them, corrected their stances, knocked their weapons from their hands with brutal precision.

But his attention wandered.

More than once he found himself staring past them toward the open doorway, as if expecting your pouty face to suddenly storm through them.

It never did.

By the afternoons the barracks quieted. Most gladiators slept, saving their strength for the next games, while the sun turned the courtyard into a white furnace of light.

That time was the worst. With him having nothing to do but still restless, with sandals kicking up the dusty sand and eyes tracing the path to his quarters.

Toji paced his small chamber like a caged animal, back and forth. From the bed to the door, from the door to the narrow window where the late sunlight spilled golden streaks right on his beddings.

His fingers often brushed the bandage at his ribs, pressing lightly against the wound as if to strain it. Maybe you didn't come, but it was still worth it.

Worth seeing the horror of your husband's face, its pallor, the twitching of his fingers. As if Toji, his precious slave, could really be that easily hurt.

He would surely pass such terrific news to others, and if the gods were kind enough, you would hear them.

Nights were coming one by one, with his faith slowly slipping away, and the heaviness in his chest feeling rather strange. He couldn't think nor eat, and all his anger was vented on those poor slaves, who were already frightened enough to even be here.

But Toji was stubborn and relentless, keeping a quiet certainty that you would come. You did it before. Again and again, slipping through the corridors of the amphitheatre just to steal those few reckless minutes with him.

You would come again.

He knew it.

So when the soft knock finally came one evening, barely louder than a breath against the wood, Toji was already moving before his mind had fully caught up.

He quickly opened the door, words slipping on one breath. "My la–"

But he couldn't finish as you pushed inside. Hand quickly closing the doors, dark cloak covering your lock, before you finally looked up.

And he trembled.

Oh, you were angry.

Furious, with flushed cheeks and staggered breath. Little fist that immediately punched his chest, before your eyes glanced down at the white bandage.

"You did it on purpose!"

He raised an eyebrow, hands moving towards your fuming cheeks, before you slapped them. "He told me! He told me everything. You knew he was going to strike you and still didn't dodge it. How could you?"

"It wasn't on purpose–" he lied, but you didn't let him finish.

Fingers suddenly grazed the bandage as you pushed the wound gently. Still hard enough to see his face twist painfully.

"My lady, are you ma–"

"Yes, I am mad if it's not obvious already. Why did you do it? Why did you let yourself get hurt?"

His eyes traced the rosiness of your cheeks, slightly wrinkled nose, creased eyebrows, as well as a smoke floating above your head – and you still looked divine. A goddess that stepped down from heaven alone, to seethe over this foolish slave, who needed you madly, obsessively, like a starved dog.

"Because I knew you would come," he finally confessed. "I knew it was the only way to let me see you again."

You stiffened, lips falling open. You would come sooner or later, but a sudden change in your husband's attitude, his unexpected rage and him locking you up inside the mansion was just a weekly occurrence that needed to happen. You knew it, your husband knew it, children too.

But Toji didn't.

So he gave up the thing he was doing best and let himself earn another nasty scar.

Just to see you.

Not even touch, but to once again glance at your full face and cherry cheeks, that somehow made his heart stop in its tracks. He would gladly get stabbed hundreds of thousands of times, just to be bestowed one last glimpse at the pout of your lips and this lovely laugh that always spilled through.

So before you could say anything back, his lips suddenly crushed against yours. In a raw, messy and wet kiss, with his scarred hand cupping your cheek and the other one drawing you closer.

Your hands tried to push him away, throat itching to reprimand him again, push and dig into this foolish wound, vent all of your anger and worry you needed to suppress for the past few days.

But you couldn't.

So your body let itself relax and melt in his muscular arms – beefy thighs between yours, one hand curling into your hair, the other lifting you up, till your body was gently pressed against the smooth beddings. You wriggled, moaned. Arms around his neck and fingers playing with black strands that stuck to his damp nape.

He covered you whole, with a broad back and heavy arms, chest pushed against yours, lips going down to your chin, neck, breasts. Licking, sucking, and moaning against your skin as the material of your dress started to stick to your inner thighs.

When you casually lifted up a leg, your knee grazed his wound. Quiet tsk left his lips, and you quickly pushed him away.

"Wait," your voice was fragile, hands falling weak on his chest.

He pulled away with a grimace and eyes quickly studying your flushed face. "Anything's wrong, my lady?"

"Your wound, let's change."

"What do you mean?"

Before he got an answer, you started moving. Hands on his shoulders, using all of your strength to lay this massive man down, till his head touched the pillow and your hips strangled his.

Toji raised an eyebrow, a little smirk turning his lips up.

"You wanna ride me, baby?"

Your heart suddenly fluttered, breath hitched, upon hearing this pet name.

And Toji saw it.

"You like that, my lady? You want me to call you baby?" his big palms fell on your hips, fingers cupping the folds of your dress, lifting the flimsy material up up up. "What else would you like? Hm? Dear? Love?" your body trembled when the dress locked around your upper thighs. "Slut?"

"S-stop," you quickly spat out, moving hips against his.

A low growl fled his lips before he tipped his head, glancing at you with a crafty smile. "You liked that? Wanna ride me like a good fucking slut, hm? Roll your pretty cunt on my cock? Come on, my lady, say what you want."

Your drenched, clothed folds rolled against his hardened shaft, painful pulsation washing over your body till more saps pooled around your clenching hole. So you smoothly slipped out of your dress, strangling his hips bare like a goddess, with heavy breasts and plump hips moving on his covered cock, already melting under the heat coming off your cunt.

Dear fucking, heavens. Toji must have been a saint in his previous life to be bestowed with such a view. With your fallen lips and misty eyes, fingers gripping shyly the cloth around his hips, and velvety skin basking under the pale moonlight creeping through his window.

"I want to suck you off," your voice was small but confident, with fingers already taking his clothes off, sliding the thin cloth with one move. "You're hurt, please let me take care of you."

"Fucking hell, do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" he mumbled, as his cock quickly sprang out, with hottish head sticking to his abdomen and your warm breath curling around it.

Based on all your previous, secret meetings, you knew that Toji was well bestowed. But seeing it now made your stomach turn. It looked absolutely delectable, even delicious, so so pretty, with veins curling around its fat shaft and pulsating head already drenched from precum. Your fingers traced through it, smearing the sticky sap around his shaft, rolling the head between your fingers.

Deep tremble washed through his chest, before you felt strong palms on your head.

"Wait a second, baby, I know you're starving, but wait."

You glanced up with glassy, sweet eyes full of anticipation.

"Fuck, don't look at me like that," he quickly moved up, lifting your body with the sheer strength of his arms.

And before you knew it, your hips were hovering over his face. Back turned, arched, cock right in front of you, with thighs around his head.

"That's more like it," he murmured, trying to pull your hips down.

But the memory of your husband, never being able to lift you up nor manhandle you like Toji did, somehow made you waver. "Wait, um, can we just do it normally?"

You didn't need to see his face to know that a frown formed on his forehead, and he probably lifted an eyebrow. "Normally? My lady, I've been waiting for this over a month, so please lower your pretty cunt down."

Oh, so nasty! Your ears scorched just from hearing the filth dribbling from his lips.

"Toji, you may or may not have noticed, but I birthed two children, and my body is not as light as before," words grumbled from your lips nervously, palms leaning on his abdomen as you tried to turn back. "I'm afraid my weight–"

And then – he scoffed. Laughed shamelessly, with a deep chuckle coming from the depths of his chest and tears almost dancing in the corners of his eyes.

He laughed, with your leaking cunt over his face, blush soaking your neck and soft thighs skimming his cheeks.

"Toji!" Oh, how embarrassed and feverish you felt, with this massive man having the audacity to actually chuckle in such a scenario.

"My lady," he finally grumbled, trying to pull your hips down. "Once I killed a fucking lion who rolled over me. Another time, I needed to dig myself out of the corpses that stumbled on me during the war. I'm almost sure that your cunt won't be the one to get me killed."

But when you finally sank down, with his nose sniffing the sweetness of your cum and tongue lapping your plump folds, he thought that maybe it was a lie.

Fuck, maybe your pussy could get him killed.

Its sweetness and creaminess, the honeyed saps that trickled down his throat and dripped from his chin. Long fingers parted your folds slightly, just to get a better view of your shimmering hole, ready for him to feast.

He was already acting like a madman, drinking, slurping, growling against your fluttering cunt, sending a shiver down your spine and spilling the sweetest moans from your throat.

But when your lips wrapped around his pulsing cock?

Fucking hell, he was ready to cum here and there, feeling your hot tongue and kitty licks on his shaft, with fingers curling around it shyly.

Toji was never easy to tame, and that's how he managed to achieve his freedom and glory. A beast, monster, who could crush a hundred men with a single swoosh of his blade. A fallen general and a brute, who accidentally got himself tangled in the whole gladiatorial thing.

He didn't mind it, for no one was waiting for him at home, and the idea of killing for the glory sounded quite amusing. He was risking his life, as there was no one he wished to live for.

But when you started rolling your hips and gushing even more honeyed cum on his tongue, he thought that, well, maybe he was quite easy to tame. Maybe he wanted to be tamed – trained, walk around your feet like a domesticated lion, feast on you every single morning, drink your syrupy cum as if it was the only ambrosia that could keep him alive.

"Mhmmm T-Toji, so good–" you mumbled, mouth popping off his fat cock, while fingers still worked him up and down, smearing your sweet drool all over it.

Your back arched when his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking it gently with a low, starved hum. "A-ah, T-Toji mmm–"

Your head dipped back down, tongue drenching his shaft, throat stretching up just take him deeper. The pleasure was overwhelming, paralysing, maddening, with his musky smell haunting your senses and muscular arms wrapping around your waist, just to keep you in place. His hips bucked up, head of the cock hitting the back of your throat, pushing tears into your eyes.

You couldn't see his face, and maybe it was for the best, as he never looked more miserable.

Truly, completly pathetic.

With a creased forehead and mouth covered fully by your drenched cunt. Hips moving in desperate need, and hair sticking to his damp forehead, as he slurped on your cunt like a man starved. With faint growls and cries coming from his throat, and an infuriating need to be crushed by your plump thighs and drenched folds.

"My lady, baby, god, you taste so delicious," he muttered, licking your pussy obscenely, with lips sucking on your clit. "Fuck, I'm never going back to that shithole, never fighting again. Come on, move your hips. Yeah, just like that, ride me like a little slut."

"S-stop, Toji!"

Your head fell back, fingers clenched on his cock as unfamiliar warmth started to coil in your belly. Something you've never felt while bedding your husband, never even thought of, but only heard from the filthy gossip of your servants. They had a much more thrilling sex life than their lady!

"Come on, baby, give me that honour and cum for me. Got fucking stabbed, just to see you again. Don't you think I'm worthy of a reward?"

Soft moans spilt from your lips, hips rolling faster, harder, riding his plastered tongue and drenching his chin. Your hole fluttered around nothing, with a desperate need to finally be filled.

"L-Let me cum on you, please, Toji, let me–"

He hissed, gripping your hands and quickly pulling them away from his cock. Your words snapped something inside him and if you continued to moan straight to his trembling shaft, he would burst any second.

And he didn't want it.

At least not in that way – to let his cum fill anything else but your creamy cunt.

"Wanna cum on my cock? Say it, baby. Wanna get stuffed full? Wanna get bred, hm?"

Your head nodded dumbly, eyes closed, as his finger started circling your clit.

"Mhm– yes yes yes."

He chuckled, seeing how your hole was desperately clenching around nothing. Damp, dripping, with little clit trembling sweetly as he rolled it between his fingers.

"Yes what, my lady?"

Oh, he was playing with you! And in such a mean, mean way.

"I want all of it," you mumbled, cheeks already burning with a fever.

"My lady, this slave is quite dull, and I don't know what you mean. Please say it clearly."

You could feel his chuckle on your pulsing cunt and fingers spreading your sticky folds. Tip of the tongue giving you a faint lick, before you pressed your cunt just to feel more.

"Come on, my lady. You can do it, tell me what you want."

He rolled your clit lazily, with a smirk and pride growing in his chest, seeing how difficult it was to spill these few dirty words.

"The things I'm going to do to you will be filthier, my lady."

Oh, dear gods!

"I want you to fill me with you c-cock," you finally spat, words barely pushing through your throat. "I want you to fill me up here," you placed a palm on your belly pouch, pushing its fat slightly. "I want you to breed me and let me carry your child, f-fuck Toji, please stuff me full of your cock and let me finally shut u–"

Before you finished, he moved.

Quickly, brutally, glueing your back to his torso, lifting up your thighs and pushing into a meannnn mating press. He was massive enough to let you sprawl on his body comfortably and keep you nicely folded against his chest. Lips right next to your ear, teeth grazing its lobe, before you finally, for your own desire, felt his hottish cock at your entrance.

"Your wish is my command, my lady."

And he pushed it in.

Dear heavens, the sweet moan that filled his small room almost made him cum on the spot, with your walls sucking his cock in. Fat shaft thrusted slowly, throbbing and pushing through the drenched muscles of your tight cunt.

"So tight, so fucking tight. Baby, you really need to relax," he growled, cock catching on your pinkish walls and giving you another delicious tear.

He was right behind you, folding you like a cloth, with knees against your breasts and head nuzzling your neck. You couldn't push him away, wriggle back, but only clench his veiny forearms and moan in pleasure when he thrusted even deeper. "T-Toji, I can't– mhmmm –so good, f-feels so goo–"

And he truly, really, honestly wanted to go slow, seeing how much his cock already filled you up, with a slight bulge appearing under your velvety tummy, but– oh dear, what a lie.

He didn't want to go slow, didn't want to roll his hips gently, didn't want to seem like a misery of a warrior.

And he truly wanted to breed this pussy.

"I'm sorry, my lady," he murmured, locking you in a tighter embrace. "I'm sorry, but I can't do it anymore."

Your head lulled back, a drop of spit trickling down your chin, when your weeping eyes met his. "W-what? What are you sa–"

And you didn't finish, because he thrusted.

Hard, raw, deep, stretching your hole to the fullest, with his head kissing your cervix and heading straight to your swollen belly. Shaft dragging madly through your walls, honeyed saps letting it slip smoothly, meanly, grazing the deepest corners of your cunt.

He kept you tight in place, with fingers pinching your clit and tongue leaving a wet strip on your neck. "Sorry, fuck, my lady is sucking me in, she's fucking starving."

He mumbled to her, rolling your clit viciously and hissing lowly when you clenched around his shaft.

"So sweet, my lady's so lovely, clamping so nicely like a good little slut, hm?" he chuckled, feeling another squeeze of your walls and fingers scratching his forearms. "Are you that drunk, my lady? Are you that desperate to get yourself fucked on the gladiator's cock? You know it's against the law, right? Me head would roll if anyone would saw you taking my cock in such a whorish manner."

"I-I'm not a w-whore," you tried to mumble, but another cry left your lips when his cock moved even further. Raw, brutal, with hottish shaft dragging through your walls, head now pushing against your womb as Toji's hand landed on your lower belly.

A little bulge formed under his fingers as he pushed it, making your whole body tremble and toes curl in a blinding pleasure that washed through your senses.

"Aren't you, my lady? Because she's sucking me in like the most desperate whore," his voice suddenly faltered when you squeezed tight. Tighter than before, with all muscles clamping down, as if trying to milk him dry. "F-Fuck, so now you know how to use her?"

He pounded like a madman, animal, with a strange mix of ruthlessness and gentleness you've never felt before, when his cock dragged through your walls madly, and fingers caressed your clit dearly. He was ferocious and sweet at the same time, whispering the filthy obscenities into your ear, causing a blush to spread from your chest up to your ears, while squeezing your tits gently.

And when you clamped on him again, with a sweet cry pushing through your lips, he groaned, forcing his girth with a squelch. You were fucked by a true beast, with a womb swelling from the brutal pace and cock hitting that one, gummy spot. This strange position he put you in gave him perfect access to your plump clit and sweet button inside you, already fattened from the vicious hit hit hit.

You were close, oh so close, with your moans spilling from every thrust and walls clenching even tighter, locking him almost fully inside.

"Toji, I'm gonna cum– mhmmm I-I'm gonna cum, please please please let me," well, you did sound like a whore, with lips whining his name and eyes crossed in pleasure. A deep chuckle quivered his chest, and fingers pinched your clit.

Hips latched in place, beefy arms moving your whole body and stuffing it on his fat cock. Nose hidden deep in your neck, teeth diving deep into your skin.

"Cum for me, baby. Come on, my sweet lady, cum on my cock like a good whore," he talked you right through it, voice deep and mean, praising the sweetness of your cunt and devouring all moans falling from your lips. "Want to have my baby, hm? Get stuffed and swollen again? Come on, let me make you a mommy. We're gonna run away and move to Egypt. I will build you a fucking mansion if you'll ask me to."

His words spun in your head, slipping in and off, while your cunt was aching, pulsing, milking him from every drop of his cum.

He put his palm on your chin, turning you towards him to glance at your glossy eyes and creased eyebrows. "You'll do it, right? Gonna run away with me? Leave your husband and let me fuck you every night?"

His words sounded outlandish and wild, but a deep pang in your heart forced your head to nod and lock your lips together. In a sweet, longing kiss, full of aching and yearning, while his cock finally swelled up and filled you deep with creamy cum. Your whole body trembled, clit pulsing under his fingers, as you finally came. A wave of pleasure washed over your body – blinding, delicious, making your toes curl, and squirt all over his hands. You could feel how deep his cum drove, sticking straight to your womb and sealing it with dense strings.

Your name rolled from his lips like a mantra, while he put you in the meanest, the most brutal mating press you've ever felt. Your thighs trembled as he groaned in pleasure, circling the swollen pouch of your belly and whispering how he aches to see you with his baby.

And when your breath calmed down, with his cock slowly softening up and your tummy still flowing with his cum, you heard two words that made your heart stop.

"Marry me."

You turned his way, eyes bulging. "What?"

"Marry me. I was serious about Egypt," his thumb grazed your lower lip and emerald eyes skimmed over you with tenderness. "Let's run away tonight. We can start a new life. It won't be as lavish as this one, but–"

Before heed finished, your lips crashed against his. Fingers running through dark, damp locks, eyes shut, when you kissed him sweetly, dearly, filling with affection that coiled in your belly since the moment you saw him in that arena.

"Please," you whispered, touching your foreheads together. "I can have any life as long as you're in it."

He chuckled with this hint of loveliness and fingers tucking in the single strand of your hair.

And when your bodies untangled before the sunrise, you left. To the land of hope and freedom, with nothing but a few coins in your pockets, a bit of your jewellery and the yearning of his emerald eyes, you would love tenderly till your last breath.

a/n: I didn't include the gossip of the town arc both Eppia and Sergius had before they left for Egypt, but it was getting toooo long.

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