Cage Match, page 2
“I told you. My friend paid for it. I didn"t expect…” Andreas shut his lips tight as he reminded himself he need make no apology to this man. It was part of his job. “If
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you don"t feel like fucking, that"s fine.” He made his voice cool and much calmer than he felt inside.
“Maybe I don"t.” The big arms crossed over his slab of a chest, and the fighter resumed his imitation of a statue.
Andreas swept his gaze the length of the man"s body and noticed his erection beneath the black fabric of his briefs. Despite his nonchalance, Jabez was aroused from their encounter too. The knowledge made him feel better, cockier, and a lot less ashamed. He folded his own arms and stared back.
“I guess it would be a pain to have to have sex with people when you"re not in the mood. Part of your job, though, right? You guys get some kind of commission?” The other man"s lip curled in scorn, as if he couldn"t believe the idiocy of the question. “No, we work off our indenture—unless we die first.” Andreas frowned. “What are you indentured for?”
Jabez"s laughter was a harsh, humorless bark. “Whatever trumped-up reason they can come up with. On this planet it ain"t too hard to lock a man up for just about anything.” He dropped his gaze to Andreas"s pants and changed the subject. “So what do you want? Blowjob? Fuck? Top or bottom?”
Andreas"s cock twitched in response to the suggestions, but his brain had emerged from a lust-induced fog and he was full of questions. “I thought you did the after-fight visits for a little extra cash on the side. I didn"t know it wasn"t your choice.”
“Didn"t say it isn"t my choice.” The man"s eyes seemed to burn through his trousers like blue lasers, scanning every inch of him. “But I don"t do it for cash. It"s more time off my sentence.”
Andreas considered that. “You"ll do anyone who comes in here then—man, woman, it doesn"t matter?”
“That"s right.”
“But what"s your preference? What do you like to do?” Andreas could almost feel the moment when the balance of power shifted. Jabez looked uncomfortable. He didn"t like to be questioned.
He reached for the fly of Andreas"s pants. “You want to fuck or talk the whole time?”
Andreas pushed his hand away. “Talk. Answer the question. What do you like?”
“Whatever the client wants.” His jaw clenched so hard it bulged. Every muscle in his powerful body looked as tense as a cat facing a bathtub full of water.
“How do you feel about fighting? Do you hate it or do you get a charge from it?” He shrugged. “I just do it. Now do you want me to suck you off or what?” Andreas would"ve liked nothing better, but he was more intrigued to hear Jabez"s answers to his questions. He didn"t believe the man had no thoughts or feelings about the things he did. Suddenly, he was determined to know more, and curiosity was more powerful than his sexual urge.
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“Do they ever rent out your services here? Could someone buy your contract?” Jabez finally lifted his eyes from Andreas"s groin to his face. His eyes were wide except for the droop caused by the scar. “What?”
“Say I wanted to hire you as a personal trainer or a bodyguard. Would that be possible?”
A scowl twisted his brows, and his eyes narrowed once more. “Only way out of here is in a body bag.”
“Or when your indenture is up.”
“It"s never up.” His mutter was so soft, Andreas strained to hear the words.
He wanted to ask, Then why do you do it at all? Why fight or entertain clients if you really believe your sentence will never end? but a flash of hopeless misery across the man"s battered face kept him silent.
Andreas"s chest ached in sympathy for the plight of the fighter. He"d been to cage matches and other combat events his entire life and had never questioned the terms of the gladiators" employment until now. Fights were just another entertainment like vids or races or any sporting event—something to pass the time. Andreas hadn"t been raised to consider the ethics of what the underclass did to make a living. He had his place in life, and his people were all that was important.
“Are we finished here? Or do you want something else?” The fighter moved closer to Andreas, once more boxing him in by the door. “I think you do. I think all this talk is
"cause you"re scared to ask for what you want.”
Andreas"s erection had flagged as questions and guilt distracted him, but it stiffened again at the man"s husky voice and the proximity of his body. He inhaled the powerful odor of his sweat, as sharp and tangy as fresh-cut grass. He wanted to lean in and lick his gleaming chest, tasting salt and oil.
Jabez reached for his fly, and Andreas didn"t bat his hands away this time. The man cupped the bulge in front, his hand heavy and hot, and gave a little squeeze.
Andreas sucked in a breath.
“Yeah. This is what you want.” The other man"s voice was a low, sultry caress and as powerful as his touch. “This is what you need.” Jabez unfastened Andreas"s pants and reached inside to pull out his cock. Andreas couldn"t drag his gaze away from that big hand, the skin on the knuckles broken and bleeding. The dark purple head of his cock emerged from Jabez"s fist, and when the man began to stroke his length up and down, Andreas whimpered. The heat was unbearable and the glide of skin on skin wasn"t nearly enough. He wanted, needed, more, so much more.
As if hearing his silent plea, Jabez dropped to his knees. The sight of the hulking warrior kneeling submissively before him sent another flare of fire burning through him. Jabez leaned in slowly, his mouth open, and Andreas forgot to breathe again as the
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man"s lips closed around the tip of his penis, sucking it into steamy wetness. Andreas groaned and let his eyes drift closed.
But he didn"t want to miss one second of the beautiful man giving him a blowjob, so he opened them again, just a slit, just enough to be able to see the frown of concentration on Jabez"s face and the erotic sight of his lips curved around the head of Andreas"s cock.
Reaching out, he cupped the other man"s head on either side, feeling the soft stubble of his shorn hair against his palms. His hair was brown, and Andreas wondered whether it would be dark or light when it was longer. The shape of Jabez"s skull was sexy, but Andreas could imagine he"d be even hotter with a mop of tawny or walnut brown hair framing his face.
Jabez released his cock and blew across the glistening, wet surface, making Andreas shiver. He stuck out his tongue and licked a line all the way up the shaft, then swirled it around the head. Andreas devoured the erotic image of that pink tongue against his dark, swollen penis.
The fighter removed a hand from Andreas"s hip and reached beneath to cradle his balls. He fondled them softly before giving a firm squeeze that made Andreas gasp.
Jabez resumed sucking and stroking his cock, bringing him quickly to the brink of orgasm. It wasn"t far to go. He"d been hard and horny all evening while he watched the fight, and his lust had ratcheted higher when presented with Timon"s “gift.” Now, to have Jabez on his knees with his hands and mouth wrapped around his organ, Andreas didn"t require much further stimulation in order to come.
He dug his fingers into the other man"s scalp, groaned, and thrust his hips sharp and fast, driving his cock into Jabez"s mouth. The fighter released his cock and brought his hands around to Andreas"s backside. He clutched his buttocks as he let Andreas fuck his mouth as deeply as he wanted to go, so far into his throat that Jabez made a choking noise. The sound only spurred Andreas"s lust higher. He drove deep one last time and froze, head thrown back, body shuddering as bliss rolled through him.
He leaned against the door, breathing hard. By the time he"d recovered and opened his eyes, Jabez was on his feet, standing in the corner of the room again, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. He met Andreas"s gaze with a challenging stare.
“Anything else you want?”
As a matter of fact, there was. Andreas would"ve liked to order him to strip the rest of the way so he could see that long rod uncovered. He"d like to take Jabez"s cock in his hands, his mouth, and suck him off. Or lie down on that big bed and have the man fuck him hard—or up against the wall or down on the floor on all fours. Yes, there were plenty of things he"d like to do in this room tonight. But he wasn"t going to request any of them.
It was clear Jabez despised him and all his clients. Andreas didn"t want sex prompted by a hot surge of hate. He also didn"t want one evening only. He was fascinated by this man and wanted to see him again. Money and the power that went 10
with his family name would ensure he got what he wanted—more time and a deeper understanding of the fighter"s mind. So, despite his aching desire to fondle the other man"s cock, he shook his head.
“No. There"s nothing. Thank you for your time.” Before the other man could say anything, Andreas raised his voice and shouted, “Finished.”
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Chapter Two
When the door closed behind the pretty young man, Jabez exhaled a loud breath.
He was exhausted. His body ached in every muscle, yet he was as pumped as if just heading into a fight. He could still taste the guy"s jizz on his tongue, and his cock was rock-hard and aching for relief. He"d been positive his visitor was going to ask for more, that he"d watch Jabez jack off or offer to suck him off, maybe even let him fuck that sweet ass. It was clear the rich boy was hot for him, but he"d cut things off so abruptly he"d left Jabez with his head spinning.
What was his game? Did he plan to come back sometime? Jabez was angry to realize he wanted to see the young man again.
Cursing, he collapsed on the bed, pulled down his briefs, and let his cock spring free. He grabbed the shaft in his fist and pumped it with hard, violent tugs meant to get him off fast. He pretended it was the rich guy"s hand and that the man was gazing at him with his silver eyes while he jerked him off. Fuck knew what color they really were.
The uptown crowd changed their hair, eye color, and skin tone more often than ghetto dwellers like Jabez changed clothes.
In his fantasy, the man begged to go down on him and Jabez let him. Soon those soft lips were wrapped around his rigid cock and the wet heat of his tongue swirled fire around it. Even on his knees, the man was looking up, fixing him with that silver gaze, so exotic, so erotic. Jabez imagined he was sending some kind of silent message, and wished he understood it.
He grunted and thrust into his fist, which was hard and rough, not soft, wet, and warm, as the man"s mouth would be. The fantasy fell apart. Jabez finished himself off with a couple of angry tugs, came on his stomach, and wiped up the sticky residue with the bedcovers. The brief surge of pleasure was over in seconds, and he was back in hell, waiting for more pointless minutes of his life to tick past.
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He pulled up his briefs and lay waiting for the guard to open the door. He"d probably escorted the client upstairs and would return any minute to take Jabez back to his cell. While he waited, he reviewed the evening"s fight, what he"d done right, what he could"ve done better. It had been close, with his opponent taking the advantage and pounding him nearly senseless. Against those extra pounds, his superior speed was all that had saved him.
The door opened, and the guard beckoned him. “Short session.” Jabez grunted and rose to his feet.
The guard cuffed him and led him back toward his quarters. “Guy was asking about buying your services. Sounds like someone has a crush on you.” It wouldn"t be the first time. Sometimes clients developed a taste for a particular fighter and came back for him again and again, but the appointments weren"t cheap and eventually they"d lose interest. Still, Jabez"s stomach contracted at the idea of seeing the young man again. Stupid to think about it. He dismissed the tightening in his gut as hunger pangs. He never ate before a fight, and by the time the match was over, he was always ravenous.
Back in his room, a meal waited. One thing the owners weren"t cheap about was food. The fighters ate massive quantities of it. As he wolfed down several platefuls, Jabez thought about his visitor with all his questions.
“What’s your preference? What do you like to do?” No one had ever asked him that. He hardly asked it of himself, since there was no point. He"d do what he had to, as he had all his life. His existence had always been pretty much a matter of surviving from moment to moment. And right now all he could concentrate on was making it through this three-year contract alive.
But as he lay down to sleep, he tried to imagine what he"d like to do, how he"d choose to live if he had the freedom. All he could come up with was being outdoors.
Not in an uptown city park, but the real outdoors, with trees and bushes and wild animals like in the nature vids he"d watched.
He fell asleep and dreamed of walking in the woods, breathing in the green scent of trees. When he pushed through some branches and entered a clearing, a big jungle cat sat there staring at him with shining silver eyes. He didn"t know whether to run or face the beast.
Then he woke up. Another day in captivity began.
He ate, worked out, practiced with his sparring partner, and when evening came, he entered the cage again.
The moments before the door opened to let him into the arena were the worst. His body was like one raw nerve, exposed and vibrating with tension. The roar of the crowd sang along with the rush of blood in his ears. He didn"t have a clue who he"d be facing. There was no time to plan a course of action until he strode out onto the sand and saw his opponent.
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Jabez was relieved to see fresh blood tonight rather than a battle-scarred veteran.
His opponent was of a comparable height and build, but one look into the man"s eyes revealed he was terrified. He was new and wouldn"t have the skills to match Jabez"s experience.
Both men wore light armor—a helmet, breastplate, shield, and wrist and shin guards—and were armed with short swords. Metal to metal, Jabez had no doubt he could mow down his competition.
Instead of pacing the ring and assessing his adversary, he chose to take advantage of the man"s fear and rush him before he had time to adjust. With a bellow, he charged and stabbed, but the dark-skinned man twisted aside and brought his blade up, slicing at Jabez as he ran past.
Jabez"s headlong charge carried him into the metal grille. A sharp pain in his side let him know he"d been cut. He"d underestimated his opponent. Pushing off the cage, he dodged to the side, raised his blade, and parried a series of blows. His assailant was a surprisingly competent swordsman, but Jabez was better. Once he regained his balance, he pressed that advantage, driving the man toward the bars to box him in and allow no room to maneuver.
But his enemy seemed to understand the strategy and kept dancing aside, keeping away from the wall of the circular cage while parrying with his quick blade. Jabez thrust beneath his guard and hit his breastplate. He couldn"t get in close enough to deliver the blow he wanted to.
Grunts, harsh breathing, the smell of sweat and blood, the clang of metal, and the constant roar of the crowd—these details edged Jabez"s consciousness as he concentrated on wearing out the other man. Sweat ran into his eyes, and he was moving slower. He lunged, and his foot slipped on the sand. He went down on one knee. His blade lowered long enough for the other man to pierce his defense and leave another cut, this time on his biceps above the wrist guard. Jabez flinched away. Before he"d recovered, the blade stabbed toward him again.
Jabez raised his shield, deflecting the blow. The impact dragged his arm down, and his opponent took advantage, kicking Jabez in the chest and knocking him onto his back in the sand. His adversary kicked again, and the toe of his boot connected hard with Jabez"s temple. Pain exploded through his head, blurring his vision, and Jabez knew he was only seconds away from feeling that blade pierce his gut.
He resorted to the street-fighting tactics that had helped him survive long before he learned to use a sword. Grabbing a handful of sand, Jabez threw it into the other man"s face, then swung his blade, knocking his sword out of his hand.
While the man choked and blinked, Jabez scrambled to his knees and thrust upward with all his might, driving the point of his blade deep into his opponent"s abdomen. He felt the skin shear away beneath the knife and the resistance of muscle beneath. Blood sprayed over Jabez in a fountain as he drove the sword in to the hilt.
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He met the man"s gaze, saw his eyes widen in shock, then glaze over and go dark.
He staggered backward, clutching at his stomach before toppling onto the ground.
Panting, Jabez blinked away the blackness that shrouded his vision. The pain in his head broke over him in waves. The roar of the crowd swelled louder and louder and combined with the rush of blood in his ears. His gut churned, and the world whirled around him as he lost consciousness and fell, face forward, onto the blood-soaked sand.
* * * * *
He woke with the scent of flowers in his nose. He must be dead, because no place he"d ever lived had smelled so sweet.
Jabez listened before opening his eyes, taking stock of the noises around him. Air blew softly—fresh air from an open window bringing birdsong into the room. There were the quiet creaks of an unfamiliar house, the music of trickling water, and a low, metallic gonging he couldn"t place.
He peered through his eyelashes at the room around him, a bedroom painted white like clouds. Where the fuck was he? The rustle of something moving made him close his eyes again, feigning sleep.
“You"re awake. How do you feel?”
No use pretending. He opened his eyes and blinked against the sunlight"s soft glow through sheer white curtains. The young man with silver eyes sat beside the bed on which Jabez lay. He"d been so still, Jabez hadn"t heard him breathing.
