Cage Match (3 page)

“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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9

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

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Bonnie Dee

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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Bonnie Dee

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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13

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