Seduced by the Gladiator(30)

After training, I stayed on the sands, jesting with Darius. I made certain to appear unconcerned about events that had transpired in the ludus recently. As I stood with my tall friend, however, I noted that Bavarius still watched me with mocking on his face. I pretended that he did not exist.

I also noted that Christus hovered on the edge of the sand, his eyes never straying from my frame. I knew that he was waiting for me, was waiting for me to come to him.

Though I very much wanted to do just that, and though I had not been able to keep him from my thoughts all day, I stubbornly stayed behind. I did not wish to tell him of the day’s events, for he would worry.

I did not know why I cared so much about what the man said or did. I had allowed him access to my body once, and would not do so again. He meant nothing to me beyond that.

When I could delay it no further, I crossed the sand to the outer door of the chambers that I now shared with Christus. I knew that I would face an angry man inside.

Before I could think our actions through, Christus wrapped his arms around my waist and half carried, half dragged me across the room to the bed. When we reached the wall beside it, he pressed me up against it, and the chill of the stone against my back was a delicious contrast to the heat that pressed against my front.

My exclamation of surprise was muffled against his mouth, which devoured mine, hot and fast. After a second in which I pushed against him, startled, I returned the kiss as fervently as I received it.

In that moment, I didn’t know why I had ever felt unsure. I did not know why I protested so much to myself. This—Christus’ skin against mine—felt so right. I knew that I always felt the need to prove a point, but as soon as he touched me again, I could not think at all, not when his hips bucked against mine, causing his cock to rise and to thicken against the soft swell of my belly.

His tongue swept inside of my mouth, and at the same time he worked his hands between my back and the cool stone of the wall. Tracing fingers gently up my spine, he found the knot that held the band of leather up and worked it free.

I shivered when my breasts were kissed by the air, the leather pulled down around my waist.

Christus hissed in a breath at the sight. Small, they were pale and tipped with red, and he palmed one with something close to reverence.

My mouth watered. I wanted him to taste them.

Sliding his other hand from my back, around my hip, and up my abdomen, he cupped a breast in his right hand. He cursed when he discovered that he wasn’t touching skin—his hand had become caught in the thin cloth that had lined the leather, which had banded at my waist.

But when the covered hand brushed over the rigid tip of my nipple, I emitted a low moan from the back of my throat. Burying his face against the slender arch of my neck, he rubbed that nipple between his fingers, the touch buffered by the smoothness of the cloth.

I pressed my hips into his and wrapped my legs around his waist. Swallowing thickly, I wished to free the fastenings of his subligaculum, but did not wish to separate my hips from his for the time in which it would take to disrobe him.

I forgot all about my wish when he dipped his head and closed his mouth over both cloth and flesh.

I whimpered and bucked against him. He ground back, growling low in his throat, the sound swallowed by the soft pants of our breath.

The loud blast of a horn from out in the training yard stopped us both where we were. It was the signal our dominus used to gather all of his gladiators in the yard, below the balcony.

“Hurry up.” The voice of the dominus emanated through the thin wood of the door.

Christus and I blinked at each other, stunned. Before he could say or do anything, I pushed him away, sliding down the wall until my toes touched the floor.

What was I doing? Yes, the man offered me some protection, but to give your heart to another gladiator was foolishness. Either of us could be killed at any moment.

I fully intended that it would not be me. A romance between us—even just an affair—could not ever end well. There were too many politics involved in the running of a ludus, too many forces to be navigated to worry about more than oneself.

I could feel that my cheeks were nearly the same color of the fruit that I had craved the night before as I yanked the band of cloth and leather back up my torso, covering the breasts that Christus had just had his mouth on. My hands reached behind me to tie the knot, but my fingers were trembling in my haste, and I fumbled.

“Let me.” Christus’ own cheeks redder than they’d ever been, he reached out and deftly tied the knot. At the touch of his fingers on my smooth skin, I started and jerked away.

“Christus. I cannot. We cannot. This is madness.” From the yard, the horn sounded again, and seeing an opening, I fled for the door.