Page 28 of From Best To Bested

He was, and Roman knew that. Victor wasn’t particularly strong, but he was good at evading blows and holding out until his opponents tired out. Roman thought of all the ways Victor could best Ezra in the upcoming match. He ran on the treadmill and fantasized about Ezra’s inevitable downfall, the joy he’d take seeing him knocked down from the pillar of strength he’d shoved Roman off of. A smile crept onto his face as he ran faster and faster, wondering who would come for Ezra on that day. Who would ruin him the same way he ruined Roman. Then, a realization struck him, and he nearly tumbled over.

If Ezra lost, if Ezra was bested, Roman lost his protection. He’d bound his lot in life to Ezra, surrendered himself to the man, and used the clout and respect he had as the new reigning champion to shield himself.

“You okay?” Ezra had stopped running, too, legs straddled on the edge of the fast-moving machine and eyes locked onto Roman’s shaky stance as he did the same.

“Yeah, just thinking of ways you can exploit Victor during your next match-up.”

Ezra smirked. “Look at you, looking out for me.”

Roman shrugged and resumed his workout.

“We’ll be best friends soon. Just you wait.” With that, Ezra continued his workout, and Roman recoiled in his skin.

Friends didn’t do what Ezra did. Friends didn’t force someone into a compromised position. Friends didn’t exploit vulnerabilities and manipulate consent. Friends didn’t take satisfaction in the pain of their friend.

Roman knew all this. He hated Ezra with a passion. He was disgusted by how his sole responsibility in life had become pleasuring Ezra. Satisfying his cock. Willing himself to swallow Ezra’s dick. Bearing through gritted teeth as Ezra railed him and filled Roman’s insides.

All the same, every gentle touch clouded Roman’s thoughts. Every kind word confused Roman. Every gesture, smile, and act meant to loll Roman into a false sense of security worked to slowly chip away at his willpower.

He knew nothing Ezra did was out of friendship, the statement a blatant and cutting lie. Still, terrible thoughts about what friendship really was crept into his mind. Friends protected each other, which Ezra did. Friends helped each other, which Ezra did. Friends took an interest in each other, and Ezra craved conversation with Roman.

Roman focused on his fitness and moved from cardio to weights. Ezra hadn’t been lying about training his glutes. Roman worked on his arms a bit, but mainly just a few reps to keep the muscle tone there. Eventually, a routine like this would make Roman more lean, probably thinner than Ezra. While Ezra focused on adding muscle. Roman wondered if Ezra were that methodical, if he’d really considered their exercise routine for the day purely as a precursor to trading their physical stature.

All in all, while Roman worked on his squats, Ezra came up behind him and steadied his form.

“A few weeks of this and that beautiful bubble butt will look even better.” Ezra winked. “If that’s even possible.”

Roman’s stomach twisted. He didn’t mind being ogled. He didn’t even mind when other men would check him out at the gym. He used to find it flattering when gay dudes wanted a piece of him. But now that he’d given up that piece of himself, been used and worn out to the satisfaction of Ezra’s needs, Roman couldn’t help but recoil a bit. He hated being a cheap fuck toy for Ezra. He hated committing so diligently to a workout routine that’d only make Ezra happier. He hated knowing Ezra would rake his hands over his body again today and use him until he climaxed and then use him again and again and again. Most of all, Roman hated that he allowed this, that he committed to this proposition because he was too weak and frightened to walk away. Roman hated himself more than anything else.

They moved from the private gym to a small, spacious sparring room that was mostly bare except for the training mat. Ezra directed them right into training. They sparred for a while, and Roman studied Ezra’s technique. He seemed so insurmountable after besting Roman twice in the arena, but during this training, nothing about Ezra’s style appeared grand. Yes, he had a good form. Yes, he knew how to use his weight and the weight of opponents in his favor. Yes, he was quick and good at improvising. But none of that seemed outside the realm of Roman’s own abilities. They seemed like equals more than anything, yet Roman found himself beneath.

“You mind doing me a favor?” Ezra asked.

“Aside from going easy on your sloppy right swipes.” Roman froze, eyes wide and face frantic.

He hadn’t meant to call Ezra out, hadn’t meant to poke fun at his technique. It seemed like something friends did, but Roman and Ezra weren’t friends, no matter how much Ezra continued to demand they were now that he had Roman.

“See, this is why you’re gonna be so much help, buddy.” Ezra grinned, unfazed by the jab. “I was hoping you could kind of slowdown your defense. I wanna test out some moves, but you’re probably not the right opponent for them. Like you can do basic maneuvers and such, but don’t focus so much on your guard.”

“You just want me to take it?” Roman asked, an edge of irritation threatening to escape.

“Come on,” Ezra said with a happy lilt. “We both know you’re good and just lying there and taking it.”

Roman fumed, prepared to protest, and considered punching Ezra squarely in the throat, but he paused. No, he didn’t pause. He hesitated. He froze. He slumped a bit, realizing how quickly and how far he’d fallen that he’d allow someone to speak to him in such a way.

“I’m just teasing. It’s what friends do.” Ezra poked Roman in the stomach, tickling Roman to provoke a response, but Roman simply glared. “I’ve had a lot of match-ups since you were in solitary. Most of the guys are good, but none are as quick with their guard as you are.”

Roman almost smiled at that. Almost.

“I just wanna test a few moves.” Ezra insisted, a gentle pleading in his voice.

Roman expected it to be a demand, a command, but even though Ezra spoke with absolute authority, he also always offered Roman a choice. It felt like a trap every single damn time.

“Fuck it,” Roman thought. “How much worse can things get?”

And with that, Roman agreed to slow down and allowed Ezra to try out some of his new moves. Three body slams in, Roman regretted the choice he’d made. Not all that different from any other choice he’d made in life. Ezra took full advantage of Roman’s blanket permission and total submission on the sparring mat and pummeled his partner with a flurry of swift strikes.

Pain radiated like a web spread across Roman’s muscles. He would have bruises everywhere by morning.

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