Page 35 of From Best To Bested

In the afternoons, either after the adrenaline of their workouts or the excitement Ezra got when defending Roman’s honor from taunting, it always resulted in a blowjob. Roman would drop to his knees in the bathroom stall or lay flat on the sparring room mat and let Ezra fuck his throat until he cried and slobbered all over the man’s ten-inch cock. There was no point in staying strong or being brave. Ezra had complete control over his life now, control Roman offered, and giving in to what made Ezra happy usually made him cum faster.

Sometimes, he’d shoot his load down Roman’s throat; sometimes, he’d make him walk around with the trace signs of cum on his face or in his hair. It really depended on Ezra’s mood. Roman got used to it, and eventually, Ezra got bored with parading Roman’s shame. That made Roman happy, made him finally think Ezra didn’t only do this to make him miserable, and added to the haze of Roman’s eventual acceptance.

The evenings were always the same, too. Ezra would want to cum again, which on days designated to allow Roman’s ass rest, it meant he’d have an incredibly sore throat and jaw instead. When the night involved anal, however, Ezra was a beast in the sheets, demanding satisfaction as he tossed Roman about, using him like a cheap toy.

Either Ezra was bored from a lackluster day and sought entertainment in the form of fucking, or he was high off another victory in the arena and craved Roman’s ass as a prize. Roman enjoyed the arena nights. He’d be left alone in the cell for hours, things would be quiet, and for a few breaths, he’d forget where he was or how far he’d fallen.

In any sense, the night came with pleasing Ezra yet again. An unyielding task. Roman had never known someone to be so horny all the time. Ezra was insatiable, and something aboutdropping his load into Roman made him so satisfied. His eyes never strayed, and his fascination with Roman’s quivering body never tired. Often times, he’d get hard just watching Roman squirm after they’d finished, and Roman would find himself taking a fourth load for the night. He hated it when that happened. He hated it for the first month, anyway. By the second month, he expected the chance of a fourth load. By the third month, he’d help encourage it, sometimes to Ezra’s protest.

“Look at you,” Ezra would tease when refusing Roman his cock. “You’re such a hungry cum slut, aren’t you?”

Roman would blush at that, partially because it degraded him; it was humiliating. But the other part would blush because he knew it made Ezra happy, seeing Roman slightly frazzled and embarrassed and desperate to please him. It made Ezra happy, and when Ezra was happy, Roman was safe.

Late nights were when Ezra tested new kinks out. Morning blowjobs or fucks were always quick and brutal, meant to get Ezra off in five minutes or less. Afternoon blowjobs weren’t much longer, but depending on how much pleasure he took in watching Roman choke on the girth of his cock they could last upwards of twenty minutes. Night was when their sex lasted the longest. Because Ezra wanted to make it last, wanted to fuck for hours, or try something new, he often spent time readying Roman’s hole.

It’d been awkward the first few times, laying on his back with his legs spread and looking over at Ezra while he fingered him, but eventually, Roman learned to relax, allowing himself to indulge in the gentle prodding. Sometimes, Ezra would take extra time, lubing Roman, readying Roman, massaging Roman’s hole, all so he could ensure it left Roman rock hard before the late-night intercourse. On a few occasions, he even made Roman cum, unapologetic as Roman convulsed from the climax. His hands would claw at the bed, desperate to grip his cockand stroke out the last few pearls. Instead, he remembered his place and would buck against Ezra, primal and pleading for more release. Ezra would merely smirk, waiting for Roman to finish and accept his orgasm required Ezra’s touch. Once Roman had settled, Ezra would ready Roman all over again before piledriving him.

Ezra always had fun taking his time late at night, making his thrusts slow, and even so, he could pound into Roman for an hour or sometimes two, three if Roman’s whimpering riled Ezra. They’d even take breaks, Roman resting with Ezra’s hard cock buried inside him. Ezra never wanted the nights to be restful, so whether he used Roman’s mouth or ass late at night, Roman expected it to be an exhausting and unending event.

Roman used to try and distance his mind from the sex, to think of something different, but that never truly worked. If he wanted to escape Ezra’s gaze, wash away the sound of his voice, sometimes Roman would envision Levi. It was strange and not something he’d ever considered before, but somehow, it brought a bit of solace. He also found himself more willing to submit to Ezra’s insatiable needs, which ultimately made Ezra happier, and Roman became content with the arrangement.

More than three months of this had nearly broken down all of Roman’s walls. He’d accepted his fate and knew this was his life. Well, for the next five years, at least. That was the earliest opportunity he had at parole. What really worried him, what stressed him every time he submitted to Ezra, was how long Ezra would be here.

“Can I ask you a question?” Roman asked as he wiped spit from his mouth and licked Ezra’s flaccid cock clean.

Ezra enjoyed the tongue bath, and Roman had gotten so used to the routine, he always went to lick off the slobber he’d left behind when bringing Ezra off.

“You just did, pretty pink princess.” Ezra played with Roman’s hair. His hands were gentle and affectionate, but his eyes were haunting and hollow. “But yeah, you can ask me anything. We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah,” Roman answered between licks. “I just wondered how long your sentence is.”

Ezra stared at him, silently studying Roman, and likely very aware of Roman’s thoughts based on how squeamish he appeared. Roman worried he wore his fear on his face.

“Hoping I’ll be gone soon?” Ezra snatched Roman’s hair and forced his gaze up, craning Roman’s neck in an uncomfortable position. “That’s not very friendly.”

“No,” Roman protested. “The opposite.”

“Oh?” Ezra asked. No, demanded. He wanted Roman to elaborate, and his scowl demanded Roman explain himself.

“Everyone knows you’re my best friend in here,” Roman said, practically ready to take in Ezra’s cock again for a late-night apology blowjob, anything to show his respect. “I just worry what will happen to me when you’re gone. If you leave before me.”

After three months of Ezra fucking him every which way and flaunting their friendship, their relationship, for all to see, Roman believed the minute he stepped outside the cell alone, if he ever dared something so foolish, he’d be snatched up by someone like Jake the Snake, and they wouldn’t ask if Roman would submit. They’d make him. He knew as much as he hated Ezra’s phony affection and playful touches and gentle kisses, they were far more bearable than anything someone else would do. He’d seen the hollowed-out men Jake the Snake assaulted, the vacant expression in men who were railed well beyond their breaking point and forced to serve Jake and his entire crew.

Even if this wasn’t his choice, not really, he did have a say in things. Ultimately, Roman was free to walk away from Ezraat any time—he’d said as much. During the first month, when Roman still had the occasional fire in his eyes, Ezra would remind him of that. But Ezra took care of Roman and ensured he never injured him, which was more than Roman ever expected. He didn’t want to be raped by men that saw Roman as a fallen champion, an easy target.

Roman didn’t want to be passed around. Roman didn’t want to be broken. Roman couldn’t see how broken he already was, though. He’d been torn down by every choice Ezra carved away. Bit by bit, Ezra had shredded and sliced away pieces of Roman so small and so subtle that he hadn’t realized how much of himself he already lost. He actually began to believe this situation wasn’t bad. He had protection. He had love. He had friendship.

In the fall from champion, Roman forgot all the things he aimed for, strived for, believed in, and now only sought to make Ezra happy, to keep him satisfied, and to enjoy the peace it afforded him.

Ezra released Roman’s hair and let his head drop some, but when Roman kept his gaze on Ezra, it made the man smile. He was always so happy to see Roman’s humble obedience, and more than anything, Roman wanted to ensure Ezra wouldn’t go to bed angry.

“I would never let anything happen to my pretty pink princess.” Ezra caressed his face. “Besides, why do you think we train every day?”

Roman shrugged. “So you’re ready for the arena.”

“And so you’re capable if anyone is stupid enough to touch what belongs to me.” He cradled Roman’s face between his hands. “You’re so powerful. I know I had to take away some of that pride, that fiery willpower, but it was only to strengthen our friendship.”

Roman tensed, unsure how to react, how to behave. He only wanted to please Ezra, and normally, he understood the reaction his best friend sought. But right now, he struggled to recall what it meant to be confident and proud.

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