Page 36 of From Best To Bested

“Don’t worry about my sentence,” Ezra insisted. “I won’t be leaving here anytime soon.”

“It’s just—”

“I know.” Ezra kissed Roman’s forehead. “I don’t want to talk about your sentence, your past mistakes. I wanna bask in what we have right now.”

Roman’s brows knitted in confusion. It wasn’t uncommon for someone’s sentence to slip out and end up idle gossip, but Roman rarely discussed what he’d done, and fewer here knew about his crime or the guilt he carried for it. He’d called it a mistake, an accident, but manslaughter charges didn’t disappear no matter how genuine the apology.

Nor should they, but Roman wondered if he’d paid enough for that mistake by now. He wondered if the soul of his dead friend found some peace in Roman’s new life position. He wondered if the family who’d abandoned him here cared how he’d fought to become a champion in a corrupt system, then gone from best to bested. Roman didn’t wonder if anyone cared about his predicament or how he’d been forced to learn how to serve the needs of another person above his own. Mostly, he assumed others would take some satisfaction in his plight.

“You’re mine,” Ezra said. No, declared. It was a statement that would rattle the earth if words could. He gripped Roman by the sleeve and pulled him to his feet. “You’re my friend. I will always keep you safe.”

“And I will always keep you happy,” Roman answered, instinctual and desperate to see the sly smile on Ezra’s face return. A smile that meant he was happy. A smile that meant Roman was safe for another night.

“That’s why I love my pretty pink princess.” Ezra leaned in and kissed Roman.

He’d kissed Roman a lot. In the beginning, he mostly kissed Roman’s body. His neck in public, his forehead after a really good blowjob, his left ass cheek after a particularly aggressive fuck. Always the left cheek since Ezra favored his left side, given he was lefthanded. Roman found most of his bruising from slaps and smacks of sex on his left side. Even from sparring, Ezra had a lazy technique of always leaning left. In the beginning, when Ezra kissed Roman on the lips, he’d recoil or flinch or shoot Ezra a disgusted look, only occasionally playing the role properly.

Now, though, Roman returned the kiss without hesitation and saw Ezra’s eyes light up with delight. They’d gone to kissing regularly. It was a different feeling, Ezra’s muscular body, firm grip, and commanding demeanor. Roman went with it, leaned into the role, and found himself lost in Ezra’s mouth more days than not. He wanted to keep kissing, always kissing. He’d do everything else, but sometimes they’d kiss like this until the sun came up, nothing more, nothing less, simply Ezra’s lips, his touch, his tender affection. Most of the time, it served to ready them both, rubbing against each other, each feeling the hard erections, the heat of their bodies, the quiver of anticipated desire.

“I’m thrilled you’ve finally accepted my friendship, truly accepted it,” Ezra said with a whisper.

Roman could see the pleasure it brought him, and while he hated surrendering himself, breaking off the more resilient pieces of himself, he couldn’t imagine making it through his days by resisting every step of the way.

He’d done that the first month. It hollowed him out. It exhausted him. It broke him without him realizing it. After nearly four months of this, he’d learned to love Ezra.

“You know, this has kind of got me all riled up again,” Ezra said, poking at Roman’s sides until he giggled.

Roman forced the laughter, but he knew it made Ezra happy when he let out light and sheepish laughs, so he entertained him.

“I want you to eat my ass,” Ezra said.

“What?” Roman swallowed hard, unsure how to feel, how to react.

This entire arrangement worked because he learned to obediently tend to Ezra. But that usually involved massaging his muscles, stroking his cock, sucking his cock, opening up, and letting his cock inside his hole. It never involved Roman pleasuring Ezra’s hole.

“Some of the guys have been saying it’s a nice feeling.” Ezra shrugged. “It’s got me curious, and I thought maybe you’d be willing to help me explore that curiosity.”

“Okay.” Roman nodded.

“Don’t worry, my ass is clean.” Ezra smirked. “Like you, I keep it nice and tidy. Well, not exactly like you.”

He laughed, humored by the lengths Roman would go to ensure his hole was ready and able to handle Ezra’s cock. Sometimes, that involved douching beforehand. Especially if Ezra planned for a new kink that evening, something to test out, something that would stress Roman’s hole and insides.

Roman only had an accident once, and he panicked so much that he thought Ezra would murder him right then and there. All Ezra did was pull out, clean off his dick, and say, “shit happens,” before insisting Roman clean himself and the bed up before they finish the evening with a blowjob. Ezra’s only scolding came in the form of a warning to never let it happen again. Inform him so he could offer Roman more appropriate breaks. He wanted to own Roman’s hole, not abuse it. From that point on, Roman either watched what he ate, focused onmore food during the rest days when his hole recovered, or went to properly clean himself out for his friend.

Friend. Roman really started to believe that after three months of only Ezra’s companionship. It was difficult serving someone every day and not resenting them, but the more Roman accepted his role in their friendship, the easier he found things. Ezra would talk a little nicer on those days. One time, he even stroked Roman hard. He didn’t let him cum. Roman still only achieved climax with Ezra inside him, with Ezra pumping hard behind him, with no hands and a reminder Roman’s cum required Ezra’s pleasure. He didn’t mind, though. Seeing Ezra reach climax was enough for him because it meant Roman had earned another day of safety.

Ezra didn’t just speak in Roman’s defense when someone would make a particularly cutting comment; he’d also step in to defend Roman’s honor in and out of the arena. Roman had accepted his place and carved out the smallest amount of happiness he could with the hand dealt to him.

“Get on the bed,” Ezra instructed. “I’ll straddle you.”

“Okay.” Roman obeyed, taking his place on the bed. He moved the pillow out of habit because Ezra didn’t like it when Roman would cry or moan or yell into the pillow, demanding Roman make himself heard. But Roman had stopped trying to muffle the noises he made when Ezra fucked him after the intensity of the first month.

“Leave it,” Ezra demanded.

“Okay,” Roman said with a quizzical expression. “Wouldn’t it be easier if I was behind you?”

“Oh, like me face down and ass up for you?” Ezra stripped off his clothes and straddled Roman’s chest, putting the full, crushing weight of his body on top of Roman. “That would put you in charge, in control.”

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