Page 42 of From Best To Bested

Roman buried the thoughts, the curiosity, but he couldn’t hide the heat on his face as he eyed Levi.

“So, you ready to spar?” Ezra asked, eyeing Levi, then looking at Roman, who tried to hide his reddened face by turning his shirt into a fan.

He hoped he could feign exhaustion from the cardio earlier.

“I’d love to go a few rounds,” Levi replied but smiled at Roman, all his attention fixated on the man he claimed he wanted to help.

Roman didn’t need his help. Maybe this little sparring lesson would give Levi an insight into his foolishness.

It didn’t take long for Ezra and Levi to size each other up with feints and light jabs. Soon, they’d moved into more aggressive styles. Surprisingly, Levi moved with a lot more grace than Roman expected. Given his size and lack of experience, Roman predicted Ezra would run laps around Levi. But Levi didn’t falter, didn’t leave himself exposed for long, and managed to keep distance between them while he struggled to catch his breath.

That was the real problem here. Levi might’ve been more of a natural than Roman gave him credit for, but Levi still lacked the stamina for a real fighter. The fodder battles in the arena meant nothing when faced with someone with real experience.

“What’s the matter?” Levi taunted, shocking Roman and Ezra when he managed to slip behind him and lock Ezra in a chokehold. “Figured you’d love this move.”

Roman stopped breathing. He couldn’t believe what Levi was doing; he couldn’t believe Levi had locked Ezra up with thismove. He couldn’t believe he’d missed it by blinking away for a moment, a silly little moment where he hoped they’d wrap up things soon.

And they would, but Roman figured—no, knew—Ezra would grow bored and end things. He would win. He always won.

“Levi, stop.” Roman stepped forward, bitter fright in his voice, chilled at what would happen to them both if Levi asserted some pointless dominance in a sparring match.

Levi smirked, an expression suggesting he had so much more planned, but that joy dropped away when his feet hovered off the ground. Ezra had done what Roman lacked the strength for during their first fight. Ezra lifted Levi’s feet off the ground a second time, wrapping a hand under Levi’s arm and giving himself a bit of breathing room as he worked to flip Levi off him and wriggle out of the chokehold.

It only took a few tries, and then Ezra flipped Levi over his head and slammed the man hard onto the mat. Ezra panted, gathering his stolen breaths, then reeled back a fist as he dropped to the ground and prepared to smash in Levi’s face.

Ezra stopped short of striking Levi; his knuckles grazed against the man’s cheek. Levi hadn’t flinched, fully prepared to take a bone-breaking punch. It surprised Roman, surprised him to see how much Levi had grown and continued to change since their divide.

“I think that’s the match.” Ezra smiled, offering his hand to help Levi up. “I wouldn’t wanna break that pretty face of yours. It wasn’t all that long ago I wanted to fuck that pretty little face.”

Roman’s body warmed, angry at the idea, reminded of the pressure Ezra had put on Levi and the way he used him to get Roman.

“But now I get to fuck the prettiest face in here.” Ezra winked at Roman, who blushed, then turned his gaze back to Levi. “Guess I never properly thanked you for that, did I?”

Levi glared, an icy stare strong enough to kill. Roman knew Levi blamed himself. Knew Levi desperately wanted to avoid this fate and had inadvertently set Roman on the path to handing himself to Ezra. But Roman didn’t blame Levi. He never could.

“How about you show him some real moves, Princess?” Ezra poorly broke the tension with Levi by playfully calling Roman over.

Not that it helped lessen the mood, though Roman suspected this wasn’t about that. This was meant to show Levi what Ezra really could do. Roman went along, bracing himself for brutal punches that Ezra used to knock out the fury in Levi’s eyes. Now, he watched with concern, the same concern he expressed to Roman in the cafeteria, the same worry, the same desire to help. That pissed Roman off, and he played his role a bit too well, fighting back and knocking Ezra away.

Roman knew he lashed out too hard, too fast, too aggressively, but that shouting warning paled in comparison to the part of him that wanted to put Levi in check. He pelted Ezra, then slipped around and jabbed him in the ribs. Roman only saw red. Roman only saw the chance to prove to Levi he was still strong.

The cathartic freedom that came from landing successful chained strikes washed away months of shame. Roman was still in there, truly himself buried underneath all the submission he offered, beneath the guilt of failure he harbored, beneath the broken boy meant only to please Ezra’s needs.

Fuck!

Roman stopped, slowed himself, and took in what he’d done, how he’d fought back. This was not what Roman was supposed to do when they trained. Roman was made to serve, nothing more.

The fury in Ezra’s eyes had turned his expression sour. No anger there. It was so much worse. Roman could see the disgust, felt it radiating in the air between them, and it made him shiver.

If Roman surrendered outright, Ezra would take offense. The audacity that Roman thought Ezra needed him to submit would lead to trouble for Roman, so he let his next moves hit slower and miss closely but still present themselves as actual efforts. Ezra moved in more brutally, pummeling Roman over and over until his body throbbed from the fresh bruises that would take hold soon enough. After a convincing loss, Roman gestured pleadingly for submission.

Once Roman disengaged, it didn’t take Ezra long to knock him back, change the flow of the fight, and flip Roman over his head and onto the mat like a ragdoll. Ezra pinned Roman on his back and took full advantage of Roman’s surrender, not easing up simply because his opponent had faltered. Roman braced himself for any beating, understanding these trainings were a privilege, an opportunity to help Ezra, not a place for Roman to vent his rage or show off.

“That was so good.” Ezra smiled, much to Roman’s surprise, and kissed him on the lips. A quick, fleeting peck that fueled a longing in Roman. And an idea. “Who knew there was so much fight in you?”

“I’m just full of surprises,” Roman answered Ezra, but his eyes drifted to Levi.

Ezra nuzzled Roman’s neck, tempting him, hungry for him. Roman felt it in the buck of his hips, the aggressive squeeze of his arms, the gentle lick of his tongue coupled with the rough bite of his teeth.

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