Page 16 of Embrace of Dragons

Lancelot cocked his head again, and Arthur was given the impression that he was not calculating how best to attack somuch as debating whether he should draw out the punishment or end Arthur’s misery in the most efficient manner.

The cocky little shit.

Well, fuck that.

Arthur curled a corner of his mouth in a grim smile and opened his body for the next attack rather than double his defenses.

He could see that the move confused his opponent, though Lancelot’s eyes seemed rivetted not on his body but on his mouth. The man blinked slowly and shook his head, as if he was distracted and didn’t know why.

Arthur used the momentary confusion to launch his own offensive, catching Lancelot off guard, plowing into his middle head on and throwing them both to the ground.

He even got a couple of punches in, sitting astride the much leaner man, directly to his pretty face.

Though—fucking hell!—the man’s face was hard as stone. The fine skin split around his eye and cheek at the bludgeoning by Arthur’s war hammer fists, but it was like striking flesh and bones against unyielding rock. Arthur’s knuckles suffered just as much damage.

He resisted the urge to pull his hands back and shake the vibrating numbness out of them. He could feel the shock of the hits travel through his hands, down his wrists, and into his arms and shoulders.

Forget rock. It was like striking steel. There was no give at all.

Abruptly, Lancelot managed to shake himself out of the momentary stupor and attempted to throw Arthur off with a heave of his lower body.

But Arthur was an expert wrestler. He pinned Lancelot with his greater bulk and weight, grinding down with his hips, tangling their legs to keep his opponent trapped.

Lancelot tried to roll them, tried to jab punches at Arthur’s face and throat. But because he was smaller and trapped on his back, Arthur having the literal upper hand, the moves were less effective than he intended.

Moreover, Arthur had an extremely high pain tolerance. He felt it—oh, did he ever feel it. But he could ignore it without losing his concentration. He could push through it.

He did so now as Lancelot twisted and bucked. Their groins, hips and thighs rubbed together inadvertently, and a completely different and inappropriate set of images flashed through Arthur’s mind unbidden—

Of sweat-sheened, muscular, naked bodies twisting and undulating together.

Of hard, clenching buttocks and tight, convulsing holes.

Of rigid cocks pounding in and out of those hot, gripping holes, flooding them with cum.

So tightly locked were these bodies that there was no telling where one began and the other ended.

Arthur was instantly hard. The blood rushed to his groin so fast, he felt light-headed.

And that was when Lancelot rammed his head into Arthur’s nose, instantly breaking it and making it gush an obscene amount of blood.

Bollocks!

While Arthur reeled from the hit, and pain blacked out his vision, followed by the sting of involuntary tears, Lancelot made short work of flipping him to his stomach, twisting his arms behind his back and locking him in a chokehold with one steely arm around Arthur’s throat.

“Yield,” the calm, smooth voice rasped low in his ear, Lancelot’s warm breath making him shiver.

Arthur was still dazed by his sudden defeat, as well as the multitude of PAIN his body suffered. So, he didn’t respondfast enough, apparently, for a long, stone-hard brand dug insistently into his trouser-covered arse as if it could plow right through the fabric and into his virgin hole.

His body froze entirely at the unexpected contact. It was a completely foreign, yet… not unpleasant sensation.

“Yield, warrior,” the surprisingly heavy male on top of him repeated.

This time, when Lancelot’scockground into his ass-crack, Arthur didn’t know if it was meant to be a threat or an invitation. Because—

He actually liked it.

A public arena was probably not the place to explore his baser urges though, he reluctantly decided. So, he slapped his palm upon the dirt ground in the signal of acquiescence.

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