Pankration - match 3: Lysander vs Ali (written by Harry)

This is the fourth part of Harry's epic series Pankration that is set in Ancient Greece. I hope you enjoy this story as much as I did!

Previous parts:
Pankration
Match 1: Tallus vs. Amun 
Match 2: Nico vs. Pollux

Warning: Can contain traces of cum. 

Theo could feel something different in the air on the third day of Pankration. It seemed that nearly every young man from the neighborhood had found his way to the seldom-used athletics courtyard dubbed the Princes Palace. Among the rag tag group, Theo recognized not just the Lost Princes, but also a handful of teenage sons of Theban nobles and merchants. Even a few servant boys from the main palace had managed to evade their work for a while. They observed quietly from a shady corner of the colonnade. Theo winked at them conspiratorially, which made them look around nervously.

The story of Nico’s humbling defeat had obviously gotten around. Of course the cheerful blonde prince would not show it—even now his laurel-wrapped blonde curls shook as he horsed around with the Gaul Tallus and the Persian Ali—but Theo was sure that Nico’s forced, public submission still stung.

“Hey, Theo…”

“…”

“C’mon, Theo, when are you gonna pick? Soon?”

Theo conked his head against the heavy urn he was lounging against and pretended to be asleep. It didn’t work. The raspy, slightly petulant voice continued anyway.

“I’m sooooo ready, Theo. Did you know in Sparta we start training for combat when we are three? So I’ve been training for…” Lysander trailed off, doing the math on his fingers.

Lysander - artwork created by Dizzy

The brunette stood and stretched languidly, doing his best to ignore Lysander. It was a hot day, even by Greek standards, and he relished the feeling of the sun on his tanned, olive-colored skin.

“Hey, Theo…”

“…”

“Hey, Theo,” Lysander dropped his voice as if to propose a deal. “I bet you could pick any name that you want right?”

As the unofficial referee of Pankration, the clever Athenian was responsible for drawing the day’s competitors. A large urn in the Princes Palace was packed with stones, on which were scratched the names of those aspiring fighters who wished to prove their toughness. Theo finally looked at Lysander with gravitas, as if he was scandalized by the proposal, and the young Spartan bit his lip, hoping he wouldn’t get in trouble.  

By now, several of the other Lost Princes had noticed Theo standing up by the urn. A small crowd formed, with both potential competitors and spectators eager to find out who would be paired up next. Theo decided it was as good a time as any to start the show. He drew the first stone and rolled his eyes. Some god somewhere was surely laughing at his expense.

“Ok, Lysander,” he announced half-grudgingly, “It’s your turn.”

The eager Spartan was already shadow boxing front and center, where he had been for each drawing of Pankration. Lysander crowed in delight at being selected and pumped his fist in the air. He gave Theo a conspiratorial wink that lacked any manner of subtlety.

The black haired boy was one of the youngest of the Princes. His immaturity was reflected in his brash attitude as much as in his lean frame. But he trained ceaselessly for combat, and his sinewy muscles and disciplined technique would make him a fierce competitor. Above smooth, deeply tanned cheeks, his serious gray eyes sparkled brightly as he scanned the crowd for a potential competitor. The twins Castor and Pollux looked bored and pointedly ignored him when Lysander puffed up his chest and attempted to stare them down, but some of the more timid boys looked away nervously.

Theo pulled a second stone. “Ali!” he shouted. This time there was no answer. Theo looked around, scanning the edges of the crowd where the quiet Persian teen preferred to wander. “Ali?” he called again.

Ali - artwork created by Dizzy

“Present,” came a soft voice from right behind him. Theo jumped in surprise and fumbled the stones onto his own foot, much to the amusement of the assembled spectators. Ali gave a cheeky grin and bowed silently to the crowd, doffing his colorful turban. He had an uncanny ability to appear out of nowhere. Most of the Princes found this trick to be entertaining, as long as it was played on somebody else. 

“Oh man!” Lysander’s raspy voice was petulant and disappointed. “Theo, can’t I fight a real warrior? Like Pollux? Or…” He glanced around, his wide eyes falling awkwardly on Nico before glancing away again. “or...or Castor?” Nico flushed and his square jaw clenched. The brawny blonde prince was unaccustomed to being dissed, regardless of whether he had lost his match the day before.

Theo looked Ali up and down. The Persian was scrawny—certainly not a warrior. Behind the shaggy black hair that fell down over his face, Ali blushed in embarrassment at being dismissed so casually, yet he did not  appear to be intimidated by his brazen opponent. Theo caught a hard look in his deep, violet-blue eyes. The observant Athenian was good at reading people, but Ali was still a mystery to him.

“My dad says that for a Spartan, victory is only honorable if your opponent is strong, so…”

Theo decided to interject before the precocious Spartan had time to inadvertently insult anybody else.

“Lysander! There are hardly any rules for the Pankration. Let’s at least follow the one that we have. You have to fight whomever is drawn from the urn.”

Lysander hung his head as if he had been scolded. “Man, I wish I wasn’t the only Spartan here,” he mumbled.

Theo turned to confirm with Ali but found nobody there. He seemed to have vanished as quickly as he arrived. Theo shook his head in bewilderment. “You have ten minutes to prepare,” he said, casting his voice in no direction in particular.

**************

Despite his initial disappointment with the draw, it did not take Lysander long to get ready. Habitually prepared for training, he stripped off his toga and jogged to the middle of the courtyard to do calisthenics while he waited for Ali to turn up. He went barefoot and wore his customary exercise attire: a well-worn white cloth that twisted around his waist and made a pouch for his genitals. In the back the fundoshi settled comfortably between the perky mounds of his buttocks, leaving no lines in his deep tan. Lysander’s abs were impressive for a teenager and his obliques tapered in a V toward his crotch. His wiry arms and legs were striated with muscles that promised the strength of manhood. It would not be long before Lysander was stud indeed.

Theo settled down in a shady spot next to where Nico was already reclining. The handsome blonde prince’s abs and ribs showed evidence of yesterday’s brutal fight. Nico tried to appear nonchalant, but Theo noticed him wince a couple times when he shifted his weight.

“Any scouting report for this one?” Theo asked. “Are you going to tell me that Ali is secretly a jiu-jitsu master, or can I put a wager on the Spartan kid?”

Nico chuckled and scratched his curly head. “No idea. Have you hung out with Ali much? He’s not timid, just sort of scrawny. Now that I think of it, he’s probably the only Prince I’ve never wrestled. But Lysander is tough, and he sure seems excited to compete. If he doesn’t wear himself out first with all those pushups…”

Their conversation tailed off as they noticed that Ali had reappeared from out of nowhere and was standing right behind Lysander. “Man, that is freaky…” Nico said in a low voice.

The chatter in the courtyard stuttered to a halt as the audience noticed that both competitors were present. When Lysander turned around to find Ali mere inches away him, he reared back in alarm. But he quickly controlled himself and puffed his chest to appear intimidating.

Ali wore his usual baggy, ballooning pants and a sleeveless purple vest over his shallow, bare chest. A small, brightly colored turban perched atop his unruly black hair, but his bangs still managed to fall over his eyes.

Lysander looked over his short, sinewy opponent. “Man, are you sure you want to fight?” he inquired. It was hard to tell whether he was annoyed or genuinely concerned for Ali. “Maybe your blue-painted friend would take your place,” he continued, pointing out Tallus and brightening at the prospect. “He looks strong like me.” Lysander looked down over his abs and flexed a bit, admiring his own physique.

Ali lifted his chin and for the first time peered directly at Lysander through his dark bangs. For a long minute neither spoke as the Spartan stared into the Persian teen’s mysterious blue-violet eyes.

“You’re right, we don’t need to fight,” Ali’s voice was soft enough that only Lysander could hear. “Just submit to me. You want to submit to me, don’t you?” Ali’s voice chimed musically and his eyes were captivating. “You want to submit…”

Lysander returned his gaze without blinking. His mouth fell slightly open. Finally he jerked his head away forcefully, like an untamed colt, and took a couple steps backward. The disciplined Spartan shook his head as if to refocus and crouched into a grappling stance.

“Whatever,” he said, scowling. “Let’s fight!”

“Just think about what you want,” Ali teased, skipping back lightly into a defensive posture.

Lysander sprung quickly on the offensive, swiftly grabbing Ali’s lower leg and lift him up for a takedown. Two more times in succession he darted in to grasp the slimmer teen and hoist him up for a slam. Ali grunted as he was dumped into the sand, wrenching his shoulder before he could scamper away to escape.

Lysander was putting on a clinic of Greek-style wrestling. When he grabbed Ali around the waist and tossed him acrobatically over his shoulder, the other Greeks in the audience nodded in appreciation of his technique and skill. The non-Greek spectators may have missed the finer points, but it was obvious to all who was the more skilled wrestler.

Ali may have hoped to use his quickness and agility to outmaneuver the Spartan, but that plan was clearly not working. Even though he was able to tumble gracefully, Ali was feeling the impact of Lysander’s tackles and tosses a bit more painfully with each impact. After one particularly ferocious suplex, he rolled head over heels and lay on the sand, struggling to regain his breath. Unrelenting, Lysander was on top of him in an instant. The Spartan’s bony knees dug into Ali’s modest biceps, pinning him effortlessly. Looking around the courtyard, Lysander grinned and flexed a bit, enjoying what was unquestionably the most one-sided match in the Pankration so far. 

From his vantage point on his back, Ali looked up at Lysander’s gleaming muscles, his boyish smile, and his pride. His opponent’s pride strengthened Ali’s resolve, and when Lysander turned back toward him, Ali caught his gaze. He looked searchingly into those cocky, innocent gray eyes.

You want to submit to me, don’t you?

“No way!” Lysander scoffed, although he wasn’t sure if Ali had spoken out loud or if it was just his imagination. His head felt funny. Lost in Ali’s cool, blue-violet eyes, Lysander’s firm expression turned to wonder, then to fear, then finally to submissiveness. For a few moments both fighters were still as stone. As his head began to swim, the Spartan aimed a knockout punch at Ali’s trapped face. But his fist cracked harmlessly into the sandy ground as his opponent shimmied out from beneath him with remarkable agility. Lysander clutched his smarting hand and shook his head to get his bearings. Why was he feeling so dizzy all of a sudden?

When Lysander rose to his feet, Ali was behind him. The Persian threw jabs that were quick and sharp, and he never stayed close for long. Somehow Ali always ended up behind Lysander, just out of sight or out of range. His fists and kicks bit into Lysander’s ribs, abs, hamstrings, and back. The black-haired warrior hunched defensively and counter-attacked savagely, but Ali seemed to be dancing on air, and always out of reach.

Nico and some of the other warriors among the Princes were puzzled by what they were seeing. Ali was speedy, but he was not exactly breaking new ground in hand to hand combat. They could not understand why Lysander was suddenly so slow and wobbly on his feet? Surely little Ali’s blows were not that heavy?

Ali paused, panting. He too, realized that his blows were not having significant effect on his opponent’s trained and hardened body. He clicked his tongue, remorseful in advance for what he was going to do. You should have submitted while you had the chance.

When Lysander swiveled his head to locate him, Ali darted in from his left and aimed his fist low and true. His knuckles bit into the bulge of the Spartan’s fundoshi, smushing his junk against his own muscular leg. Lysander groaned, but he was tough and disciplined enough to remain standing.

“Hey!” he protested angrily, “That’s not fair figh…”

Dancing lightly on his feet, Ali swooped in from the opposite side, striking a second low blow. This time the contents of Lysander’s cloth pouch were visibly rearranged by his knuckles. The crowd of boys watching grimaced in sympathy as Lysander’s package was pummeled. This second blow took Lysander’s attention out of the fight and into his throbbing ball sac.

“My nuuuuts…” he rasped, bending over to cradle his young spuds against further damage. 

Out of nowhere, Ali appeared again over Lysander’s shoulder. The way the Spartan was bent at the waist, his tight, muscled ass pressed into Ali’s crotch. Ali placed one hand on each of the boy’s hips and gyrated suggestively. Laughter rang around the courtyard, with the Persian’s friend Tallus guffawing louder than the rest. Having just taken consecutive punches to his nads, Lysander did not register that he was the object of the joke. He hunched over, awash in pain.

Next Ali adjusted his grip and grabbed the twisted cords of the fundoshi that circled his opponent’s slim hips. Yanking upward with all his strength, he felt the fabric dig deep into Lysander’s crotch and crack. The teen howled as he was lifted up by his own garment. The sandy cotton burned the most sensitive parts of his body in a vicious wedgie. Lysander’s eyes popped open in shock and he tried to clutch his front and rear simultaneously. Capitalizing on his leverage, Ali heaved again, forcing Lysander up onto his toes, until with a great ripping sound his fundoshi mercifully shredded. Poor Lysander collapsed to his knees, clasping his abused privates from the front and behind. He kicked his feet in the soft sand and felt very sorry for himself indeed. 

Ali was riding a surge of adrenaline. The unassuming Persian was not accustomed to combat—much less to manhandling a larger jock. He reminded himself that the Spartan boy was tough, and he did not repeat Lysander’s mistake of underestimating his opponent. He put a foot on the back of each of Lysander’s knees, pinning them to the ground. Then he grabbed him by the hair and bent him backwards, wrenching his neck and torso upright while he remained kneeling. Lysander’s coarse black hair was just long enough for Ali to get a good grip. The awkward position bent Lysander back enough to keep him immobilized. 

With his free hand Ali reached down between the boy’s legs and cupped his genitals from behind. Ali rolled the fat, round balls against each other as if weighing them and evaluating their worth. Like all males, Lysander’s nuts were precious to him beyond compare, and he froze in fear.

“Don’t…don’t touch me…t-t-there,” he whined, trying to sound assertive and failing utterly.

Ali ignored him and tested his trapped opponent’s equipment by probing first one testicle and then the other, pinching and squashing them while Lysander moaned in agony. Ali was amazed how the boy’s gonads were at once soft and pliable and also firm and resilient. They felt full and surprisingly hot. In fact every part of Lysander seemed to radiate heat. His muscles strained and trembled, but Ali gradually extinguished his resistance with each twist of his small hand.

You want to submit to me, right? Ali asked.

Theo could see Ali whisper something into Lysander’s ear from behind, and the Spartan immediately scrunched his face and shook his head. He couldn’t hear the exchange over the noise of the crowd, but it was easy to guess the subject. “I’m guessing that means Lysander doesn’t want to give up,” Theo observed.

Nico studied the match with an expert eye. “Well Ali can’t really control a strong grappler from that position for long. I couldn’t really blame Lysander if he gives. I mean, who even knows what Ali is doing to his nuts right now. But I think the kid can do better,” Nico concluded optimistically. He absentmindedly cupped his own junk as he watched Lysander’s nads get worked over. “See, if Lysander just shifts a little…"

“Uh oh,” Theo interrupted, clicking his tongue, “It looks like Lysander might not have a choice.” Indeed, the claw hold that Ali had on Lysander’s cream-filled sac not only had a psychological effect on the brave warrior, but also a physical one. His cock was slowly getting plumper and rising. After a couple minutes of having his nuts worked over, Lysander’s penis was bobbing slowly in front of his taut torso, keeping rhythm with his opponent’s unrelenting grip.

Even worse than the pain for the proud Spartan was that he was forced to look into the faces of the boys watching from the gallery. The handsome twins Castor and Pollux looked bored by the pathetic show. Nico was frowning sympathetically, but his bright hazel eyes were beaming encouragement. Several of the spectator’s eyes lingered on his jutting cock; the essence of his maleness was at the mercy of his rival. Lysander took this all in and moaned as his nuts were further violated by Ali’s nimble fingers. He reached down again to pry away the invasive hand, but with his back bent he could not quite reach.  

In desperation Lysander threw his elbow back at his opponent, driving it into Ali’s slim torso. The shaggy-haired Persian yelped but maintained his hold. Another elbow followed and knocked Ali slightly off balance. Lysander felt his grip falter and pushed himself part way to his feet. This was his chance!

What Ali did next surprised everyone. Instead of bearing down on Lysander’s fragile testicles, Ali released them and grabbed the boy by the chin. He pulled Lysander’s head so that their faces were within inches of each other. Ali’s mysterious blue-violet eyes locked on to the other boy’s innocent gray ones. The Spartan warrior gritted his teeth and staggered to his feet, but he appeared woozy. His movements slowed, and he shook his head as if he had something in his eyes. He threw a sloppy punch that missed Ali by a foot. Each time he struggled, Ali grabbed Lysander’s chin and re-directed him to his calm gaze. His head drooped on his shoulders as if he were drunk.

“Come on, Sander!” Nico yelled, hoping to inspire a stronger showing from the would-be warrior. “What’s wrong with him?” he asked Theo in a lower voice. “For all his big talk, I can’t believe that he can’t even connect a punch.” Nico shook his curly blonde head in disbelief. Theo did not respond. He was just as nonplussed as his friend, but something did not add up. All that Ali had done was look at Lysander. There had to be something more going on than was evident from where they were sitting.

Submit to me…

Lysander was still throwing punches, but he was listing on unsteady legs. Ali appeared behind him and looked around the audience while tipping his small square hat. He clearly felt that the match was drawing to its end. Lysander spun around with a roundhouse punch, but Ali ducked and threw an uppercut that caught the Spartan squarely in his junk. The blow was so hard that Lysander’s soft cock ricocheted up against his abdomen, and the splat of fist on flesh made some of the watching Princes a little nauseous.

Regardless of how scrawny the puncher is, an uppercut to a naked ball sac is devastatingly effective. Lysander’s eyes crossed. Never in his life had he felt such intense pain. His mouth dropped open and he fell to his knees in the sand.

“Uuuhhh…nnuuuhh…”

Ali grabbed him by the chin and looked once more into his pain-ridden gray eyes. Then Ali clamped his hand over the teen’s nose and mouth, gagging his airflow. Lysander twitched a couple times and slumped forward against his opponent as he slowly lost consciousness. Ali held him in a kneeling position but walked around behind him and sat down in the sand. Carefully, almost tenderly, he pulled Lysander backward so that the Spartan’s muscular back lay against Ali’s chest.

The whole gallery was hushed now, as if in courtesy to the knocked-out warrior. Lysander’s arms hung limp at his sides and his bare feet sprawled open in front of him. His shoulders and neck rested in Ali’s lap, so the proud boy appeared to gaze down over his own strong chest and chiseled abs. His breathing was deep and steady. Of course by now Ali and all the assembled fighters knew that the only way to end the match was for Lysander to verbally submit or to submit his seed. One of those avenues now seemed impossible. What about the other?

With his victory now assured, Ali took his time to give the audience a show. He began by massaging the Spartan’s firm pecs, brushing his thumb over Lysander’s brown nipples until the beads hardened. Ali sucked on his thumb and forefinger and pinched one perky nipple, then he appeared astonished to find that a coin had appeared between his fingers. The crowd began to laugh uproariously as Ali’s sleight of hand produced several more coins. Ali paused and acted like he was pondering what further treasure he could plunder from the ko’ed Spartan teen.

His nimble fingers roamed over Lysander’s sweat-slicked abs, rubbing his stomach in slow circles from his chest to his pubes. Glancing down farther, Ali started in surprise when he found that his defenseless opponent’s cock had hardened once more, jutting up toward his belly and twitching slightly with each beat of his heart. Apparently Lysander enjoyed the massage even in his sleep. The audience was eating out of Ali’s hands and knowing grins broke out among them as they realized what treasure Ali was really looking for.

“Uhh, Theo, are you drooling?” Nico asked with a sly grin. The brunette guiltily ducked his head looking flustered before realizing that Nico was messing with him. He elbowed the prince in his sore ribs, making him yelp. “Shut up,” Theo responded, hurriedly rearranging his toga so that it was not tented by his boner. “Everybody else is watching too,” he said a bit too defensively.

“Yep. If you’re lucky they’ll forget how much money you bet on Lysander,” Nico teased. Theo was too engrossed in the action to care. 

Indeed, all the Lost Princes were being treated to an eyeful of Lysander. The black-haired teen’s erect cock was smooth and straight and fit his frame perfectly. Together with his toned muscles and deeply tanned olive skin, his excited sex made him the very picture of young Greek manhood. He was beautiful even in defeat.

Having teased the crowd enough, Ali wrapped his fingers around Lysander’s organ. It was hard and hot and surprisingly slick. Ali smirked and drew the conclusion that either conscious or unconscious, Lysander did not have much stamina. Slowly he pulled back the skin that covered Lysander’s brownish knob and began to pump his cock with a firm grip. With his other hand, Ali kneaded the sac of fat testicles that he had previously softened up with his fists. He noted a couple dark bruises forming on them and clicked his tongue apologetically.

“Over/under ten seconds?” Nico asked in monotone. He looked at his companion for confirmation.

Theo appeared a bit flushed. “No, at least thirty,” the Athenian guessed in a hoarse voice. He was mesmerized watching Lysander’s balls bounce heavily as he was jerked off against his will. Both Theo and Nico felt a little awkward about watching their precocious young friend get owned in such a humiliating way, but not awkward enough to not make a bet on the side. Anyway, Lysander knew the stakes when he entered the Pankration, so he couldn’t blame them for watching, right?

As it turned out, Nico won the bet. After just a few teasing pumps, Lysander’s cock began to spurt his hot cum. Ali kept up the show and pulled back in feigned shock. His hands were suddenly full of coins, which he fumbled everywhere; all the while Lysander’s excited tool continued to twitch hands-free against his abs until his balls were utterly drained. The Spartan had officially lost the match by submitting his seed, and he had done so prodigiously. His spunk now covered his chest in globs and ran in rivulets through his six pack. 

Ali stood up and brushed the sand from his baggy pants. The contrast between his composed, showman-like appearance and Lysander’s naked debauchery was remarkable. With a snap of the Persian’s fingers, Lysander jolted awake. Lysander propped himself up on his elbows and peered around, shaking off the cobwebs of his knockout. Looking down he was reminded that he had lost his clothing at some point during the fight. His memory was vague after that. However, the cooling semen that was splattered over his chest and pooled in his navel left no doubt about what had come next. Or who had.

The young warrior raised his eyes from his sticky, defeated manhood to look around around the colonnade. His gray eyes were wet, but he fought back the shame as his opponent was applauded. His young nuts throbbed wickedly and his legs felt like lead; he briefly wondered whether he could be paralyzed from the waist down. This was not the match Lysander had been hoping for, and for once he was grateful that there were no other Spartans around.

“Think he’ll bug me about fighting tomorrow?” Theo asked sarcastically.

“Doesn’t matter,” Nico replied matter-of-factly. “You’re going to pick me.” His bright white smile was beaming.

Theo rolled his eyes. “Ugh. I told you that’s not how it works,” he countered, rolling to his feet.  “Anyway, I guess I’ll go peel Lysander off the floor…”

But Ali had already reappeared behind Lysander. He hoisted the heavier boy to his feet and helped him limp back to the bench where he had shed his toga. Through his haze of pain, Lysander looked sidelong at his victor, wondering what he would see in those remarkable blue-violet eyes. But now Ali’s eyes were hidden behind his tousled black bangs. And by time Lysander sat down on the bench and turned toward him to ask a question, the other young man had already disappeared as if into thin air.