Pankration - match 7: Secret friends (written by Harry)

This is a new 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
Match 3: Lysander vs. Ali
Match 4: Theaetetus vs. Amun
Match 5: Karma
Match 6: The barbarian vs. the seven plebes

Warning: Can contain traces of cum.

“Today is going to be awesome.”

Lysander watched nebulous shadow of his window gradually resolve into a firm square as the sky outside brightened ever so slightly. He lay on the floor with his hands behind his head. The sunrise was still a long way off, but its arrival heralded a new day full of new experiences. “Yeah, totally awesome.”

Lysander rolled smoothly to his feet and tidied up his thin sleeping pad. He tucked the pad in the corner and put on his simple cotton fundoshi. The fabric was coarsely woven but soft from long use, and the wrapped cord nestled between the teen’s pert buttocks comfortably. The traditional garment wasn’t very fashionable outside of his hometown of Sparta, but he enjoyed the feeling of it inside his crack and hugging his balls—it reminded him that he was a man now.

Lysander bit his lip when he went to tie the fundoshi in front. His morning wood jutted out from behind the soft cotton, thwarting his attempts to tie the belt. He glared darkly at his unruly manhood. He had things to do, and it was no time for goofing around. He pulled the cords, and the fabric cinched roughly around his engorged cock.

“Eeeekkkk…” he whined in a raspy voice. He clapped one hand over his mouth to keep quiet while the other hand fumbled to fit his cock and balls inside the cotton pocket. Once all the hardware glitches were sorted out, Lysander quietly closed the door of his small, sparsely furnished room and skipped down the stairs to the courtyard of the Princes’ Palace.

By now the rising sun had painted the horizon with electric pink and purple. The hills in the distance were still muted and dark, but Lysander knew that soon they would be traced with farms and orchards and the occasional stark white temple. All those things were there already, like secrets waiting to be revealed.

Once inside the courtyard, the young Spartan pushed his bare toes deep into the sand. At this time of day the sand was cool and forgiving—so different from the hot, spiky afternoon sand. As his toes swished through it, Lysander wished that his best friends Theo and Nico were there to enjoy it with him. But the older teens would probably be asleep for a few more hours, considering how much wine they had drunk last night. Lysander wrinkled his nose in distaste. He had only drunk wine once before, and the way it made his head swim was nothing that he wanted to repeat.

With the other Lost Princes drunk and sleepy, it was not unusual for Lysander to be the first to meet the day. Well, almost first. In the middle of the courtyard, the Egyptian prince Amun sat as still as a stone. Once or twice Lysander had tried to wake up extra early and surprise the reserved, shy priest, but every time Amun had already been seated in mediation by time he arrived. Amun would remain perfectly still from the deep dark until the courtyard was flooded with sun. Lysander admired him for it, even though he wasn’t sure why Amun did it.

Once Lysander had made the mistake of trying to talk to Amun during his meditation. In the calmest, most tranquil voice he had ever heard, the priest had promised to tear off Lysander’s privates if he was ever disturbed again. Lysander cupped his warm junk protectively and tiptoed by Amun hastily. But for the most part by now they were used to each other.

But on this particular day, another young man was also in the courtyard at this earliest of hours. In the pre-dawn light the figure looked very familiar. He was practicing wrestling. Impressive muscles coiled under his golden, freckled shoulders before he shot forward, simulating a snap takedown. Then he swung back up, shaking his golden curls out of his face and whirling around to counter another imagined strike. Sweat ran in gentle rivulets down the youth’s smooth torso and over his cut abs before soaking into the toga that was bunched around his waist. He must have been at it for a while now.

Lysander watched the shadowy figure practice for minute or two. The Spartan’s calm gray eyes were remarkably observant. Of course he noticed the physical similarities between the unknown youth and his idol, Nico. But even from a distance, he knew this was not Nico. Something about his movement. The two just didn’t have the same posture or purpose. Lysander shrugged and stepped forward to introduce himself.

“Hey…ahh, buddy,” Lysander called. The blonde teen was drilling sprawls and came up short. His bright hazel eyes landed on Lysander, and for a moment the Spartan thought that the new guy was disappointed to see him. Had he been expecting someone else?

But the young man quickly sprung up from the ground and stepped forward to shake hands. His hand was strong and warm and rough—exactly the kind of grip that Lysander could respect.

“Sorry man, I wasn’t expecting to see anybody up and around so early. I’m not hogging your training spot, am I?” The blonde stranger smiled cheerfully and leaned with his hands on his knees, breathing deeply from his recent exercise. Up close, his resemblance to Nico was even more striking. The freckles that decorated his cheekbones seemed to ring his eyes when he smiled.  

Lysander giggled. He wasn’t used to anybody apologizing to him. “Umm, nope! There’s lots of room for both of us! Hey, are you related to Prince Nico? How come I haven’t seen you here before?”

At the mention of Nico, the stranger’s smile faltered. His broad shoulders slumped ever so slightly. But he gathered himself and smiled anyway. “I’m Alexander. And yea, I’m also Nico’s brother. But that’s not all I am.” The handsome blonde paused, suddenly unsure of himself. “Hey, can I ask you a favor?”

Lysander’s grey eyes were wide. “Sure!” he agreed with a raspy voice. If Alexander was Nico’s brother, then he was also a prince of the palace. He didn’t need to ask a favor of anybody.

“Would you mind not mentioning to Nico that I was here? He’s really…protective of me. He’s only older than me by a year, but he doesn’t want me to practice wrestling. He doesn’t want me to get hurt.” Alexander shuffled his feet in embarrassment at telling this to a stranger.

Lysander looked over the teen prince. Alexander was not quite as muscular as Nico, but he was fully mature and appeared quite capable of handling himself. It wouldn’t be long before his strapping shoulders and bulging biceps were equal to those of his studly brother.  But the idea of keeping a secret from the prince who he admired so much made Lysander feel funny. He looked uncomfortably into Alexander’s pleading, hazel eyes.

“I get it,” Alexander said softly. “You’re friends. I don’t want to lie to him either.” The boys were both quiet for a moment. “But…what if you and me were friends, too? Secret friends.”

Lysander tried to look cool and indifferent, but he grinned despite himself. A secret friend! The Spartan teen didn’t really have many friends in this foreign city. Being a secret friend of a secret prince who was about his same age—what could be cooler than that? He bumped fists with the young Theban prince.

“Friends.” Alexander’s deep voice was warm and satisfied. “But I’ve gotta get out of here soon before Nico sees me. Want to practice together later? I really want to learn about the Pankration.” His hazel eyes were bright and shone with determination.

Lysander chuckled confidently. “Well, I’m your guy. I know all about the Pankration. Spartans are the strongest warriors, after all. When should we meet up to practice?”

Alexander looked around cautiously. His eye feel on Amun, who was perfectly still in meditation. He leaned in and whispered in Lysander’s ear. The Spartan teen happily agreed to the rendezvous, then Alexander hastily departed the Princes’ Palace.

“Wow, I can’t wait to tell Theo that I have a secret friend!” Lysander whispered to himself. Then he considered. “Shit. Probably Alexander wants to be a secret from Theo, too.” He looked around the empty courtyard. He’d never really had a cool secret before. Not being able to tell anybody kind of sucked. “Well, that’s okay. Tonight is going to be awesome!”

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

When the Lost Princes fought, they fought fiercely. And when they drank wine, they drank just as fiercely. Lysander didn’t even bother tiptoeing out to his evening training with Alexander. Between Theo acting out a bawdy story and Nico armwrestling with Tallus, nobody was going to miss the young Spartan anyway.

When he arrived at the meeting spot by the creek near the stables, Alexander was already there practicing. The blonde prince pushed the sweaty curls out of his eyes and smiled daringly at Lysander. “Think you can take me?”

Lysander chuckled and pretended he couldn’t hear well. “Did you ask can I take it easy on you?” he repeated teasingly. “I’ll try to, but sometimes us Spartans forget our own strength.” He pumped his round biceps proudly and dropped into a wrestling stance.

The Spartan teen was barefoot as always and wore just his customary fundoshi. The cotton cloth covered his bulging crotch but left his legs and ass cheeks bare; he loved the freedom that it gave him to train or exercise without restriction. Alexander had stripped down similarly and tucked his toga into a band around his waist. The Theban prince didn’t seem the least bit tentative about fighting barefoot on the rocky creek bed in the dark. Lysander noticed his brave spirit and was even more convinced that they would be great friends.

For a minute the two aspiring teenage grapplers circled each other feinting in and out and measuring each others’ reactions. Then in unison they each shot forward to score the first takedown. Their strong shoulders crashed together as they sprawled their feet backward, evading each others’ offense. Clasped elbow to elbow and cheek to cheek, they circled, searching for an opening. Lysander broke forward first, thrusting forward and unbalancing Alexander by pulling his shoulder. Alexander staggered and raised his knee. Unluckily for Lysander, his charge carried him directly into his opponent’s bony kneecap. His balls smushed into the hard bone and were rearranged painfully inside his fundoshi.

Lysander heaved over, coughing with his hands on his knees. He didn’t go down, but he gingerly cupped his junk, wishing to massage away the pain.

Alexander recognized the soft smush of flesh on his knee, and his bright hazel eyes widened like he had been caught doing something bad. “Dude! Did I get your…”

“Yeah…right in the privates,” Lysander admitted, his voice sounding even more raspy than usual. He shook out his shoulders and tried to make out like it was no big deal.

Alexander snickered. “Haha, ‘privates,’ huh. No problem then. I thought I might have accidentally got you in your nads. That would have been bad.”

The teens looked at each other then burst out laughing. The feeling of camaraderie muted the ache in Lysander’s testicles, and they circled back up. Lysander was slightly more defensive this time, and Alexander shot in first to score a takedown. The prince was quick enough to pick Lysander’s ankle, so that his opponent had to maneuver on one foot. Alexander followed up the advantage by pivoting inside and using his hip to turn Lysander, taking him down to the stony ground. Alexander’s hip ended up landing between the Spartan’s spread legs, squashing his balls into his pelvis.

It was not a heavy blow, but following closely upon the previous racking, Lysander wheezed and clutched his groin with both hands. Alexander immediately realized what parts of Lysander had cushioned his fall, and he popped back to his feet immediately.

“Shit, man, did I get you again?” The handsome prince bit his lip in sympathy. “I’m not usually this clumsy, I swear…” He patted Lysander’s shoulder awkwardly.

Lysander gritted his teeth and forced himself back to his feet, but he remained hunched over. His gray eyes glittered with pain, but he was too proud to look soft in front of his new friend.

“It’s nothing,” he said in a tone that he hoped was cool and dismissive. “Good thing Spartans have pretty tough nads,” he said, half-jokingly. “Take it easy on the Spartan babies though,” he added.

Alexander laughed at the joke but raised his eyebrows. “What Spartan babies?” he deadpanned.

Lysander nodded gravely and brought the back of his hand up, briskly cock-knocking the blond prince. The impact was not hard, but Alexander jerked back and cupped the folds of thin toga that draped between his legs. Lysander laughed and bugged his eyes out to match his friend’s goofy look.

“That was uncalled for,” Alexander said in a strained voice. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to mess with a future king’s nuts?”  

“Well, we don’t have to worry about that at least,” Lysander replied. “Nico’s not here tonight.”

At the mention of his older brother, Alexander’s countenance turned cold. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said briskly.

Lysander scratched his head. Maybe he was missing something. “Well, I’m just saying that since Nico is older than you, that makes him—“

Alexander cut him off sharply. “You never know what might happen,” he spat. There was nothing playful about his tone now, he seemed genuinely upset.
 
“Umm, okay! That makes sense.” Lysander was blindsided by the prince’s mood swing. He bit his lip, not wanting to mess up his new friendship. “Sorry.”  

Both teens seemed eager to change the subject and get back to grappling. Lysander rolled his supple neck and clapped his hands against his pecs to refocus, then he shot forward. The surge of power from his toes on the bare stones up through his calves and legs propelled him like a missile. He felt his shoulder brush against Alexander’s abs and his arms closed in to wrap him around the waist for a takedown.

But suddenly Alexander wasn’t there. Lysander’s grasp closed on empty air before stumbling forward awkwardly. Alexander had sprawled backward with almost impossible agility, and now he danced around to wrap up Lysander.

The blonde was quick to take his revenge for the earlier cock-knock, and as he reached around the Spartan’s slim waist, his hand brushed over the teens bulge and gave a quick pinch. His searching fingers caught the tip of Lysander’s cock head through the thin material of his fundoshi, causing him to yelp and drop his hands. Lowering his defenses was a mistake though, and Alexander followed up his advantage by yanking his fundoshi down roughly over his hips and around his ankles. As Lysander tried to spin around, he was tripped by his garment and landed heavily on the ground.

Kicking his way out of his snare, the black haired teen found his opponent smiling broadly and pointing at his exposed crotch. Lysander’s cheeks flamed. Not because he was shy, but because it appeared weak to be the first to get stripped. But at least Alexander was smiling again.

“Alright, alright,” Lysander grunted, rolling back to his feet and cupping his junk. “Maybe I’ll take that royal toga and wear that instead,” he threatened boldly.

Alexander’s eyes twinkled. “I dare you.”

Lysander charged forward, but he found it increasingly hard to get a grip on his skillful blonde opponent. Lysander was a skilled and experienced wrestler, but Alexander had the same athleticism and intuition that made his brother Nico a top-class fighter. And along with scoring take-downs and pins, Alexander was getting a kick out of sac-tapping the frustrated Spartan when the opportunity presented itself. A couple times when Lysander tried to bridge out of a pin, Alexander even groped his dick. The contact wasn’t especially erotic, but the constant attention was having an effect on Lysander’s teenage libido, and soon his half-erect cock was waving in front of him like a flag. He glowered at his engorged member, frustrated by his evasive opponent.

“You don’t have to fight dirty, you know.” He sounded peevish.  

Alexander looked surprised. “But there’s no rules in Pankration?” He added as an afterthought, “Actually, there’s no pouting, either.”

Lysander ignored the dig. “Spartans never fight dirty,” he said earnestly. He remembered something. ”When I told Nico that, he said it was really cool, and that he wanted to visit Sparta sometime.” Lysander grinned proudly. Nico saying he was cool was one of his favorite memories. He thought about it all the time. “So maybe we can practice that way?” he asked hopefully.

Alexander regarded him coldly. “Nico’s a moron,” he said flatly.

Lysander frowned. He really didn’t like for anybody to insult his friends, especially Nico. But what if the insulting person was also his friend? Lysander wasn’t sure. He’d never had this many friends before.

“But how about this,” Alexander continued. “You can fight like a good boy—like Nico—and I’ll fight like…a winner. Deal?” The prince’s voice was thin, like he was trying to sound light and cheerful. But there was something mean underneath.

Before Lysander could decide how to respond, Alexander stepped forward and snap-kicked him the balls, as casually as if he was putting on his sandal. For Lysander, it was as if he'd been struck by lightening. In that flashing moment his innocent gray eyes met the prince’s cynical hazel ones.

“My nuts…?” A distant part of his mind felt ridiculous for stating the unavoidable fact as a question. Then he pitched forward slowly onto his stomach, grasping beneath him for the source of his explosive, unexpected pain.

“You found ‘em! Congratulations.” Alexander was teasing him again, but it didn’t seem funny anymore.   

Alexander stood astride the downed fighter’s shoulders. He knelt down and with remarkable agility trapped the black haired teen’s muscular arms behind each of his knees, cinching them between his calf and hamstring on either side. The Spartan wriggled but couldn’t move, since all of Alexander’s weight was across his neck. Then the blond prince twisted his upper body, flipping Lysander over but not releasing his arms. He ended up flat on his back with his head in Alexander’s lap, his arms pinned tightly above and behind him in a cross shape.

Alexander knelt comfortably on his haunches and looked down at his trapped opponent. He leaned over to look Lysander in the face with a cocky smile, ruffling his short cropped black hair teasingly.

“Geez, good move,” Lysander admitted. His body was supine, but his neck was raised at a weird angle on Alexander’s lap, making it difficult for him to talk. “C’mon, though, let’s get back to practicing.”

“We are practicing, silly,” the prince responded. He sounded cheeky and friendly again, but Lysander was no longer sure.

“Ha ha. Well, it will be hard to learn much technique just sitting here on the ground, so…ooofffff.” His words were cut off by a straight punch down into his solar plexus. The shot was completely unexpected, so Lysander’s six pack provided no defense. Two more fists drove deep into his guts before he had the presence of mind to flex his well-trained abs.

“Good thing Spartans have strong abs,” Alexander’s voice mocked softly from above.

“Ok, good one again,” he gasped, credulous to the last. “But this is not how to train. Nico said it was coo…” He trailed off. Alexander was leaning over him again. Blonde curls hung around his face, so Lysander couldn’t see his eyes. Just his handsome profile against the moonlit night sky.  

“Nico said…” Alexander echoed. His voice was completely monotone now; the sound of it gave Lysander a chill.

Alexander’s fist fell like a hammer into Lysander’s unguarded ball sac, smashing his nuts ruthlessly against his own body. It was followed immediately by the opposite fist, the hammer strikes nailing the Spartan’s testicles each time, batting them one way and then the other. The remorseless prince could feel the firm orbs smush under his meaty fists.

“Uggghhhhh…” Lysander’s scream died in his throat as pain erupted from between his legs and flamed through his torso and down his legs. Pinned with his arms above his head, his most sensitive parts were wide open and vulnerable.

“Oh god my balls oh fuck oh fuck.” Lysander kept babbling and rolling his head from side to side, trying to overcome the pain through sheer willpower. This was far worse even than the direct kick. During his—albeit short—lifetime of fighting, he’d never taken such undisguised blows to his privates. Wave after leaden wave crashed up into his stomach. His bare feet pawed restlessly at the rocky ground, but no position offered respite from the agony.  

Despite himself Alexander was impressed by his opponent’s fortitude. He examined Lysander’s beaten torso in the moonlight and concluded that most fighters would already have submitted. Lysander’s six pack was already showing bruises, and there was a rough purple gash over the ribs on his right side. Alexander couldn’t even remember when he’d done that, but he really didn’t care.

His eyes followed down the V of Lysander’s lower abs that pointed to his pulverized nuts. Lysander’s bronzed skin was perfectly smooth—not a wisp of a hair from his outie navel to the top of his garment. Alexander ran his tongue over his full lips.

Then the bullying prince saw stars; his head rocked backward from a surprise blow to his jaw. Lysander had rolled his hips up and landed a backward kick to his face, making Alexander bite his tongue. He howled furiously and shook the stars out of his eyes just in time to defend against another desperate kick. This time he manage to grab Lysander by the ankle and trap his leg under his arm, folding the resilient Spartan into an improvised cradle. The taste of blood in his mouth infuriated Alexander, but it only aggravated his thirst for dominance.

Lysander thrashed as much as he could, but with three of his limbs trapped and his body nearly bent in half with his hips over his face, he was all but immobilized. His gray eyes stared up uncomprehending at the boy who he’d thought was a secret friend.

“Well, nobody can say that you don’t try hard.”

“Let me go,” Lysander rasped. “Fight me face to face.”

Alexander bent forward so that his nose was just inches from Lysander’s. He could feel the teen’s hot breath against his forehead.

“Here I am,” he said. “Face to face.” He screwed on an unnatural smile.

Lysander looked up into eyes that looked so much like Nico’s, but he didn’t see even the faintest resemblance anymore. The deranged look inhabiting otherwise wholesome, handsome features was surreal.

“Which way do you want to submit?”

“Huh?” Lysander grunted. Not in his wildest imagination had he considered submitting to this asshole. But he followed the direction of Alexander’s eyes to his own midsection, where the cradle hold had left his cock and balls to dangle uncomfortably close to his own nose.

“Oh, fuck y…” Lysander didn’t have time to finish his thought, because Alexander used his free hand to yank roughly on his package, renewing the nauseating pain in the Spartan’s crotch. Alexander sneered at the sight of the ripe, bouncing nuts, and he decided to play with them a little longer. He wrapped his hand around Lysander’s cock and pulled as if he was ringing a bell, laughing as the twin testicles bounced wildly, periodically connecting with his knuckles.

“St-sto-oo-op touching me-ee th…” Lysander moaned hoarsely. “Keep…off…my priii-iivate…”  

Lysander’s face was painted with shame from having his masculinity so thoroughly owned. Small explosions of pain blistered his insides every time his dangling balls encountered his opponent’s knuckles. Then through the haze of ball pain he also became aware of a hot pulsing in his penis. Lysander’s semi-hard cock was still squeezed in Alexander’s palm, but the rough handling had caused it to extend and poke out from the choking fist. With each callous tug from his opponent, Lysander felt his blood rise and his resistance wear away. He wished that by some miracle Alexander wouldn’t notice his arousal.  

But there was no miracle. Toying with Lysander’s erection was just a pretext for making him humiliate himself more. And if the rigid shaft in his hand was any indication, the black haired warrior’s humiliation had only just begun. He thwapped the hot piece resoundingly against his palm and loved the feeling.

Alexander bent down and stared into Lysander’s bleary eyes. “Good thing Spartans have tough nads, right?” he taunted, drumming his knuckles into the tender meatballs. Lysander groaned miserably, shaking his head. His nads didn’t feel so tough anymore.

“And what was that you said about your ‘privates’? You’re not keeping them very private,” Alexander said chuckling at his own wit. He ran his knuckles down the underside of Lysander’s erection, digging each digit into his flared glans in turn and making the Spartan teen yelp each time. “Actually I think you’re enjoying showing off. What a creep,” Alexander said disgustedly.

When he drew his hand back, a round pearl of dew hung from the Spartan teen’s exposed slit. Lysander watched transfixed as the drop of juice dripped onto his bottom lip. Against his every inclination, he tasted his own nectar for the first time.  

“Yum! Am I right?” Alexander mocked him like he was talking to a baby. Lysander was indifferent to the taste. But both teens recognized the telltale signs of a male on the verge of submitting his seed.

Lysander tried one last time to appeal to the boy who he’d thought was his friend. “Please don’t make me…” He trailed off, since saying it out loud would only be more pathetic.

“Make you what?” Alexander mocked. He seized his adversary’s nuts, holding the delicate organs his his palm, just inches from Lysander’s own face. He raised his fist. “I don’t think you have a choice.”   

“Wait!” Lysander yelled pointlessly. He watched in horror as Alexander punched the splayed nuts into the palm of his hand. Lysander’s rigid cock quivered directly above his own gaping mouth. The combatants locked eyes once more.

“Don’t…” whispered the Spartan warrior, just as his nuts were squashed flat against his opponent’s palm. The force of this second blow pushed him over the edge, racking his young body in an unwanted orgasm and blasting the cum right out of his throbbing testicles.

Lysander erupted, firing shot after shot of jizz into his own face. His sagging balls pulled tight against his body, pumping more and more creamy semen out his jumping dick. The teen bucked so wildly that Alexander recoiled, afraid he may find himself in the firing line. But he needn’t have worried. Whatever portion of Lysander’s hot cum that didn’t travel right down his own throat coated his horrified face. The novelty of the salty taste and unctuous smell overwhelmed the handsome warrior, who dropped his head back against Alexander’s lap in exhaustion.

A slow, mocking clap broke the stillness of the night—Alexander's tribute to Lysander’s degrading spectacle.

Lysander cumming - artwork created by Dizzy

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

Theo woke up when an elbow jammed into his ribs.

“I’m going to bed. G‘night.” Nico’s deep voice cut through the haze of wine that muted Theo’s consciousness. Theo raised his head from the table in the common room of the Princes’ Palace as Nico’s silhouette disappeared down a hall.

“Stupid, stupid,” Theo scolded himself. He was always suspicious when he woke up with a hoarse voice. It made Theo wonder whether he’d possibly been inventing bawdy stories and telling them in a too-loud voice. He hated when he did that. But sometimes he did it anyway when he drank too much wine. He hated when he did that, too. Because he only drank too much wine when he was shamelessly showing off for guys he was crushing on. And he hated showing off for his crushes. Because he was always far, far too obvious.

“Ugh. Stupid.”

Theo’s spinning head led him to the inevitable conclusion: he’d been crushing on someone, and all the rest had followed. Good job making the most of your trip studying abroad, he thought sourly.  

The Athenian staggered down the hall to his rooms, leaning on the wall for support. But when he pressed against a rough wooden door, he was surprised when it fell open under his hand. He stumbled in, then recovered and looked around. The room was still lit, but nobody was there. Actually, the room itself was nearly empty of anyone or anything. Just a a thin bedroll in the corner and a water basin on a low table. Although he’d never been in here before, Theo knew immediately that he was in Lysander’s room.

“Damned Spartan kid is such a pain,” Theo hiccoughed. His breath still tasted like wine. “No wonder he bugs me all the time, what could he possibly do in this boring-ass room?”

Lysander’s absence was curious though. As long as Theo had known him, the disciplined teenager had kept a strict schedule and always crashed early. Where would he have snuck off to tonight? Did his fanboy have a secret lover? Theo found the notion that somebody as annoying as Lysander was visiting a lover, while he himself was going back to a lonely room really irritating. He slammed the door behind him.

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

Lysander lay on the cool, muddy creek bed for a long time. At least it felt like a long time. He felt the blood flow back into his numbed arms, and the hot tingle in his shoulders and triceps felt good. His nuts felt heavy between his legs, it was not difficult to imagine that they were swollen. He didn’t want to look yet though. Gradually his heaving chest slowed as his breathing returned to normal.

Lysander listened. He could tell from the quiet of the palace and the occasional cries of the night birds that the hour was late. He swallowed, and his tongue felt really weird and sticky. He grimaced at the unfamiliar taste. He tried to sit straight up, but his bruised abs and throbbing nads rebelled, so he ended up rolling over and climbing to his feet off of hands and knees.

A firm hand caught him under the arm pit and helped him back to his feet.

“Man, you are one tough dude!” Alexander enthused, all sunny smiles once again. “I’m so lucky to have a friend like you to train with.”

The beaten boy looked into Alexander’s hazel eyes and saw sympathy and cheerful enthusiasm. Those were what the prince wanted him to see. Almost like he was impersonating Nico. But behind his facade, Lysander saw mockery and cruelty and ego. The prince’s duplicitous character was so clear to him now that he couldn’t believe he’d missed it before.

“Asshole.” Lysander shook his shoulder free and turned back toward the palace.

“Wait! No man, you got the wrong idea! C’mon, you know how friends can get carried away playing around sometimes…” Something in his voice sounded genuinely needy and afraid that Lysander would leave.

The hobbled Spartan teen looked over his shoulder sadly. Alexander had never wanted to be his friend.

“Liar,” he said. He was suddenly very tired and eager for bed. He took just one step in that direction when Alexander’s foot swung up between his legs from behind, punting his tender bits with a sickening crunch. Lysander crumbled to his knees in a silent scream.

“Never turn your back on a king, loser.”

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

Theo took his time meandering back toward his room. The cool night air helped to dispel the wine from his numbed mind. He was still irritated by Lysander’s disappearance, so he stopped every so often to listen at doors in case he could detect the Spartan’s annoying, raspy voice. No sooner had he put his ear to another door than it opened and he nearly collided with its occupant. Amun’s dark eyes widened with surprise as he looked over the tipsy brunette.

“Oh. Hello,” Amun said without enthusiasm. The Egyptian prince’s deep voice was smooth and quiet, and the dim light flickered off his shiny, copper skin. Theo never really noticed how much taller Amun was than himself until now.  

Would it kill this guy to smile every once in a while? Theo thought. He’s even more annoying than Lysander. The snobby prince smelled really nice though, and that annoyed Theo also. He hiccoughed but didn’t return Amun’s greeting.

“Um…did you want to come in or something?” Amun scratched his head uncertainly and shifted slightly, not sure whether he was supposed to extend an invitation in this unexpected meeting.

“No!” Theo answered a little too quickly and a little too loudly.

Amun looked embarrassed, but he just said “Okay.” Theo detected a hint of disappointment in the prince’s fine features.

“I mean, yes! Er, that is, yes but no. I mean I can’t. Because I’ve got to find someone. Someone is supposed to be in bed, except that they’re missing and…” The small part of Theo’s brain that was not tipsy heard him babbling and told himself to shut up.

Amun opened his mouth and then closed it again without speaking. The cute brunette always talked too fast, so the shy Egyptian was never sure what to say in response. They stood there for a minute just looking at each other.

“Who’s missing?”

“Huh?”

“You said someone’s missing.”

“Who said that? Me?”

Amun’s shoulders slumped, and he started to close the door. Talking to Theo was exhausting.

“Wait!”

Amun paused, but Theo hadn’t thought much beyond not wanting the somber prince to think he was an idiot. So he surprised himself by just telling the truth.

“I’m looking for Lysander. He was acting weird today and now he’s missing. Want to come with?”

Amun recognized Theo’s clumsy attempt and nodded thoughtfully. Something about Lysander stirred his memory.

“How do you mean he was acting weird?”

“Well he hardly bothered me at all. Normally he’s underfoot all day. Now his room is empty and it’s way past his bedtime.”

Amun rolled his eyes. “Lysander doesn’t have a bedtime, he’s like one year younger than you.” He brushed past Theo down the corridor and spoke over his shoulder. “And by the sound of it, he’s probably just getting more—how do you Greeks say it? Getting more ‘action’ tonight than you are.”

Theo stared dumbly at Amun’s retreating back. “Prude,” he muttered. “Hey, wait up!”

  **************

Lysander was still doubled over from the devastating low kick when Alexander clasped him around the waist, pulling him clean off his feet and holding his body parallel to the ground. Lysander was in no position to resist, and soon found himself falling freely back to the ground. He was intercepted by Alexander’s extended knee, which he splashed across with full impact on his abs. His softened up torso sank deeply over Alexander’s knee, knocking the wind out of him and making him wretch.

Alexander grabbed the breathless teen and raised him up again. Again he dropped him, but this time Lysander landed in a painful back breaker. His body jolted to a halt as his spine and kidneys cracked across Alexander’s unyielding knee. By the third time that he hoisted his victim, Alexander could feel that the Spartan was as limp as a doll. When he crushed the teen over his knee in a crippling backbreaker, Lysander’s head rolled feebly, and his once energetic arms dragged on the ground.

Alexander held him in the backbreaker, surveying his adversary’s taut muscles and bruised flesh. The ridges of Lysander’s abs sloped down toward his chest, while his pelvis thrust upward from the awkward angle of his back. The Spartan’s disciplined commitment to calisthenics was evident in the veins that popped out over his shoulders, pecs, and even his lower abs.

“Too bad you’re such a pussy, because you might have been a real stud some day,” Alexander tutted.

Lysander’s arched position left his cock and balls fully exposed, jutting upward like ripe fruit waiting to be picked. His balls hung swollen from taking so many direct hits, and his cock slumped sadly over toward his hip bone, sticking to his skin with drying cum. Partly to humiliate the fallen warrior, and partly because of the thrill of owning another male’s virility, Alexander reached up between Lysander’s legs and cupped his juicy nads. The warm orbs throbbed softly in his hand, beating faintly in rhythm with Lysander’s heart. They felt surprisingly heavy considering the creamy load that they had just wasted all over their owner’s face.

Lysander was dizzy from the rush of blood to his upside-down head, so it took him a moment to recognize the danger that his plump nuts were in. Alexander pinched the root of his cock and waggled his flaccid member, slapping it thoughtlessly against Lysander’s belly. He winced, still sensitive from his recent ejaculation.

“Stop…my cock…fucking pervert!” he groaned, even though he knew that the arrogant prince would do whatever he felt like regardless. Alexander silenced him with a firm squeeze that compacted his entire package. Lysander’s resilient testicles bulged out between Alexander’s fingers, but he pushed them back in by jabbing a thumb and finger deep into the prime meat.

“My nuts my nuts my nuts,” Lysander whined quietly.

The dominant blonde teen wanted to draw out his fun, so he eased up his grip. With his other hand he absently rubbed his fingertips down the exposed underside of Lysander’s shaft; the petting just added to the overwhelming swirl of sensations that left the young Spartan reeling.

“Since we are friends, I want to show you a new move I’ve been working on.” He cupped Lysander’s sac once again, isolating each ball while he continued to tease his cock. “I call it the Kingmaker. Want to know how it works?” Alexander’s voice carried a hum of excitement.

Lysander shook his head wildly. He most definitely was not curious at all about his tormentor’s new move. A deep moan escaped his lips when two roving fingertips brushed over his partially-exposed glans. He blushed furiously, hating to have such an un-warlike sound forced out of him.

Alexander’s handsome face twisted into a sneer as his victim’s penis slowly rose back to full hardness. He tugged down on Lysander’s sac to make his cock stand up perpendicular to his lean torso. The Spartan’s rod was smooth and perfectly straight, barely tapering at all at the tawny brown head. It was respectably long, too—a very nice piece all things considered. That made the prince even more eager for what he would do next.

“First you take the measure of the man, so to speak. Really understand what he’s working with. All guys are basically built the same, but it’s the subtle differences that keep things interesting.” Lysander gritted his teeth as his round balls were slapped and prodded. What he was ‘working with’ had never been more rigorously inspected.

“Not my not my nuuuuuuuughghhhgg….”

“Then you go deeper. When a man is in pain, he reveals a lot about himself. It’s like learning a secret.” The duplicitous prince leaned over until he could look into Lysander’s face. “Do you know what it’s like to have a secret?”

The handsome, black haired teen stared up with wide, uncomprehending gray eyes. He was doing his best not to scream, but every time Alexander’s claw-like fingers rolled his nuts against each other, his whole body shuddered. The last of his pride and his resolve to remain silent were eroded away under an ocean of unimaginable torment. A glossy strand of drool ran down from the corner of his mouth, barely visible under the dark sky.

“Then, you give him…mercy,” Alexander said, relishing the word. He released the claw hold so that Lysander’s balls sat just in the palm of his hand. The teen warrior panted like mad; his eyes revealed a glimmer of desperate hope. Would Alexander let him go? The blond prince smiled. “The chance to spill his seed one last time before he is broken entirely.”

Lysander started up, not believing what he was hearing. But Alexander shoved his chin back down, bending his back beyond endurance. Meanwhile his other hand returned with the claw hold, intent on grinding his warm, round testicles into a spongy mass. Intent on repaying life and virility with death and decay.

“Please…please…why me?” His voice was barely a whisper.

The prince considered the question for a moment. “Because you’re nobody. No one will even notice that you’ve left the palace.”

Tears streamed down Lysander’s face. Every pulse of the claw on his balls felt like it could shatter them, and every rough yank on his cock made his head spin. Finally a scream broke from him, wrenched from the depths of his being.

“I GIVE, I GIVE, I GIVE!” Lysander’s voice was raw as his spunk erupted from his cock once again. Despite being his second orgasm within fifteen minutes, he shot prodigiously, spraying creamy semen over his abs so that it trickled down toward his chest. His cramped muscles twitched as his seed slowed and oozed down his shaft. Alexander dug to his meat to extract the maximum load, at the maximum price. With this last great betrayal of his own body to his enemy, Lysander’s head dropped back and he lost consciousness.

  **************

As they explored the forgotten corners of the Princes’ Palace, Amun filled Theo in on the early morning meeting he had observed between Lysander and the blonde mystery boy. Amun had assumed it was the start of a harmless friendship, and hadn’t given it any further thought.  

From Amun’s description, Theo deduced that the mystery boy must have been Alexander. But he was not so sure about the harmless part. He told Amun how Nico had reacted so strongly against his brother joining the Pankration. They agreed that there was more to the story, and they trusted Nico’s judgement enough to take his reservations seriously.

But since there was no specific reason yet to believe that their young buddy was in trouble, the pair took their time meandering and getting used to each others’ company. Eventually, Amun led them down along the wooded edges of the palace compound.

“Okay, I said that you could come with me,” Theo whined, “not that you could be the leader. And not that we would go prowling around the stables for fuck's sake. I figured you were the kind of guy who liked fancy places.”

“Shush.”

“Do not ‘shush’ me! Just because you never talk at all, just mope around like a mummy, doesn’t give you the…”

Amun reeled around, his jaw was set in concentration. Theo looked up at him from under heavily lidded brown eyes. He was close enough that Amun’s scent carried to him through the night. He ran his tongue over his lower lip.

“Shush,” Amun repeated sternly. “I think I heard something.”

Theo straightened his back and made a show of stepping away and keeping his mouth tightly shut. Fucking prude. The fury radiating from the scorned brunette was enough to make the tall Egyptian wilt.

But as Theo stomped away, they both heard a hoarse scream rise up briefly before it was swallowed by the deep night. Without a second thought, Theo shot forward heedlessly in the darkness.

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

Alexander stood still, listening. All he could hear was the trickle of the creek and the Spartan’s labored breathing. Lysander lay in a heap where Alexander had dumped him when he thought he’d heard voices. He scowled at himself for being jumpy and imagining voices. Nobody would be crazy enough to be this far from the palace at this hour of the night.

I’m crazy enough though, he thought, chuckling. And this loser.

Lysander lay face down in the stony creek bed. His tears had dried into muddy streaks across his smooth cheeks, and his eyes were tightly closed, as if in a nightmare. As if. One arm clutched the small of his back, which had been torqued cartoonishly for the better part of a half hour. His other hand was between his legs, offering meagre comfort to his devastated gonads. His reddened cock trailed out between his legs, still drooling clear juice after his second forced ejaculation.

And just above his pulped nuts and between his broken-puppet legs, Lysander’s hairless, puckered hole was barely visible. Alexander remained perfectly still, but now his pulse pounded in his ears. The prince’s blonde, sweaty curls clung around his face in a demonic halo. He would wait to use the Kingmaker some other time, and next time he would not be interrupted.

But although he hadn’t done everything he’d set out to do, the night may not yet be all lost. Unlike his hated brother, Alexander liked to savor things. He reveled in little details. Like how the black haired teen’s hole twitched under the pressure as Alexander traced his muddy toe slowly around the his virgin entrance. Or how Lysander’s trained and polished muscles knitted together across his aching back. Or the whimpering sounds that the boy made whenever Alexander lost balance and stepped onto his dragging balls.

Oops. My bad.

The silky, rubbery skin of Lysander’s hole, together with the sweat and grit of their combat, kept Alexander completely engrossed in the sensations of his big toe. He was lost in a reverie of pleasure, and the anticipation of pleasures yet to come.

So it took the prince a moment to process what had happened when he was bowled over from behind and tackled into the shallow creek.

“Get off of him, asshole!”

Alexander's head snapped back when a fist cracked against his jaw, and his mouth filled with warm blood. Then his face was dragged roughly under water, pressed into the muddy creek bottom. He came up gasping for breath. His astonished eyes locked with Theo’s furious brown ones just before a snap kick to his temple snuffed out his consciousness.

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

Theo stumbled back over to where Amun had gathered Lysander up in his arms. His legs felt wobbly from sprinting so long, and his heavy breath sounded like it was rattling somewhere outside of himself. Theo grabbed his friend’s rough hand and pumped it fiercely. Tears washed down his face, though he was not sure what emotion had brought them on.

“Sander! Buddy, hey listen, Sander!”

Below his muddied and bloodied brow, one of Lysander’s gray eyes popped open.

“Hey Theo,” he rasped. He attempted to smile bravely but almost immediately nodded off into exhausted slumber. Theo fell to one knee, relieved and overwhelmed, leaning on the stoic Egyptian. He sniffled and didn’t even care that Amun saw him.

Pressing Lysander up against his chest, Amun could feel that the young warrior’s heartbeat was now steady and slow. The prince looked solemnly at Theo, reassuring him that all was well. Amun was more worried for Theo, actually. He’d never seen the brunette so fierce or so sincere.

Amun steered them back toward the Princes’ Palace with slow, even steps.

“Let’s all sleep in tomorrow,” he said.