The Bathhouse
They were allowed to pick their own sparring partners in the training arena—Niko and Alexios clung to each other as quarterstaffs were passed out. Ten pairs of recruits spread across the dusty enclosure, a smaller version of the city's grand arena used for yesterday's selection.
"Have you ever fought with one of these?" muttered Alexios, running his hand along the wooden staff.
Niko shook his head, nervously eyeing Damon, who had taken a seat on the raised platform across the arena. General Lykos sat beside him in a throne-like chair, the two men engrossed in conversation. A slave girl stood behind them, holding a silver tray piled high with grapes.
"So let's just—" Alexios raised his quarterstaff above his head and tried to look serious.
Niko burst out laughing. "That's terrifying."
"Boys!" One of the drillmasters overseeing the pairs marched over. "This is not the fucking theatre. This is war! Fight!"
Terrified, they both began sparring. After less than a minute, Niko realized Alexios was just as bad as he was at staff fighting. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Damon watching them, his face unreadable. That—and the fact that he wasn't getting his ass handed to him—gave Niko a boost of confidence, and he soon drove Alexios backward.
"I thought you said you hadn't done this before," Alexios whined.
Their quarterstaffs connected with an almighty crack.
"I haven't," said Niko, jumping backward as Alexios tried to land a strike on his chest. Both of their bodies were glistening with sweat.
Damon was still staring at him.
The distraction gave Alexios an opening—he pressed forward and spun his staff, striking Niko's leg.
"Ouch, fuck," Niko yelped, hopping back.
Alexios laughed. "Alright, maybe we call that a draw."
The drillmaster picked that moment to stride past. "I'd call it a fucking embarrassment. Again!"
The boys looked at each other. Alexios rolled his eyes the moment the drillmaster turned around. Niko stifled a laugh as he lunged into another attack.
***
"Enough! Drop your weapons."
Exhausted, Niko let his quarterstaff fall and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the dull ache that had formed.
After an hour, they'd fought countless times, both he and Alexios claiming about an equal number of wins. They weren't the best fighters in the group—judging from what they'd glimpsed of the others, they were probably the worst—but Niko was proud they'd finished the session still on their feet.
"You will all meet your partners at the boathouse to clean up," the drillmaster barked. "Then you'll be shown your new quarters before the welcome feast."
Murmurings broke out among the recruits. Niko felt his heart thud faster. Damon is going to bathe with me?
He glanced toward the stage—Damon was deep in conversation with Commander Lykos. A few of the older veterans had already led their new partners out of the arena.
Should I wait for him? Or will he meet me there?
Another veteran, nearly as tall as Damon but with shoulder-length blond hair, approached them. Niko felt Alexios tense beside him, a flicker of a smile crossing his lips.
"I trust you enjoyed yourself," said the soldier, eyes locked on Alexios. He was naked from the waist up except for a golden necklace, a pendant resting on his chest. It must be Theron—Alexios's partner.
Alexios bit his lip as he nodded. "Yes, sir."
He glanced once at Niko before following Theron out of the arena.
Niko swallowed. The stage where Damon had sat was vacant. In fact, he couldn't see the soldier anywhere.
Feeling increasingly foolish, he walked through the arena gates into the courtyard beyond.
A building on the far side seemed to house the compound's bathhouse. Incense burned in large bronze plates outside, and slaves stood at attention near the doors. Pairs of veterans and their new partners were coming and going, towels wrapped around their waists.
Niko gulped. That would be him and Damon soon enough.
If Damon bothered to turn up.
He glanced around again—no sign of the soldier.
Annoyance bubbled in his chest. Yes, he didn't belong in this citadel. But Damon had chosen him—couldn't he at least show the smallest bit of courtesy?
Niko leaned on a sandstone pillar, taking a deep breath. Maybe I'm being irrational. What if he's waiting inside the bathhouse?
Mustering what confidence he had, he marched toward the doors.
A slave stepped forward as he approached. "A towel, sir?" The man—middle-aged but not unattractive—held a stack of towels under his arm.
"Um... yes." Niko took one. "You haven't seen Damon—sorry, I mean Lord Damon—come in by any chance?"
He had no idea if that was the correct honorific, but it seemed appropriate given Damon's rank.
The slave bowed. "I couldn't say, sir, I apologize. If desired, I can inquire within..."
Niko shook his head quickly. "No, that won't be needed." Not wanting to appear foolish, he took the towel and walked inside.
The bathhouse swallowed him whole. The atrium was cave-like, lit only by the simmering fire in a stone pit at its center. A copper tub hung above it, sending plumes of steam into the air. Niko's skin grew instantly slick with sweat.
The air smelled of crushed mint leaves.
A pair passed him on their way out, dressed only in towels. The younger man's cheeks were flushed; the older veteran rested a hand on his companion's shoulder.
With Damon still nowhere to be seen, Niko pushed deeper into the complex, under an arch and into the main bath.
The long, low-ceilinged chamber held a rectangular pool at its center. Steam rose from the water, obscuring most of the men within. Quiet conversation and soft moans echoed off the stone walls. Niko's stomach tightened.
Another male slave approached, draped in a simple linen wrap. A gold band circled his neck. "This way, sir. We can help you disrobe."
Not knowing what else to do, Niko followed him to a small alcove lined with wooden shelves. He raised his arms, letting the slave undress him piece by piece.
A veteran passed by, holding his younger partner's hand as if leading him somewhere. Both were muscular, naked—and very erect. The younger man bit his lip as they disappeared around the corner. Niko felt his own arousal stir.
"We can take care of that, m'lord, if your partner is otherwise engaged."
It took Niko a moment to realize the slave was pointing at his growing erection.
He shook his head quickly, cheeks burning. "No, that's fine... um... thank you. I'm waiting for..."
His voice trailed off. What exactly was he waiting for? Damon hadn't brought him here. He hadn't been waiting for him either.
Niko sighed. Deep down, he'd always believed he wasn't wanted. His father hadn't wanted him. His brothers ignored him. And now this man—who was supposed to be his partner—had rejected him too, for reasons Niko could only assume were fair enough.
The slave bowed gently. "Very well, sir. If you change your mind, please let me or any of the others know. They'll be pleased to assist."
Niko had no idea how to respond, but fortunately, the slave—after folding his training clothes onto a shelf—bowed again and left.
Feeling exposed, Niko decided that if Damon didn't want to meet him, he could at least clean himself after the hours of training.
The water might help me relax, if anything.
He dipped a foot into the pool. The water was hot but not scalding. Sliding in, he let it envelop him like a warm blanket on a summer night. For a moment, he lost himself in its embrace.
Coming up for air, he wiped his eyes. Maybe Damon's already here, waiting for me?
A wave of guilt hit him. While the soldiers had been told to meet their companions in the bathhouse, no one had specified where. Perhaps he was being overly emotional—Damon might have his own plan. Yes, that was surely it.
Niko waded through the steaming water. He could see only a few feet ahead.
Two older soldiers lounged to his left, talking quietly. Their partners laughed softly beside them. No one paid him any mind.
The sound of splashing and low moans came from further down the pool. Face hot from the steam, Niko waded closer. Through the mist, two figures took shape—a lean young man straddling the waist of an older soldier, rising and falling on him in rhythm.
Niko froze.
It was Alexios. Moaning into the shoulder of his new partner, Theron.
Niko's cock stirred instantly at the sight—his friend writhing in pleasure as Theron lifted him, then pushed him back down onto his shaft.
"Shhh, my little flower," Theron whispered into his ear. "You can take it. This is how I'll teach you control."
Alexios only whimpered in response, eyes glazed with ecstasy.
Niko swallowed hard. It had been months since he'd last been fucked—a stableboy at his father's estate—and the heat, the scent of sex, and the sight of Alexios's body were making him dizzy. He turned away, pushing on through the mist.
He passed other pairs—some talking quietly, others lost in pleasure. It left him flushed, aroused, and increasingly frustrated.
Where the fuck is he?
At last he reached the far end of the pool. Still no Damon.
Niko sighed and hauled himself out of the water. Still self-conscious despite the nudity all around him, he walked briskly back toward the changing alcove, eyes fixed on the floor.
Another slave stepped forward, a bundle of clothing in his arms.
"Sir, Commander Damon sent me to deliver these to you, and to escort you to his private quarters."
Niko gulped. Perhaps I haven't been entirely forgotten.
He nodded and took the clothes—a simple white chitoniskos and a fresh pair of sandals—then dressed quickly.
When he turned back to the shelf where his old clothes had been stored, it was empty.
"The Commander has made arrangements for your belongings, sir. There's no need to worry."
A sense of unease crept over him. Still, he nodded and followed the slave out of the bathhouse.
Thanks for reading—and thank you to everyone who’s gotten in touch or given feedback! Keep it coming…it’s lots of fun writing these x
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