Chapter Fourteen
Roman trained exceptionally hard during his gym routine over the course of the next several days, biting back his rage during the sparring bouts with Ezra. Despite avoiding Levi since their last conversation, Roman hadn’t lost the spark of anger Levi’s protective judgment brought out.
Roman ran faster on the treadmill, and he did extra reps on his glute’s routine, his leg routine, and the core workout meant to tighten his waist to Ezra’s liking instead of bulk up to Roman’s preference.
When the time came to go to the back training room and get a little private sparring in, Roman took deep breaths to let go of his anger. It’d do him no good here. As Ezra and Roman stretched in preparation, they found someone breaking their privacy.
“Whoa, so this is the champion’s setup?” Levi waltzed inside like he owned the place, which he very much did not.
This space belonged to Ezra. Everything belonged to Ezra.
“Do you mind?” Roman asked, accusatory and not seeking an answer.
“Not at all.” Levi shrugged. “I came here to train, but I guess I can watch you guys work.”
“It’s private,” Roman snapped, instinctive and not remotely hiding his annoyance for Levi. “You can’t be in here.”
“I assumed this was open to everyone, like the rest of the champion’s things.” Levi pointed to the surroundings of the private gym currently in use but eyed Roman.
That pissed Roman off. Was Levi insinuating he was a thing?
“It’s not,” Roman snapped.
“Now, now.” Ezra slapped a hand to Roman’s chest. “I do try to share when I can. It keeps the people happy.”
“I do like to be a happy person.” Levi grinned at both men. “I can think of a few things that’d make me happy.”
“Well, the list better be limited to what we can do on the mat,” Roman interjected, desperate for Levi not to bring up what he had in the cafeteria, which Ezra was already aware of.
“I can think of a lot of things to do on these mats.” Levi wiggled his toes and pressed his feet into the cushioned flooring.
“I’d love to see what you’re capable of, Levi.” Ezra locked eyes with him. “Fighting wise, of course.”
“Of course.” Levi smiled. “I’ll gladly show you.”
Levi stripped off his shirt, revealing his flawless skin. Not a bragging point for a fighter. While Levi might’ve stepped into the arena and had a few successful bouts, none had proven a struggle, and his unblemished skin was proof of that. It didn’t mean Levi was just that skilled; no, Roman declared in his thoughts, it was merely a sign of Levi’s weakness, of the fact he hadn’t gotten dirty enough. An omen he’d only scratched the surface of the brutality in the underground arena.
Still, Roman couldn’t help but steal glances at Levi’s muscular abdomen. He’d always been bigger than Roman, more fit, but Roman had only now started to realize just how firm and strong his body was. Levi’s arms and chest were so broad it would take Ezra and Roman combined to reach those measurements.
The tight joggers Levi wore clung to his thick thighs and strong calves, a gift from a patron of the Lawless Authority, no doubt, sponsoring Levi’s meager successes in the fighting arena. Roman suspected as much because the gray left little to the imagination, and the fabric accentuated the curve of Levi’s thick ass. No way would Levi acquire something so striking without help from the audience on the balcony.
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 this move. 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.
“Sorry,” he growled. “I know there’s an audience. Just can’t help myself with you.”
“The only audience I’m concerned about is you.” Roman turned Ezra’s head, locked eyes with him, and kissed the man with a fiery passion.
Heat and rage he’d surrendered months ago, but somehow Levi managed to ignite the spark, the fury. It created a carnal desire, an all-consuming hunger of lust and want and need. Roman thrust against Ezra, lifting himself, adjusting himself, and offering himself, and it didn’t take long for Ezra to catch the hint.
Ezra yanked down Roman’s sweats and then his own. Roman wriggled loose of his pants, spreading his legs and wrapping them around Ezra’s hips for easy access. Ezra spat on his hand and stroked himself until he’d poorly lubed his cock, and then he shoved into Roman with such rough force, he screamed, dragging his nails across Ezra’s back and pulling the man into a tight hug. Ezra was too big, too rough with his strokes, to go in unlubed, but all the same, Roman called out for more.
“Fuck me,” he moaned with hazy vision.
Roman allowed Ezra to bury himself in him, caressing Ezra’s back, gripping Ezra’s hips, encouraging Ezra to rest his face in the crook of Roman’s neck. Each time Ezra plowed into Roman, they grunted in unison. It didn’t take long for Roman’s grunts to turn into desperate panting. Roman barely held back his furious tears, taking the entirety of Ezra. All the while, he let his head fall backward, staring upside down at Levi, who watched Roman get fucked.
Levi’s anger built as his breathing hastened. Roman didn’t blink, didn’t look away. He studied every inch of Levi’s sweaty body, the slight bulge of his crotch, and the rage in Levi’s striking blue eyes. Roman held onto his own rage as Ezra pounded into him faster and harder and meaner. Roman imagined Levi with each new thrust; he envisioned their bodies entwined from messy combat; he wondered how much anger Levi could bury in him, how merciless he could be with Roman, how much he’d like to use Roman.
Roman begged for more, giving Ezra permission to ruin him, wreck him, and leave him a broken mess on the mat, all while glimpsing Levi in his thoughts. It was a dirty secret he couldn’t divulge, a craving he couldn’t satiate.
Levi’s angry expression finally cracked and fell apart, leaving a somber man whose blue eyes held a yearning for Roman. Not to fuck him—no, Roman didn’t believe that. Levi merely wanted more for Roman, more than this path. But there was nothing left of Roman to be salvaged, and he wanted to show Levi that, show him he would be okay all the same, show him that even in the primal lust of submission, Ezra did care for him.
“Roll over.” Ezra slipped off Roman and grabbed him by the hips before spinning him over.
Roman’s face slapped against the mat, and he rested his arms in front of his head, then raised his ass to meet Ezra. He groaned when Ezra reinserted himself forcefully.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Roman gritted his teeth.
“Too much for you?” Ezra asked, hand pressed to the nape of Roman’s neck as he pinned him in place and plowed.
Roman eyed Levi one more time. “It’s never too much.”
And with that, Levi took his leave, and Ezra railed Roman until he cried and begged for Ezra to finish.
“Please cum,” Roman whimpered.
Ezra snatched Roman by the jaw, craning his neck to face him as he banged into him from behind. With a fierce kiss, Ezra climaxed, bucking desperately into Roman’s sore hole. Roman kissed back, muffling his cries into Ezra, who growled with a bit more assertive strength the weaker Roman became.
“You’re so fucking perfect.” Ezra kissed Roman with heavy panting breaths, stealing the air from his lungs. “I think it’s time you take a bigger role in things.”
“How much bigger we talking?” Roman jested, helping slip Ezra’s softened cock out of him. “I don’t think I can handle much bigger.”
“You can handle anything, so long as I want it, right?” Ezra’s green eyes were fixed on Roman, the pleasure on his face didn’t mask the malice in his gaze. This was less a question and more a demand, an understanding between them, and Roman sheepishly nodded.
“What do you need from me?”
“I’d like you to join me during a meeting,” Ezra said. “I’d like for you to see the full extent of the champion’s responsibilities, to see the power of this title.”
Power Ezra held. Power meant to remind Roman that, despite everything he did to stay on top, he’d never fully grasped what his role in life was. Now, he’d never be on top again, and Ezra helped Roman understand that a little more each day.