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The clamor of the crowd, the screams of the wounded and the savage cries of the warriors echoed down the tunnel where the gladiators waited to enter the arena, but the ghastly cacophony left Elak unfazed. The cheetah was a veteran of many battles despite his youthful age, and death was already an old companion for him.

"Is it tight enough?" a small otter asked as he fastened a strap to Elak's torso.

The name of the second male was Tycho, and he was Elak's personal servant. Both men were slaves, property of one of the rich patricians who ran the city, yet they differed in every other respect. Elak was tall and well-built for a cheetah, with a golden coat spotted with black and a pair of dark amber eyes. His companion was several inches smaller, cute rather than handsome, with light-brown fur and big round eyes that gave him a boyish look of innocence. Tycho was not a fighter, his role was to look after his master's weapons and armor and soothe his body and mind after a battle.

"It is, that's the third time you're checking it," Elak chided with a slight grin.

The cheetah wore a shoulder guard and a breastplate of bronze-reinforced leather but his stomach and lower body were left unprotected, with only a thin loincloth shielding his manly parts from view. For a light warrior such as him speed and skill, rather than armor and brute strength, were the best guarantees of survival in battle.

"I know. I'm just nervous about today," Tycho admitted whilst tightening up the leather straps. His naked, white-furred belly shone dimly in the subterranean darkness. Unlike the gladiators the assistants wore no garments at all, their nude, unsullied bodies marking them as noncombatants amidst the sweat and gore and adding a lurid element to the spectacle.

Elak could understand the otter's anxiety. It wasn't even noon but the day had already been exceptionally bloody. The morning's battles had pitted small carnivores armed only with sharpened stakes and bows against rhinoceroses and elephants, with predictable results. The pair walked up to the metal gate that separated the tunnel from the arena and looked through the iron bars. The sand was littered with corpses but one elephant-man still stood defiantly in the middle of the carnage, his unclothed body protected only by strange swirling tattoos. Around him circled a half-dozen famished-looking hyenas and jackals, their weapons raised at the ready for a quick jab at the colossus whose trunk and bloodied tusks swayed wildly as he cursed his tormentors in a guttural language none could understand. Suddenly one of the canines sprang forward and drove his spear into the elephant's thigh. A deep-throated trumpet of rage and pain rang through the arena, and before the jackal could pull out his spear a boulder-sized fist swatted him aside and sent him rolling in the dirt with half his bones broken. The elephant stomped forward and the dying man barely had time to scream in terror before a trunk-like foot put an end to his life with a sickening crunch.

Tycho shielded his eyes behind his hands, unable to watch.

"Don't worry," the cheetah said and let his friend rest his head on his shoulder, "These wretches are criminals and barbarians sentenced to die. Their blood is worth nothing."

Elak's tone was reassuring but his confident poise could not completely hide the feeling that something was wrong. Although death and injury were common occurrences in the arena, such wholesale slaughter was unusual, and the raucous cheers of the spectators made it clear that their thirst for bloodshed had only been whetted.

"The next fight will not be to the death. Our master has spent too much gold training me to throw my life away like that," the gladiator added with a smile he hoped looked genuine.

"Well, be careful. And please stay in one piece," Tycho said. He stretched on the tips of his toes and planted a kiss on the bigger male's lips. Elak returned the kiss and hugged his friend tightly.

"I expect a warm bath and a massage after I win the fight," he whispered in his ear.

"You know how much I enjoy tending to your needs..." Tycho whispered back.

Elak grinned and ran his hand down the slave's chest, his fingers tracing the soft fur and wandering lower and lower to cup the two little plums between his legs. It sometimes bothered him that thousands of men and women could feast their eyes on Tycho's nude form, but he took comfort in the fact that only he could take the otter to his couch. The few other gladiators who had tried to lay a hand on Tycho had not lived long to regret their mistake.

A roar of agony made them turn their heads. The elephant was down on his knees, blood pouring down his flanks from the arrows and javelins embedded in his thick hide. His mighty trunk still squeezed the mangled body of a hyena but the blood-maddened men swarmed him and plunged their spears into his body again and again until he finally collapsed with a throaty gurgle, kicking up a cloud of dust that drew a veil over his death throes. The crowd fell silent then broke out in delirious applause while the few surviving hunters looked at each other with haggard, empty eyes.

The warrior gently brushed his lover aside. Now was not the time to be distracted. Already the blast of a horn announced that the next fight was about to begin. Tycho handed the gladiator a short sword and shield and positioned himself behind him. The metal gate rose with a loud rumble and Elak stepped into the arena with his servant in tow, ready to meet his opponent.

The sand was ablaze from the heat of the sun at Elak's zenith. Occasionally, between steps, the pads on his feet were relieved from the stinging pain of the earth, given solace by the pools of blood that ran from the cold body of the elephant, who was being dragged back into the depths from which the cheetah came.

Unphased, his paces came to an end as he reached the center of the coliseum, steadfast and ready to face his opponent. The horn sounded. The gate on the opposing side creaked first, then rose. From the darkness and through falling sand came a sable bull, a good two heads taller than Elak and holding a cobbled together mace at his shoulder. His white horns gleamed in the sun, pointing upwards as if to challenge its dominion over the sky. The hefty bovine hesitated upon seeing who was waiting for him. Elak breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's Sulla." He said over his shoulder to Tycho, knowing that the otter would be happy to see an old friend.

Months ago, in the pit, Tycho was pinned to the wall by a lusty wolf, who intended to have his way with the young slave. He cried for help at a few passers by, but none would even acknowledge him, save for a bull who had recently returned from a fight. Before Elak could rush down into the baths, sword drawn, the lupine assailant was curled up on the ground, writhing in pain from a swift blow to the solar plexus.

"Your assistant, I assume?" Sulla grumbled as Tycho ran from behind him to embrace a dumbfounded Elak.

Since the incident, Tycho and Sulla's assistant, an antelope named Murmillo, became fast friends, often exchanging the day's gossip with one another as they washed armor.

Sulla carried himself with dignity, keeping with a strict moral code and fighting honorably. He made a reputation for himself among the gladiators as the most approachable. He was also one of the few fighters besides Elak who maintained an exceptionally passionate relationship with his assistant, which the large cat silently commended.

Unlike his carnivorous opponent, Sulla did not feel the need to shield his manhood. As the bulky stud made his approach, Elak couldn't help but stare at the alluring dark fruits that swung to and fro beneath his pink speckled sheath. He wasn't entirely nude, however. Across his breast he wore a bronze plate, held in place by leather straps that hugged his back. A golden ear piercing in the shape of a ring hung from one of his ears, identical to one that hung from the antelope that followed behind him.

Murmillo may have occupied the same role as Tycho, but had it not been for his consistent nudity, Elak was convinced that he could seamlessly blend in with the upper echelons of society. He carried himself with an air of confidence seldom found in most slaves. He walked with a sway in his hip that other gladiators found hypnotic, though they all restrained themselves on Sulla's account. He was lean, covered in a coat of short brown fur that gave way to white around his eyes, chest, belly and inner thighs. His corkscrew antlers stood proudly above his head which served to confirm his maleness to the audience, as his white genitals were modest in size and blended in fairly well with his midsection.

From the entrance behind the large herbivore, Elak saw movement. Puzzled, he leaned to the side to get a better look. Two lions emerged from the darkness, clad in the finest centurion armor. They snuck up behind Murmillo and wrapped a red cloth around his maw. The act took the antelope by surprise, and he kicked up dust as he was dragged back to the coliseum wall.

"What..." Elak turned his head fully to meet Tycho's eyes now, only to realize with horror that he was missing. It didn't take long for him to see that the otter too, was struggling against the grasp of two leonine centurions as they forced him against the cold sandstone wall of the arena.

On instinct, Elak brandished his sword and began to take strides to help his lover, but he froze as the roaring of the audience around him fell silent, a sign that the patron of the games was about to speak.

The stands surrounding the arena were crammed to bursting with a motley crowd of men and women except for one richly decorated box in which, surrounded by slaves and concubines, sat a fat pig in a purple toga. The man stood up with some difficulty, helped by two servants, and raised a pudgy, bejeweled hand to wave at the crowd.

"Citizens of our fine city!" He began with the booming voice of a practiced orator, "It is my honor to entertain you in celebration of my new consulship. Let these splendid games please the gods and allow us to start the year under the best auspices."

The spectators broke out in wild cheers, and the senator humored them with smiles and salutes until a loud blast from a horn commanded silence again.

"Many of you will recognise the two brave men that stand in this arena. I have spared no expense in training them and they have brought all of us many hours of pleasure. But common pleasure is not what I want to offer you today." He paused for effect and the people in the stands began to chatter among themselves and crane their necks to study the gladiators, as if trying to guess what was to come.

"Men fight for many things," the pig resumed, his tone suddenly grave, "They fight for glory and riches, for honor and vengeance. But, as the ancient philosophers tell us, they never fight so fiercely as when they defend their loved ones..."

The blood in Elak's veins froze and the pads of his hands turned clammy. The voice of the pig and the murmur of the crowd merged into a low rumble in his ears as he turned his head towards Tycho. The look of growing fear on the otter's face confirmed that the cheetah had not misunderstood his master's words.

"...today only one couple will walk out of this arena alive. To spur these fighters to give their best, I declare that the loser will forfeit not only his own life, but also that of his beloved. These gladiators are worth a hundred common slaves each, but for your pleasure I will gladly pay any price!"

Elak barely registered the deafening hurrahs and shouts that echoed between the arena's walls. His eyes wandered to his master, who now moistened his throat with a sip of wine, and back to Tycho again, who cried and writhed in the centurions' grasp. The cheetah gripped his weapon tighter and took a step towards the men but the nearest lion glared back at him and partially unsheathed his gladius. Elak stopped, torn between the urge to unleash his growing rage and the realization of the futility of the act. Tycho was only a couple dozen paces away but the distance might as well have been to the other side of the great sea. The soldiers would slit the young man's throat long before he could reach them.

"Be calm. I will not let anyone harm you, I promise it!" he shouted to the otter. Tycho nodded, tears streaking down his eyes and wetting the cloth that gagged him. The centurions relaxed their grip somewhat, only applying enough force to keep the young man where he was. As Elak turned to walk towards his opponent he thought he saw one of the lions tilt his head in his direction. He dearly hoped that it was a silent wish for good luck.

If the senator had intended to charm the plebs by this cruel show then he had succeeded beyond question. Most of the men and women in the audience shouted encouragements but not a few took the opportunity to leer at the doomed lovers. One she-bear, drunker than the rest, called Elak by name and started making obscene gestures towards Tycho as the feline walked by her seat. The warrior gripped his sword tighter but forced himself to remain composed. He'd need all of his energy if he wanted to ever hug Tycho again.

Sulla had already reached the center of the arena. The huge bull stood immobile as a statue, both muscular arms resting on the head of his mace as if lost in deep thought. Behind him Murmillo had stopped struggling against the two guards who held him firmly to the wall. The antelope held his head high, but his hide was speckled with sweat and his chest heaved with each rapid breath he took.

"I am sorry our friendship has to come to an end in this way," Elak said and stopped a few steps from Sulla.

"Why blame ourselves for things over which we have no control?" the bull responded. But there was more than a hint of regret behind the stoic words.

"I would give all the gold in the world to gut this filth," Elak pointed towards the senator with his shield, "And I swear by the gods of the underworld that one day I will. But today I have to save Tycho."

"And I have to save Murmillo," Sulla acquiesced and lifted his mace as effortlessly as if it were a walking stick, "I will not hold back my blows."

"Good, I won't hold mine either," Elak bared his teeth and assumed a fighting stance with the supple grace of his species.

"Love, desire and death!" The pig boomed again, wine slopping over the rim of his cup as he toasted to the warriors, "Tonight two of these men will know each other's warm embrace, and the other two will know the cold touch of the grave. Let the combat begin."

Sulla charged forward, his mace raised high above his horns. Elak permitted the approach, standing firmly in place until he could conserve his energy no longer. He darted to the side, kicking up sand as the bull's weapon slammed into the earth where the cheetah once stood. Elak knew he had little time to take advantage of his position, and so he swiped at the bull's side with his blade. He felt no resistance as it parted the larger male's flesh. Sulla roared and threw his bare fist at his opponent's direction, making contact with his shoulder. Elak couldn't even scream as he was sent flying backwards, tumbling against the fiery earth. The audience roared in approval.

The cheetah took little time to stand again, knowing that, despite the pain, idleness was death. He checked himself quickly to assess the damage to his arm. His eyes widened in shock when he found that his shoulder guard had been dented by Sulla's blow. Elak never acknowledged fortune. He had spent most of his life in chains, forced to exert himself for the entertainment of the masses. Stale bread was his cooked duck and posca was his wine. Some days, he would return to the pits so bloodied and bruised that he would be unable to indulge in Tycho's body, his one true pleasure in this world. Every day, Elak felt like luck's enemy, but on this day, Sulla had missed the chance to dislocate his shoulder.

The bull took strides forward, covering his bleeding wound with one hand and dragging his mace behind him with the other. The cheetah blinked. Perhaps luck had nothing to do with it? Sulla had smashed his armored shoulder and Elak had cut a non-vital portion of Sulla's torso.

Frustrated, the Consul took another sip of his wine and waved at the centurions in the arena, who nodded back at him and unsheathed their broadswords, holding them to Tycho and Murmillo's throats. Elak's heart raced as Tycho squirmed, seemingly trying to beg with his captor through the cloth in his mouth. His muffled cries smothered the last lingering hopes that a display of bravado and skill would earn both men a generous reprieve. The audience didn't want scratches and dented armor, they wanted blood and guts.

Elak screamed in frustration. He unfastened his shoulder guard and threw it to the ground. Sulla took slow and careful strides towards him, as a hunter does to a wild boar, who is at his most dangerous when cornered. Elak let his shield and his bronze breastplate also fall to the sand. Even the best armor would afford little protection against Sulla's crushing blows. For this fight, speed was his greatest ally.

This time, Elak was the first to charge. The audience's screams were reminiscent of waves, crashing violently against a rocky shore. He ducked underneath Sulla's mace, feeling the gust of wind it created as it narrowly missed his skull. He then dove between the horned male's legs and swung his sword and one of his calves. It clanged against his hoof instead. Elak stood again, rushing towards Sulla with a flurry of blows that the larger male blocked with his more blunt weapon. The gleaming sword struck like a cobra's fang and first one, then a second blow broke through the bull's defenses and hit home, the metal slicing skin and flesh and sending fresh blood streaming down Sulla's arm and torso. With a deep bellow of rage the bull swung his huge mace again, and only his well-honed reflexes saved the cheetah from having his skull smashed like a clay pot.

Both fighters stepped back and circled each other warily. Elak wiped his brow with his left forearm and caught his breath. So far his opponent had gotten the worst of it. Sulla's dark eyes remained impassive but his naked hide was shiny with sweat and blood while froth dripped from his mouth. Yet Elak knew that triumph was far from assured. The nimble feline was in the position of a wasp fighting a giant. Multiple well-aimed stings would eventually drain the mighty bull's stamina but Sulla's mace only had to find its mark once for the cheetah to be crushed like an insect. Elak suddenly darted forward and ducked his head as his sword slashed at the bull's dangling testicles. Sulla hastily parried the castrating blow and the blade bit into his pelvis instead, causing another cry of pain to echo through the arena, much to the crowd's delight. It broke Elak's heart to inflict such drawn-out suffering on the warrior but he directed his anger at the capricious man in whose hands their lives rested.

Elak rolled to the side when the bull feigned another swing, trying to catch the cheetah off guard when he suddenly dropped his mace and thrusted his arms forward, aiming to grab the feline by the neck. Elak had no option but to slash at the advancing muscle, cutting deeply into Sulla's arm. The bull fell to the sand, clutching his gaping wound as Elak stood above him, ready to bring his sword down onto one of the bleeding male's thighs, rendering him incapable of fighting. Victory was close, yet the cheetah failed to notice the spiked mace that rested on the ground between his legs. In an act of desperation, Sulla grabbed the hilt of his weapon and slid it into Elak's left ankle, its spikes burying themselves deep into his furred flesh.

Tycho shrieked as Elak fell to the earth with a thud, bleeding profusely from his newly mangled foot. The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Waves of molten anguish irradiated from his leg. He groaned and looked at his bloodied foot through watery eyes. He couldn't see much, and perhaps that was best, for it would save him from fainting.

He suddenly felt cool as Sulla's shadow was cast down onto him. The bull looked to the Consul in the stands. He had won. He had bested Elak in combat and incapacitated him. He could hold his lover close for at least one more night.

Elak writhed in the sand, the pain in his leg was nothing compared to the pain of his aching heart. What a useless life he lived. He rolled over, trying to catch a glimpse of Tycho. He still couldn't see much, but his hand brushed against something metallic. The ringing in his ears faded and his deprived senses began to return to him. Scenes from his life flooded his mind: His home in the desert, his brother, his fight against invaders, his enslavement, Tycho. He swallowed a knot in his throat. Tycho was his most precious treasure on this earth. His nostrils flared with anger. He deserved so much more than to be fed to worms. In one swift motion, he grabbed the hilt of his sword and thrusted it upwards.

The bronze blade surged forward just as the bull raised his mace to deliver death and its sharp tip plunged itself into Sulla's unprotected belly. The gladiator froze mid-strike, looked at the sword buried halfway into his guts and let out a choked gasp. Blood began to drip down the blade and Elak twisted it with a jerking motion before letting go of the hilt. Sulla stumbled backward, his face more confused than pained. The heavy mace slipped from his fingers and with a trembling hand he grasped the hilt of the sword and pulled it from his midriff. Blood gushed forth from the open wound and the huge bovine staggered and then collapsed like a fallen oak.

A stunned silence invaded the arena as the public stared at the bloodied warriors, and for a handful of seconds Sulla's gurgling, heaving breaths could be heard throughout the coliseum. Then the pig raised his hands and proclaimed powerfully "We have a champion. Today Elak the swift has conquered Sulla the mighty!" and an immense roar of delirious joy drowned out the dying man's cries. Elak pulled himself to his feet, his pain dulled by the stupor and shock. A glance behind him showed that the centurions had let go of Tycho but the cheetah did not wait for his lover to join him and instead raced to the spot where Sulla had fallen.

The great bull lay on his back, his arms flung wide and his eyes staring at the cloudless sky. Dark blood from the wound streaked his bare flanks and pooled on the sand beneath his body.

"I am so sorry..." the cheetah blurted as he kneeled by his friend.

"I thought the battle won and lowered my guard... The gods have punished me for my foolishness," the bull sighed, indifferent to the raucous shouts of the thousands who celebrated his demise.

Elak tore off his loincloth and pressed it to the wound, grinding his teeth as he saw the white fabric immediately turn red. He wanted to reassure Sulla, tell him that he would survive, but the wound was deep, and he knew that even the best surgeon could do no more than prolong the bull's agony.

"Sulla!" a cry of despair rang from behind Elak. A heartbeat later a hand shoved him out of the way and an antlered form threw itself at the wounded man's side. "Sulla, my love... you're bleeding," Murmillo took the big bull's head in his hands and sobbed.

Sweat pearled on Sulla's face. "I swore to protect you, and I failed..." he said raggedly. The antelope shook his head as if to say no and gently kissed his brow.

"Elak!"

The cheetah turned just in time to catch Tycho as he ran into his arms and hugged him with a strength he never knew the small otter had. "I thought you were going to die," he said and buried his face into the bigger male's chest to the applause and whistles of the crowd. Elak returned his kisses but winced when Tycho's weight rekindled the dagger-like pain to his injured foot.

"You are hurt," the otter said, horrified.

"It is nothing," the gladiator lied. A soft moan turned his attention back to the two horned lovers. Murmillo tenderly nursed Sulla's head in his lap, only stopping to kiss his drying lips and wipe the sweat from his brow. The bleeding had subsided but crimson still oozed from the soaked cloth that covered the wound. Elak wavered, filled with remorse and torn between the urge to comfort the two men and reluctance to interrupt their last moments together. Then from the corner of his eye he glimpsed the soldiers as they walked with slow, determined steps in their direction. Quickly he kneeled at Sulla's side, as if to shield the fallen man with his naked body.

"All is not lost," he said, trying to conquer the tears that choked his throat, "By tradition the consul must grant me a favor, and he will not dare deny it in front of so many. I will ask him to spare Murmillo. I will look after him, love him and protect his body and honor, I swear it by my soul."

As he spoke Murmillo lifted his head. Elak recoiled but there was no hatred or anger in the antelope's eyes, only sadness and resolution.

"I do not wish to outlive Sulla," he said in a tone that brooked no doubts.

"Murmillo... please, don't..." Tycho pleaded as he sat next to him. The antelope turned his eyes towards his friend and the otter dropped his head, unable to meet his gaze.

"Sulla and I walked together in life, and we will journey together to the underworld," Murmillo said and caressed the bull's chiseled features with his delicate hand. "If such is your choice, then we shall embrace again in the eternal fields," Sulla whispered with a faint smile.

Elak opened his mouth to speak but could find no words that would lessen the pain of the doomed lovers. As he pressed the cloth to staunch the bleeding he realized that his left hand rested on Sulla's exposed sheath, and instead of withdrawing his fingers he let them linger for a moment. Through the loose skin he could feel the long rod of his friend's penis, warm and firm to the touch, and the knowledge that the proud, life-giving organ would rise no more filled him with a fresh surge of sadness.

"Worry not about my manhood, it has seen plenty of use," the bull chuckled and then coughed, his voice growing fainter.

A shadow came over the small group as the centurions stopped just a couple of paces from them, their polished armor and weapons clinking in the warm breeze. In his tapestried lodge the consul clapped his hands to command attention. "The battle was closely fought, and the warriors noble," he trumpeted, "But the sentence is irrevocable. For his failure Sulla shall see his lover and himself put to death. May this sacrifice be pleasing to the gods of love and war!"

Murmillo ignored his executioners' presence, even as they unraveled their rope. There was a silence among the party of gladiators, a heavy reluctance to acknowledge was was to come in but a few moments. The antelope stared into his lover's fading eyes, imprinting his image into Sulla's mind. His focus was broken when one of the centurion's hands fell onto his shoulder.

Elak thought it a pity that their final moments could not last forever.

As Murmillo rose from the ground, Tycho whimpered and buried his face into Elak's chest. The cheetah was burdened to watch. The antelope stood above Sulla, with his eyes closed and his hands resting calmly at his sides. The thundering roar of the spectators nearly drowned out the sound of his singing. Elak stroked Tycho's back. As the centurions guided their noose down Murmillo's antlers and past his head, he sang of the feats of a great warrior and his beloved from ages past, who sailed the endless seas with one another, after escaping a raid on their kingdom with their lives. Sulla smiled and mumbled along with his lover's voice. The song was popular amongst fighters in the pit, though it was considered crass and uneducated by most. Elak didn't care. He shed a tear as the notes fluttered from Murmillo's mouth. It was perhaps the most beautiful singing he had ever heard, which made it all the more tragic when it ended abruptly with a gag. The noose had been tightened. Murmillo's eyes widened and his hands moved to feel the rope around his neck. The centurions responded by pulling tighter.

A wet click of the tongue was the only sound the antelope could make as he suddenly found himself unable to breathe. He gritted his teeth and his body jerked from left to right as his hands acted on instinct, trying desperately to loosen death's grip. Elak's eyes traced down the curves of his body as he danced, watching as he stamped his hoof down into the sand again and again. His lean testicles twitched ever so slightly with each kick, still tightly bound by the small sac that kept them close to his pelvis. The antelope looked down at Sulla, whose glazed eyes were now nearly devoid of life. He reached one hand out to him, and with a heavy breath Sulla lifted his own to meet it. Murmillo's ear twitched and tears began to pool in his reddening eyes. It was then that Elak noticed a tinge of pink that contrasted with the rest of the antelope's waistline. As his life was drained from him, his penis blossomed.

The tapered length slowly sprang forth from its sheath, its slick form graced by the light of the sun. With each passing second it throbbed, faster and faster with the beating of his heart. The pointing, jeers and murmurs from the audience likely did not ease Murmillo in his final moments, but Elak was sure then, the only thing that mattered to him was Sulla.

The bull's body gave in to weakness and his arm fell to the sand with a thud. With his final breaths, he looked up and down Murmillo's form and uttered but a few words: "All is well, my flower... You may rest..."

Murmillo clenched his eyes shut and raised his head toward the sky. He stiffened, arching backward as he sent forth his thin essence in two quick shots. The white strings painted Sulla's chest and abs, which rose and fell with his breath, now slower than ever before.

The antelope shuddered and then grew slack as his orgasm subsided. His legs stopped kicking and his hands let go of the rope and fell limp at his sides. Despite this the centurions did not relax their deadly grip. Their amber eyes betrayed neither cruelty nor pity as they kept strangling the slave until his antlered head slumped onto his shoulder, foam dripping from the corner of his delicate lips.

A single tear rolled down Sulla's cheek and lost itself in the burning sand. Murmillo was already beyond feeling pleasure or pain when his exposed manhood twitched one last time and a few droplets of watery seed sputtered from its tip in a faint echo of his climax. Then the lithe slave stood still, his body swaying almost imperceptibly from the taut rope that kept him upright. The soldiers exchanged a look and a moment later Murmillo collapsed to the ground like a lifeless doll.

The torrent of applause and cheers that followed the antelope's death almost drowned out the heaving sobs of Tycho in Elak's ears. The cheetah patted his friend on the back but let go of him and darted forward when one of the centurions gripped the rope between his hands and took a step towards Sulla.

"Don't you even think about it," Elak bared his fangs.

The larger feline stopped, his expression more surprised than it was angry.

"Don't be foolish, slave. This man is in pain and I will shorten his suffering."

"He lived a warrior's life and deserves a warrior's death."

The centurion looked thoughtfully at the bloodied, naked cheetah for a moment and then unsheathed his gladius and tossed him the blade.

"I hope you can forgive me for what I am about to do," Elak said as he kneeled by Sulla.

"You acted out of love, just as I did," the bull sighed, so faintly that Elak had to lean close to his mouth to make out his words, "Now please hurry, I do not want to keep Murmillo waiting."

He groaned and let his head fall back on the sand, his gaze turned towards Murmillo and his throat offered to Elak's sword. The antelope lay crumpled where he had fallen, his spent member half-retracted into its sheath. By some strange turn of fate his head lay pointed in his lover's direction, and Elak could have sworn that his eyes were looking back at Sulla. "May you two be reunited forever," the cheetah whispered and plunged the blade cleanly into the bull's thick neck. Sulla gasped, blood poured out of his mouth and then life flickered out of his eyes. Elak stood up with Tycho's help, suddenly feeling very drained, and he uttered no word when the lion took back his sword and wiped it clean on Sulla's muscular thigh.

"The gods have decided to smile upon the sharp-toothed fighter today," the consul proclaimed, "Fate is a fickle mistress, but until the next combat these two lovers will continue to indulge in each other's company and flesh."

There was more applause, but it was clear that the crowd's attention was already slipping. With no more death or lascivious displays to look forward to, the men and women began to chatter and order refreshments from the many vendors that walked up and down the rows of seats. After ensuring that Elak could stand on his own Tycho approached the fallen Murmillo and with a trembling hand closed his eyelids and wiped the foam from his lips before planting a last kiss on the corner of his mouth. "I wish I could do more for you," he managed in a tear-choked voice. Already from one of the gates a group of slaves came to dispose of the two bodies and make room for the next show, and seeing them the second centurion hurried to brush Tycho aside and snatch the golden rings from Murmillo's and Sulla's ears. Elak's fist clenched as his heart filled with anger.

"Master! I have fought for you and entertained you. I now request the favor that is rightfully mine!" He suddenly shouted in the direction of the luxurious box where the pig sat.

The consul started and almost spilled his wine. A murmur issued from the spectators as thousands of eyes turned towards the couple in the center of the arena. Tycho whimpered and gave his lover a "Are you mad?" look but instead of stepping away he drew closer to the cheetah and hugged him.

"Oh, oh, very demanding. But it is true, you have earned a favor. So what will it be? A new sword? Another slave boy? Or maybe a night with a girl?"

"I wish for Sulla and Murmillo to be buried together, and that they be given a proper funeral instead of being thrown to the carrion-birds."

The consul blinked in surprise, but then an amused smile crossed his porcine face.

"How generous! Who would have thought that a mere slave could be so noble? But after all they say the servant takes after the master..." He stopped to drain his cup. "So be it! Tomorrow a ceremony will celebrate the tragic memory of the vanquished. And to ensure their story isn't forgotten I will commission the best craftsmen to sculpt a statue in their likeness. May the heroes of old welcome Sulla the brave amongst their ranks and may they take Murmillo the beautiful as their cupbearer!"

Tycho lent Elak a shoulder as the two males limped back to the tunnels whence they had come. The unexpected twist at the end of the spectacle had rekindled the public's interest, and the chatter of the crowd filled their ears.

"How do you think these two lovebirds will pay the ferryman's toll?" the cheetah heard a wolf saying.

"Maybe Charon will take payment in ass instead of coin? I sure would have paid good money to bed that antelope," his next-seat neighbor giggled drunkenly.

"They deserve to burn." Elak mumbled.

Tycho glanced up at him, but did not grace him with a response.

"They treat life as a game, and when witnessing death's work, they cheer." The cheetah stumbled forward, but was saved from falling by Tycho's dedicated support. Tears formed in his eyes. "They deserve to burn."

Tycho let out a quivering sigh. "You can't blame them, they know no other way."

"That does not justify any of this. Had it been any of them in the arena... Or the consul-" Elak stopped himself when he saw that his lover was also crying. He leaned over and nuzzled the smaller male's cheek.

"I'm sorry... I had forgotten that you share my pain."

"It's fine." Tycho sniffed. "You are right to be frustrated. Murmillo was a good man. Sulla was a good man. It is thanks to your kindness that they shall be remembered, if not forever then at least for generations to come... If the songs of old are to be believed, its acts of kindness like that - not vengeance - that inspires change."

The cheetah embraced him. "I thought I would never hear your wisdom again."

Tycho sobbed. "I thought I was going to lose you, too."

Time seemed to slow as they held one another in the delicately carved tunnel. No longer was Elak able to hear the bellowing chorus of voices past the gates. The guards that stood at their post just feet away from them vanished. The slaves that scurried past them to clean the bloodied sands morphed into simple shapes and colors. The pain in his leg subsided. Nothing mattered more to the cheetah in that moment than the tender embrace of his lover. His heart suddenly burned with a yearning to confirm that Tycho was still alive. He should see him, and he could feel him pressed to his own body, but he needed more. His hands brushed the fur on his back. His nose inhaled his scent: Pomegranate and sea salt.

He needed more.

Tycho's breaths quickened as Elak brought his maw down to the otter's neck, sniffing it. The small male yipped and tilted his head to the side, instinctually denying the carnivore access to that most sensitive part of his body. Eventually, Tycho submitted and tilted his head to the other side, giving the gladiator full access to his furred flesh. Elak licked the spot once, then twice, then he found himself dragging his rough tongue up the otter's neck and to his face, where it buried itself into the assistant's maw.

As they kissed, it became quickly apparent to the cheetah that, like Tycho, he was exposed. The cloth he had used earlier to shroud Sulla's wound had freed his genitals, and now, his member, emerging from his sheath, pressed against Tycho's belly.

The otter did not protest as he was turned around and thrown against the tunnel wall. He even bent down, placing his hands against the stone to keep him steady. He raised his tail, inviting Elak to take him as he normally did. He did not expect what he felt next.

Suddenly his twitching cock was submerged into a warm and wet bliss that it had not felt in some time. Shocked, he looked down to see that Elak had crawled underneath him and was nursing his erection. The cheetah gently clamped his teeth down around Tycho's penis and pulled his maw back, stretching the otter's foreskin around his glans as he tugged, before releasing it and enveloping his manhood once more. The otter's groan was all Elak needed to know he should continue.

With one hand, he cupped the male's little balls and with the other, he began to pleasure himself. Tycho's member pulsed in his mouth as his heart fluttered. The young one climaxed first. Elak could feel the otter's testicles contract as thin ropes of watery seed filled the larger carnivore's mouth. Tycho gasped as he shot, and Elak followed suit with his own intense orgasm. Dazzling arches of his ejaculate caught the light of the sun before they hit the ground and pooled in the sand-strewn earth between his legs. When his eruption subsided, he pulled the young male above him down to his level, kissing him and embracing him tightly.

"I am not usually given such treatment." Tycho whispered.

"Today my love, we celebrate life." The cheetah replied as he caressed the otter's back. Elak noticed one of the guards nearby shift awkwardly in his place. Another gladiator walked by, but only gave the two a passing glance as he vanished into the blazing light of the gateway. "And tomorrow, we continue the fight to preserve it."