Oil Merchants
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Delivery Day
Demetrius and his younger brother Alexios arrive at the ludus gates just after dawn, their cart loaded with clay amphorae of the finest olive oil in Rome. They’ve been supplying this gladiator school for three years, ever since their father died and left them the family business. The guards wave them through without inspection, recognising the brothers and their weekly delivery.
The ludus courtyard is already alive with activity. Fifty naked gladiators move through morning drills, their bodies glistening with yesterday’s oil, their muscular forms on full display. Demetrius has seen this sight dozens of times, but it never fails to affect him. The raw masculine power, the casual nudity, the thick body hair and substantial cocks swinging freely as warriors practice their deadly art.
Beside him, Alexios is equally transfixed. At twenty-two, he’s eight years younger than Demetrius, and far less successful at hiding his appreciation for the view. His eyes follow a particular gladiator, a massive Germanic warrior whose blond beard and pale skin stand out among the darker Romans and Greeks.
“Stop staring,” Demetrius mutters, though he’s guilty of the same. His own gaze keeps returning to a scarred veteran with black hair covering his chest in a thick pattern that trails down to dense pubic growth. The man’s cock is substantial even in its relaxed state, and Demetrius feels his own body responding despite himself.
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