The Gladiator and his Admirer

Sweat ran down Fugo’s body due to the sun’s blazing heat and having to move around so much. Fugo was supposed to execute three prisoners. Before he could kill the last one, he fought back. Unlike the other two, this guy was muscular, and he managed to disarm Fugo with his chains.

Fugo dodged his swings. He expected him to be slow. The prisoner managed to land a blow to Fugo’s face, hitting him in the jaw. One of his teeth fell out, and he spat out blood. No way he was losing to a prisoner. The thought of it made Fugo’s blood boil. He screamed, charged toward the prisoner, and beat him to a pulp.

Emperor Dio and one of his sons, Giorno, watched as Fugo pulverized the last prisoner to death.

“I wasn’t expecting one of the prisoners to fight back,” Dio commented.

“Wow, who is this guy?” Giorno asked.

Dio didn’t care about the gladiators, but this one he knew. He was once a wealthy citizen, but his rage got the best of him, and he ended up murdering someone. “That is Pannacotta Fugo.”

“He’s good-looking. Could I speak to him?”

“Of course, but hurry up. We should head home soon.”

-

Fugo was in the barracks with his bed, a table, and a bucket of water to keep him company. He washed his face, looked at his helm on the table, and kicked the bucket, water spilling onto the stone floors. He should’ve worn his helmet.

“Is something wrong?” a voice called to him.

The golden blond looked at the door where the voice was. It was Giorno, but why was he here?

“Sorry,” Fugo said, “I should’ve worn my helmet. I wasn’t expecting the last prisoner to fight back. I’ll be more alert next time should I execute another prisoner.”

Giorno got closer to him, hand on his cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“I never had my teeth knocked out before. It’s painful. When I rest my tongue on the spot, the pain is even worse.”

“I’m so sorry.” Giorno took his hand off and looked at Fugo’s body. His body was slightly muscular, but the others Giorno passed on the way to his room were bulkier than him. “You’re not built like the other gladiators.”

“I haven’t been one for long.”

“Other than the most recent fight, have you done any other fights?”

“No, but I’ve been training with Carne. He’s a big fat gladiator. You’ve probably seen him.”

A shiver went down Giorno’s spine. “That guy? And you survived your training with him? Has that guy killed anyone while training?”

“No, Carne has to refrain himself.”

“He knows restraint?”

Fugo giggled and sat down on his bed. Giorno sat with him. “I was scared of him when I got here. He kicked my ass and shaped me up. Oh, and there was this one time—”

As Fugo chatted away, Giorno looked at his face, admiring his purple eyes. They were gorgeous, as was his face. Then he noticed the gladiator’s eyes widening. Whatever he saw caused him to stop talking, which made Giorno turn around, facing the large man in the doorway. It was Carne.

“Giorno, your father wants you home,” Carne said.

“Hold on,” the blond said. “I’ll see if I can get my father to take you home with me.”

Giorno darted out of the room.

“He likes you,” Carne commented before leaving Fugo’s room.

-

It took Giorno a few minutes to convince his father to take Fugo to their home. He sat with Giorno on his bed. Everything, the marble, the columns, and the paintings, reminded Fugo of what he once had and caused him to sigh.

“Is something wrong?” the blond asked.

“Nothing is wrong. I’m just a little tired,” Fugo replied.

“Sorry for dragging you here, but I felt you deserve to spend your time resting somewhere nicer.”

Giorno’s hand got closer to Fugo’s. Carne was right. At least it was Giorno who liked him and not his brothers. Donatello was decent-looking, but he heard rumors about him. Rikiel’s appearance wasn’t bad either, but his health was declining. Ungalo was just flat-out hideous. And as for Giorno, he was gorgeous, and he seemed gentle.

Giorno’s fingers intertwined with Fugo’s, breaking the gladiator from his thoughts. “Is it alright if I kiss you?”

Why did he ask permission? “Yes, sir,” Fugo answered without fear. Though, he wished the praetorian guard near the entrance would go away. Dio probably ordered him there due to Fugo’s past.

Then Giorno’s lips got closer to his, and the both of them closed their eyes, their lips locked. Fugo’s heart beat rapidly. Giorno wrapped his arms around his, and Fugo would return the hug, but the guard wouldn’t like that. The blond stopped hugging and withdrew from the kiss.

“I wish I could be with you,” Giorno said. His face had a frown.

Dio had probably arranged a marriage. If Fugo had to guess, Giorno would be marrying Trish Una.

“Maybe in another life,” Fugo replied, trying to comfort him.

The blond lay on the left side of the bed, facing Fugo. “Lay with me.”

Fugo lay on the bed with him, and this time he hugged him, not caring what the guard thought. The blond returned the hug, cuddling with him in bed. The guard did nothing but watch.

“Tell father I want Fugo to stay with me for the night,” Giorno ordered the guard.

“Yes, sir!” The guard looked at somebody they couldn’t see. “You there, servant, tell Dio that Giorno wants Fugo to stay for the night.”

“Right away,” said the servant.

“Maybe once the servant returns,” Giorno said, “he’ll play some music. Would you like that?”

Fugo smiled and nodded.

The servant returned and played his lyre. The sky had not completely darkened, yet the music lulled the gladiator to sleep. He fell asleep in Giorno’s arms.