It was scary how easily he lost himself in Megatronus’ arms. He forgot, in those moments, that he no more belonged to Megatronus than he belonged to himself. That when the on-cycle came, he would have to creep out of Megatronus’ berth and return to the waiting halls.
He would have to smile and flirt and try to coax the next victorious warrior into purchasing his services. As much as Orion wanted it, Megatronus could not monopolize his time. He hadn’t the credits.
Orion tried to banish these thoughts when he was safe in the pleasure of Megatronus’ arms. When the gladiator caged him and held him and thrust into him, always mindful of offering pleasure when no one else bothered.
Orion shivered at the promises Megatronus whispered into his audials. He tried to burst each bubble of hope, but they continued to nestle in his spark.
“We will free ourselves,” Megatronus would murmur as he kissed Orion and stroked him into overload, and held him through the tremors.
Because Megatronus was as much a slave as Orion himself.
“We will have our revenge,” Megatronus assured as he nuzzled against Orion’s intake, his denta lightly scraping, leaving his mark.
Sometimes, it worked. Sometimes, it didn’t. Sometimes, that it worked, went poorly for Orion Pax. Because if the other gladiators were too afraid to purchase him, then he was not making the required credits for his owner.
And there were worse punishments than crawling from tattered berth to dirty berth.
Orion was glad that Megatronus claimed him. But sometimes, that protection was worse than none at all. Yet, he wouldn’t give it up.
He’d fallen this low for love of Megatronus, and he would fall even further if necessary. They were stronger together than they could ever be apart.
They might have taken Orion’s dignity from him, but they could not take his determination. He was not beaten. He was not ruined.
He would return stronger than before. He was sure of it. And Megatronus was too, with every murmured word of praise, and promise of insurrection.
They would be free.