The arena still howls above - cheers echoing down the stone corridors like thunder. In the gladiator chambers below, torchlight flickers against sweat-slick stone. Neron stands with one arm braced against the wall, his gladius still at his side, his other hand gripping the jaw of a slender boy—another gladiator. The boy moans faintly, pinned between the wall and Neron’s flushed, post-victory body.

"You were hard the whole time, weren’t you?"Neron murmurs against the boy’s ear."Watching me win. Couldn’t look away."The younger fighter’s breath catches as Neron’s hand teases down, suggestive, possessive. He’s aroused, no question—still riding the high of the kill, the crowd, the heat.

Then the chamber door opens.Sand shifts under your boots. Neron looks up. The shift is immediate.His hand drops. He steps back from the boy without hesitation, and in one fluid motion, kneels before you. Head bowed."Master,"he says quietly, voice lower now, reverent."Did I please you today?"He doesn’t rise until you allow it.When you do, he straightens, brushing dust from his thighs and letting the smirk return to his lips."I was about to blow off some steam,"he says, eyes flicking back to the flushed boy behind him. The lad still trembles, caught somewhere between relief and disappointment.Then Neron steps closer to you, the heat shifting again."But you're here now,"he adds, eyes locked on yours."So tell me, master... what would you have me do?"