Fic: Unexpected Benefits

Title: Unexpected Benefits
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Oursenplus/Female OC, implied Oursenplus/Anglaigus
Word count: 2681
Summary: This was one side-effect of having been made a gladiator Oursenplus hadn't considered
Author's notes: Written for the

seasonofkink 2020 Kink Bingo, using the prompt "Prostitution/Sex work".
And it's het! The first het fic I've ever published! I've drawn het before, but never really ventured into het fic.
Set after the events of the animated Asterix movie "La Maison des Dieux"/"Mansion of the Gods".
Beta-read by

paulamcg. :) I'm also thankful for the feedback from my friend J and my boss (again, the latter on the non-smutty parts!)
Can also be found on AO3 here

Oursenplus winced as he for the umpteenth time this afternoon was thrown to the ground. Being a gladiator was hard. Hard in a way he hadn't experienced it since his days as a recruit, and those were 20 years ago. And back then he'd been 20 years younger and better able to recover from day to day.
He was not 18 any more, and his joints reminded him of that on a daily basis. Even though he'd kept in shape, as a centurion he wasn't supposed to carry stakes for the palisade or things like that.

He got to his feet again and tried to straighten up.
"You need to fall softer!" the tiny African gladiator told him. "Relax and it'll not only be less hard for you, it'll look more impressive for the audience!"
He nodded and winced. A gladiator. He'd gladly have accepted a flogging, no, make that two, instead of being made a gladiator. A flogging would have been humiliating as well, but at least it wouldn't have been in front of every citizen of Rome who could buy a ticket for the show. Weekly.
At least unlike Anglaigus or Senator Prospectus he was more used to physical hardships, and hopefully Caesar's anger would cool off soon, so that he could return to his garrison in Armorica. Even regular beatings by the Gauls seemed preferable to this, spectator-less as it was.
"All right, let's try again..." the African said.

Back in his cell a letter was waiting for him. He had no idea who could have sent it – not anyone in his family, that much was certain. His father had been to "visit" him, not long after he'd been brought back to Rome. Their conversation had been rather one-sided, a long berating by his father, who told him what a disgrace and disappointment he was in the eyes of not just his father, but of any relative, living or dead. How his mother, with her weak constitution, had taken to her cubiculum for two weeks after the news had reached them. How they wished he'd died somewhere in Gaul, because a son who died honourably in battle against the barbarians was not something every family had, and it was always a good topic for conversation when you met someone in the street.

"Ave centurion!" the letter read, in clumsy handwriting. He read on.
"We, legionnaries from Legio VI Hafnia X Cohort V century, sends our greetings. We have discussed this matter in grate detail and it turned out that the father of legionary ~~Cornucopiodes~~ Cornucopoides has a uncle's father in law's nephew. That is a senator and then we thought we might as well try and get him to speak your case in The Senate. Or what say you? 'Cause we're also sending a dellegation to try and speak to Caesar about our not at all unreasonble ideas about having our families relocated to Armorica, even tho the Gauls knocked over the houses. Please stay in good health. Many regards from Legio VI Hafnia X Cohort V Century, Aquarium, Armorica."

He lowered the letter. It felt strangely heart-warming to receive this message, even though the spelling and grammar were atrocious, and even though these very same men had only a couple of months previously given him trouble (and headache) with their demands over everything from housing to wages to seeing their families. The idea of a group of them trying to get close to Caesar with their (undoubtedly long) list of demands worried him, though. His men weren't exactly the strongest intellects in the Roman Army, and had they even considered the law that forbade armed forces to enter the city Rome itself?

**

A couple of days later he'd only just finished scraping the oil and sand off himself, after a fight, when the guard rattled on the door with his stick.
"You've gots a visitor, you," the guard said. A visitor? Who could that be? Not any more family visits, hopefully.
It was not a family member. It was a woman, youngish, beautiful, obviously rich. Her hair was in a fancy up-do, her make-up discreet and her sheer dress of expensive fabrics didn't do much to obscure her figure.
"Enjoy yourself," the guard winked annoyingly as he closed the door again.
"Hello," he tried. "Do we know each other?" Unlikely as it was, it could be a distant cousin, but why would a distant cousin come visit him, and dressed like that?
The woman smiled coyly. "Hello. No, we haven't met before, but I've seen you before." She looked around in the tiny cell.
Oh, right. He indicated towards the bed, which was made of bricks built into the wall and with a straw mattress on top of it.
"I'm afraid I don't have much furniture, but at least you can sit here," he said.
She sat down, eyeing him with unbridled curiosity. "Oh, so polite," she purred. "I've never met a gladiator that polite before."
"Well, miss...? Madam...? I, er, used to be a centurion." He wiped his hands on his loincloth.
"You can call me Thisbe," she smiled and indicated a seat next to her. "And pray tell, how does a centurion end up a gladiator?"
"I...I'd rather not," he said, sitting down next to her. She laughed.
"Well, that isn't what I'm here for, anyway," she smiled and cocked her head. "I just couldn't help noticing you. You've caught my eyes from the beginning."
"Why, thank you. Although, I really don't think my performance so far has been anything remarkable," he replied. She laughed again.
"Oh, I'm sure your...performance...will be more than adequate," she said, putting a hand on his arm. He looked closer at her. The black Kohl around her eyes, much more subdued than what was worn by whores, accentuated her eyes. Gold was glinting from her ears and around her neck. His gaze moved further down, towards her pert breasts. The fabric seemed to reveal more than it covered, especially after her palla had slipped off. He swallowed when he noticed how her nipples were erect and visible through the dress. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, and her breathing seemed a little laboured.
Oh. This was why she was visiting him. She was one of those women seeking out gladiators for sex. Just when he thought he couldn't sink lower, a senator's wife showed up, wanting to use him for her sexual gratification.
It was strangely thrilling, though. He'd never get so close to a woman of that rank again, if/when he was returned to Armorica and his men. Might as well just see where this went.

She took one of his hands and made him grab one of her breasts. It felt warm and soft, even through the fabric.
"So...so you've also fought barbarians?" she moaned. "Wild and undisciplined hordes? Who go to war naked?"
He nodded, gently kneading the breast. "Yes, I have." No need to tell her that some of those hordes used to use him and his men as punching bags, and that they, thankfully, kept their clothes on. "Very wild and uncivilised people."
She swiftly moved on top of him, straddling him. "That is incredibly brave," she moaned, resting her arms on his shoulders.
He grabbed both of her breasts, rubbing the nipples through the fabric, noticing how that yielded more moans from her. "I was just doing my duty, I guess."
"Mmmh," she moaned, pushing her breasts closer to him. Taking that as incentive to proceed, he pulled the fabric aside and cupped her naked breasts, lightly pinching her nipples in the process. She moaned louder and rocked back and forth in his lap.
"More," she moaned. "Come on, show me what you've got."
He let go of her breasts and ran his hands up her legs, under the dress, across soft, smooth thighs. Reaching her nice, ample buttocks he squeezed them and pulled her closer.
"Some manners might have become rather...lost...so far from the civilization," he muttered.
The shuddering moan and her soft lips on his neck told him everything he needed to know. It was literally what she was after. He felt himself growing hard. The prospect of fucking her silly, of giving her what her (undoubtedly fat, older) husband couldn't, was a turn-on, he realised. Perhaps her husband had even pulled some strings in this whole debacle that had led to him being stuck in a tiny, dark cell underneath the Circus Maximus. And even if her husband hadn't, the image of her returning home to her lavish domus with a disgraced centurion's sperm running down her thighs was really not bad.
He closed his eyes for a moment, savouring the feeling of her lips sucking and kissing their way across his neck and shoulders. Then he leant forward and ran his tongue across one of her lovely, hard nipples while feeling his way towards her cunt. Sliding his fingers between her folds, he marvelled at how wet she already was. She must have been so since viewing the fight, he realised. She had sat there in the stands, getting gradually more aroused by the minute. Because of him, which still felt weird, so he shoved that thought aside.
Instead, he pushed a couple of fingers inside of her while sucking a bit harder on the nipple. She reacted immediately by clenching around the fingers, throwing her head back and emitting a small scream. If she felt that nice around his fingers, he looked forward to feeling her clench around his cock.
He slid his fingers in and out of her, while rubbing his thumb across that little nub located where the folds met. He'd yet to meet a woman who didn't appreciate attention to that part of her body, and she was no exception. She moaned louder and rocked her hips.
"Yes, yes, yes," she whimpered. And "more, more, please more."
"That is up to me to decide," he panted. "I don't deal well with commands, you see."
He was pushing it, possibly. Women of this particular social class were just as used to being in command as he was. But the way her breathing quickened and her eyes glazed over seemed to indicate that she didn't mind this.
"Use me," she breathed. "Go ahead, fuck me, make me take it."
He removed his fingers, amidst her whimpers. "Fine, first remove your clothes."
She got to her feet, slightly unsteady, and let the exquisite dress fall to the floor. He eyed her from head to toe. She really was a nice sight, breasts of a nice size, pert and round, pale, soft skin, her hips full and broad.
Getting to his feet himself, he undid the belt holding the loincloth in place and removed both items. He noticed she took a small step back when she realised exactly how much taller than her he was.
"You've got hips well-suited for fucking," he remarked. "But then, it's not exactly the first time you're doing this, is it?"
Of course it wasn't. It had been obvious from the moment she stepped inside the cell.
"Place yourself facing the wall," he commanded. He wasn't anywhere near actually barking orders at her, but she obeyed delightfully quickly. "And then brace your hands on the wall."
Another quick reaction. Getting up behind her, so close she could feel his cock brush against her ass, he leant close to her ear.
"You're by far the most obedient, little thing I've ever had the pleasure of ordering about," he muttered. "Also the prettiest." He cupped one of her breasts, once again pinching the nipple and watching her squirm and pant.
"Now spread your legs." Again she obeyed. But as he took a step back, she turned her head to glance over her shoulder.
"Ahahah," he tutted, turning her head back so she faced the wall. "I don't remember giving you a permission to move your head."

This was fun. She was shivering, panting, needing his cock, and he hadn't exaggerated when calling her obedient. Being in command wouldn't be nearly as much a chore if the legionaries were as willing to obey.
Stepping back up against her backside, he reached around and slid his fingers between the wet folds of her cunt, his cock pressed between her buttocks.
"You want this?" he asked. She nodded. "That's not an answer, you know. I can't hear a nod."
"Y-yes," she moaned.
"Close. But that kind of forgetfulness would warrant a hit of my vitis, under normal circumstances." He rubbed that little nub again.
She shivered and bit her lower lip, suppressing a moan. Oh, so she wasn't opposed to the thought of physical punishment? Civilians truly were odd creatures, but whatever rocked their boat.
"Y-yes, centurion," she breathed.
"Louder. That was just a whisper."
"Yes, centurion," she got out, loud and clear, while arching her back and pressing closer up against his cock. Oh, but who'd thought it was that satisfying having some rich little lady obey you? To feel how wet she'd become, just because you ordered her around a little? His cock throbbed, wanting to partake in the goings-on.
Shifting a bit, he grabbed his cock and slid it between her legs, against her wet, waiting hole, between the soft folds. He could feel how her cunt clenched a bit on its own volition from the pressure. She was ready, only her pride kept her from begging more than what she'd already done. He could only hope now that he wouldn't come too soon, before the fun had even begun.

Withdrawing slightly, he turned her around, lifted her up and positioned her legs around his hips. Reaching down, he guided his cock towards her hole and pushed in. She was so warm, wet, ready, he had to take a few deep breaths to steady himself. Shifting slightly to a better grip, he began fucking her in earnest. Her head lolled back against the wall and she moaned and whimpered at each thrust. Her finely manicured nails dug into his shoulders.
Everything blurred together, her whimpers, his laboured breathing, the feel of her buttocks beneath his hands, the wonderful wet heat of her cunt around his cock.
Her moans intensified, growing to small screams as she came, her cunt clenching rhythmically around him, milking him, making him come as well. With a groan he emptied himself in her. She was definitely better than his own hand, which had been the closest, regular partner for most of his time in Armorica – small, somewhat annoying, architects not withstanding.

They stood there for a little while, her hanging onto him, her back against the wall, him with his softening cock still inside of her.
Slowly he pulled out of her and put her legs down. He looked at her face. Her Kohl had been smeared out and her hair was messy, but her cheeks had gained a more healthy blush. And had her features softened a bit?
She was supporting herself against the wall, and he offered her his arm. She looked a bit surprised at first, then accepted it.
"Seems like not all your manners have been lost up in Gaul," she commented, before moving over to where her dress was lying on the floor.
Now what? He was only used to being in the customer's role in these situations, and she hadn't talked about payment – not that he was interested in that. That would only drive home how far he'd fallen. He picked up his loincloth and put it back on.
She quickly got dressed and smoothed her hair a bit. Then she turned towards him, reached out and ran her hand up his arm. For a moment she looked like she wanted to tell him something, but then she draped her palla around her and went over and knocked on the door. The guard soon came and let her out, and he got a glimpse of what appeared to be her slaves waiting for her. Then the door closed again.