The blood. The screams. The snap and crack of bones breaking. The roar of the crowd. The feel and sound of his heart hammering in his ears. These were the sounds that Ermolai were familiar with. They assaulted his during the day and haunted him at night. There was no rest from it, no reprieve. Even in the cold, dark silence, he could see them, fresh in his ears as if they were happening before his eyes. This was his life: a gladiator, fit to serve and entertain.
 
His opponent, a feline. He'd never seen a creature like it before, but it's peculiar appearance and form were not surprising. Ermolai, foreign and unfamiliar himself to the arena's crowd, had faced a number of opponents of varying stature and size, some with fur and some with scales. They all ended the same.
 
It scratched and bit. Ermolai had it in the easiest position for him to deal a decisive blow: beneath him, as his overbearing body straddled the feline's lithe and slender form. He had more or less trapped it's legs behind him, so his opponent has resorted to attacking with razor sharp claws. Most of them were unable to penetrate the thick skin beneath Ermolai's jet black fur, but they did manage to graze enough to be uncomfortable. His clothes, tattered and lacking as they were in these scenarios, were now predominantly non-existent-- what was left of them had been torn off in a flurry of claws. Thankfully, the feline was too delirious to focus on the more sensitive parts of Ermolai's body-- it was too busy panicking from the hand around it's throat.
 
In this cut-throat world, something as benign as mercy was non-existent. Ermolai had learnt that the hard way on his first opponent, when he had expected his owner and master to give the word for him to retreat. Instead, he had been barked hostile orders he couldn't understand. It wasn't until Ermolai had killed the man that his owner was satisfied, and this time was no different. His master didn't shout and scream for him to end it. Ermolai knew he had to.
 
All it took was a tight squeeze, and the large, imposing man briefly closed his eyes as he felt the crack beneath his fingers. The feline's hands went limp and hit the floor as his eyes rolled back. Ermolai didn't need to see him. He didn't want to. If anything, this was more merciful than what others might have done to him. The gladiator heaved himself to his feet and turned, raising a fist upwards to the crowd. They roared and cheered for him, clapping their hands together and bouncing up and down in the stands. This was what they wanted-- to see blood and grit and death. Some of them probably enjoy the casual nudity as well-- Ermolai was all but exposed, from head to toe. He didn't care. Nothing mattered much any more.
 
It's been 2 years since Ermolai was enslaved. He belonged to a fairly simple tribe of warriors and gatherers who are quite unlike most in their fairly cold climate. Some have called them bears or ursine, though Ermolai can't say what that means. Most of their kind reach over 6 foot tall in size and are usually shaggy and thick with fur. Their muscles are their strong suit-- though limited in technology, they have sheer brute strength that, at the time that they were still a tribe, was unrivalled by any other. That is, until the Meerkonians came.
 
If Ermolai had to describe the Meerkonians, they would be the exact opposite of their own tribe. Weak and slender, with no physical prowess, they were referred to as Meerkats amongst their own kind. Their intelligence and pack mentality, however, was their real strength. What they lacked in brawn they made up for in their advanced weaponry and armour. When they attack Ermolai's tribe, none of their tribesman could pierce the Meerkonian's armour, and they were slaughtered by one by with sharp, long metal sticks which Ermolai came to learn were swords. After their strongest warriors were defeated and their elder executed, the rest of the tribesman were rounded up and taken to a ship. They travelled across water into a warmer climate and were set to work.
 
Ermolai seemed to be something of a gem to the Meerkonians. He had become famous in the gladiatorial arena-- he hadn't been on of the strongest in his tribe when they were captured, but amongst the Meerkonians he was unstoppable-- at least, in the arena he was. He quickly came to learn that it was next to impossible to escape. The Meerkonians were simply too advanced. They had buildings as tall as giants and weaponry sharper than fangs, with armour as thick and impenetrable as stone. But they didn't harm him-- they merely treated him poorly and had him fight every single day for their entertainment. It was a peculiar life...one that Ermolai didn't enjoy and hoped one day to be free of.
 
The bear adjourned from the arena into the smaller rooms that sat underneath the seats for the crowd. There, he'd be able to appropriately change into normal clothing-- a rule of the Meerkonians, apparently-- and he'd be able to get some rest, if only for a couple of minutes at least. For all intents and purposes, this place was his home: he slept here and was fed here. Unless his master had other plans, this is usually where he remained between fights.
 
As if on cue, the adjoining door that lead into the network of tunnels beneath the stands creaked open, and from within the hallway stepped a slenderly built Meerkat, his head adorned with a freakish blond streak of fur that curled around to form a fairly 'royal' tuft. Beside him were two other Meerkats, clad in fairly 'skimpy' attire for the average civilian, a stark contrast to their masters form-fitting robe with obvious lavish ornaments. A glittering broach caught Ermolai's eye, as it always did-- a jewel fastened into etched gold, carved into the crest of the man's family, House Gilt.
 
"Erm, my wonderful gladiator!" The Meerkat cried and clapped his hands together, gesturing to his subordinates to go to the bear's aid. "What a wonderful performance. To keep the audience on the edge of their seats, only to snuff the life from your victim...it's quite an art form, your killing intent."
 
Ermolai knew better than to respond back. He'd learnt the hard way that being his usual self or showing any degree of anything but subservience warranted punishment, so kept kept quiet, hands placed on his knees. The two other meerkats made their way towards him and began to untie the little scraps of cloth that clung to Ermolai's body, effectively undressing him. One of them was previously holding a small tray that they set down on the bench next to the man, picking up what looked to be a damp cloth, pressing its coolness over any obvious cuts that they could see.
 
Milo Gilt. That was the name of the man who had bought him when he was first put up for auction, the same man that stood in front of him right now. When Ermolai had been first been brought into the Meerkonian capital-- Provinence, they called it-- he had been taken straight to the slave markets along with the rest of his tribe. He had seen the females, his siblings, children and parents be sold off to the highest bidder, funnelled away by armed guards into the waiting arms of sleazy, aging men who had the twinkle in their eye of a predator-- one of a different nature to his own. Though he was naive to their customs and civilisation, the gleam in their eye was unmistakable for lust and desire, and he'd wanted nothing more than to rip their throats out.
 
Then it had been his turn, and he was being sold for more much than the females and others of his kind. Perhaps they could see the murderous look in his expression, or maybe they were impressed by his growing muscles. Whatever the case was, it was Milo who made an offering no-one could dared to match. They cowered away from him as if he were a beast, averted their eyes like he would kill them for even staring at him. With no-one to contend, Ermolai fell under the Meerkat's care and became his gladiator shortly thereafter.
 
"Hmm? Nothing to say?" Milo grimaced, and though he appeared to be friendly and inviting, he was anything but. Ermolai knew better than to be casual with him. The Meerkat began to chuckle when the bear didn't reply and seemed satisfied with his answer, or lack thereof.
 
"Well, you did quite the excellent job," Ermolai's owner continued. "So much so, in fact, that I might be willing to reward you. Perhaps a...short trip outside these walls?"
 
Ermolai perked up at the man's words, raising his head to stare into the Meerkat's eyes. He didn't think he'd get another chance like this.
 
Some 5 months ago, Milo had offered the same rewards-- the chance to walk about the city with some modicum of freedom, albeit with an armed escort. Though he was effectively tailed wherever he went, and quite openly too, he had free reign to go wherever he wanted at the time. Of course, he did what any captive man would do, and tried to escape. He thought, at the time, that he had almost succeeded, but he had underestimated the strategic prowess of his opponent. They had guessed where he might escaped from and cornered him appropriately. He'd been punished severely for attempting to escape, receiving lashings upon lashings. He had assumed, up until now, that they wouldn't give him another chance to see the outside world and he'd die within these walls. Yet, it seemed his smug slave owner saw fit to tempt him once again.
 
"Oh, that piqued your interest, did it?" Milo grinned with a dark twinkle in his eye. "You'll be escorted again, of course...with a much larger detail than last time, but I'm sure you'd appreciate a little bit of freedom. Perhaps you'll work a little harder in the future to earn more of it?"
 
Ermolai could understand the man's game-- though his tribe was primitive and 'stupid' in comparison to the Meerkonian's technology, he was smart enough to understand a 'carrot and stick' mentality. Milo was trying to get him to be more subservient in exchange for more luxury. Ermolai didn't want to admit it, but it was working. With a grunt, the bear lowered his head.
 
"Okay." He didn't make much attempt to learn the Meerkonian language, prideful of his own, but he at least knew a handful of words, enough for him to have some sort of one-sided conversation. This didn't seem to satisfy Gilt, however, who reached out and cupped the bear's chin.
 
"Now, is that any way to respond to your master?" The Meerkat plied, and Ermolai resisted the urge to frown and snarl.
 
"Yes...sir." Politeness was key with Milo. Ermolai didn't want to risk facing his wrath if a 'reward' was on the table. The Meerkat stared at him for a moment before he dropped his hand from the bear's chin, turning on a heel and striding back towards the door he'd just entered in from.
 
"The guards will come collect you at dusk," The Meerkat snapped his fingers. "Before then, your contribution will be collected. Slaves, if you please."
 
"As you command." The two other Meerkats who had been seeing to the bear's naked form spoke in unison, obeying the one who owned them. Ermolai lowered his gaze and watched as one of the Meerkats reached out, snaking a hand along his inner thigh and towards his crotch. They grabbed with him little to not subtly, no emotion or joy in their touch or movement. The bear let out a long sigh and closed his eyes.
 
This was the part of the day that he was the most unsure about. The Meerkonians, for whatever reason, required something of him-- something that was normally produced when he was breeding with an attentive female. His tribe, when it was still around, was no stranger to sex-- in fact, they never really wore clothes and openly copulated when offspring were needed. They had a great number of children, but they were careful about their population. Their village elder was the main 'head' of that, knowing when it was necessary to have more children or when they should stick to a withdrawal method, allowing them to enjoy the luxury of breeding without the aftermath. But the Meerkonians wanted his fluids for something else. Of that, he couldn't be certain, but they requested it of him every night after his fights.
 
These were not Milo's usual slaves. He could tell in the way they touched and caressed him, rigid and unwilling, to a degree. He could tell by their slightly quivering breath that they were curious, perhaps even anticipating the sight of him fully erect, but they were not attentive to what he might have liked. Milo's usual boys, whom Ermolai never knew by name but at least recognised by their distinctive smell and fur markings, had pleasured the bear long enough to get a good idea of how hard to grip, how quick to stroke, how to touch him in other ways that got their job done faster. These were...relatively unpleasant, to say the least.
 
Regardless, a hand on his cock wasn't exactly the worst thing in the world. Though the Meerkonians inhibited his freedom, punished him when he spoke out of turn and forced him to fight to the death every day, this was probably not the worst part of his life. His body couldn't deny the pleasure of an orgasm, and there was no way of stopping that rush that fogged his mind either. He usually came to regret it later, but one the times he'd refused, it had been drawn out of him in other ways that were not as freeing as this.
 
The bear grunted quietly, and his body began to react to the touch, his member beginning to grow and throb under the meerkat's touch. The second of the slaves moved his hand to join the first and the two of them gripped the squeezed, doing little else but focus on the task at hand. Ermolai leant back somewhat, placing his hands behind him on the stone bench and spreading his legs apart, just a little, to give his balls some breathing room. The meerkats tugged on his humanoid member and dragged back the foreskin towards the edge of his glans, before guiding it back up again, their small hands squeezing both sides of his length. It didn't take much to stir him up enough to half-mast, but it'd take longer to reach full mast if this is all they were going to do.
 
The meerkats seemed to sense what he was feeling, which was a blessing, considering the limited vocabulary that Ermolai could use. One of them moved, sliding their hand from his member as they got onto his knees on the harsh stone floor, not even wincing as they shuffled forwards and turned to face him. Ermolai stared down at them with an intense gaze, watching as they likely pressed their hands to his knees, coaxing him to spread them a little more. THe bear obliged as they slid in between them, bowing their head. The second of the two dragged their slender fingers to the base of his member and the first pressed their lips to the head of his cock, rolling a warm tongue around his sensitive glans.
 
It was only when he heard the meerkat in front of him groan in a sultry, low-ish voice that Ermolai became aware that Milo had once again picked out a pair of men as his personal slaves. Homosexuality was, by and large, not an uncommon concept to the Meerkonians, who loved nothing more than the facade of equality whilst simultaneously making slaves of their own people through greed and social status. To Ermolai, however, it was very much a foreign thing-- he'd only ever had sex with women, and considered himself something of a 'breeder'. He hadn't quite realised the enjoyment of another male's touch, one who was familiar enough with a man's 'tool' to know what it liked, until it had effectively been forced upon him.
 
A groan escaped the bear's lips as he felt the delightful warmth of a mouth pushing down on his cock, taking more and more of his turgid, 8 inch length. Though the meerkats were not used to using their hands, they couldn't go wrong with a mouth, so long as they kept their teeth out of the way. Thankfully, the one that began to steadily bob up and down upon his twitching cock was thankfully doing just that, each dip and thrust, spreading saliva around the bear's length, making it easier with each suck and slurp.
 
It wasn't going to take all that long to get him going. Something about fighting in the arena and getting his blood pumping worked up a metaphorical sweat inside his body and stirred his senses, making him strangely sensitive to even the most subtle of touches. That wasn't even considering that the meerkat before him, though an enemy to his tribe, wasn't the most unattractive male he'd seen. Ermolai was aware he was staring a little too strongly, but that didn't matter to him-- he was just taking in the sight of the slave's bobbing head, the suckling sounds of their oral sex and the pleasure that crept up his spine and made the thick skin beneath his fur tingle.
 
After a while, Ermolai closed his eyes and just bathed in the sensations that assaulted his body, finding it to be much more interesting than just watching what the meerkat was doing to him. He shuddered at the feeling of the other slave's hand gripping the base of his member, pumping idly back and forth as the first of the two bobbed his head up and down half of his member, tiny dribbles of spit trickling down the underside of his thick cock. He could feel the other's slaves second hand groping his leg, squeezing his inner thigh in an effort to encourage him. It didn't do much, but the foreign touch was exciting, at the very least. It took take long for Ermolai's breathing to quicken and his chest to heave. He could feel himself getting close.
 
He resisted the urge to grab the meerkat's head and force him down, acutely aware of the purpose of this benign exercise. Instead, he curled his fingers around the lip of the stone bench and rolled his head back, a quiet groan escaping his lips as he felt himself nearing the point of no return. The meerkat seemed to sense he was close, for his mouth withdrew completely, halting the bear's primary source of pleasure. The mouth was quickly replaced by a hand however, just in time to tip Ermolai over the metaphorical edge, fingers gliding up and yanking his foreskin back and forth.
 
All at once, Ermolai's muscles relaxed and he felt truly at bliss. The feeling was nostaglic, a reminder of better times when he could lay in the grass and watch the sun, or when he used to roll in the dirt with his other tribesman, play fighting and wrestling. Alongside that pleasure was the warm feeling of his throbbing cock, spurting rope after rope of virile, tribal seed. Though Ermolai couldn't see where it landed, he was fairly certain one of the slaves had a cup positioned in the right spot to catch his load, to use for purposes he did not know. One hand continued to vigorously stroke his member, coaxing out every last droplet it could as another cupped his ample balls and gave them tender, gentle squeezes, trying to encourage him to shoot with more force. Though their hands were inexperienced, they had clearly been taught how to please a man.
 
As Ermolai's orgasm began to fade, their hands retreated, though not before cleaning him up a little with their fingers, scooping the last of his cum. Just as quickly as they had come onto him and set out to the task at hand, they withdrew. By the time to bear opened his eyes, he was greeted to the cold and empty silence of the changing rooms, with no-one but himself to keep him company. A sad sigh escaped his lips, his half-limp cock hanging between his legs, the tip smeared and cleaned of every last drop. He wouldn't have minded if they were uncomfortable, but it would have been nice to relax and cuddle, at least. The bear hung his head and looked down at his hands, once again reminded of his lonely and frustrating life.
 
 
 
---------- x x x ----------
 
 
 
It wasn't until the sun had set that the guards finally came for him. They entered in through the only door to the changing rooms, the one that Milo typically came in from when he came to see Ermolai just after a match. Clad in steel plate armour that was almost impenetrable to any sort of frontal attack, 5 guards holding onto short spears with clearly athletic bodies beneath filed into the room. One of them stood forwards to greet the bear, who had sat up from his laid-down position on the bench.
 
"We are to escort you to wherever you want to go, under Gilt's orders," The meerkat soldier slammed the butt of his spear to the ground. "If you run, we are to subdue you."
 
Ermolai grunted. He expected as much from trained soldiers-- much like the warriors of his own tribe, they followed a 'chief'. In this case, that was Milo. It was clear that the one Meerkonian to speak to him was the leader of this group however, as denoted by the alteration headgear-- a red feathery tuft sat on top, almost ceremonial in nature, whilst the other guards were lacking such an adornment.
 
"Get up. Let's go." The guard demanded, slamming his spear against the ground again. Ermolai slowly heaved himself to his feet, aware that he was fully naked. The meerkats didn't seem to mind, but one of the other guardsman stepped forwards, a bundle in their hands. They heled it out and Ermolai took them, holding them out in front of him to see that Milo's choice of clothes for him were more or less tattered rags that somehow looked like a tunic and a pair of shorts. Ermolai was sure he could see dirt on them as well-- not that it mattered to him. If he could, he'd walk around naked. With a low sigh, he stepped into the shorts and tugged the tunic over his head, feeling a sense of discomfort when he realised the tunic was perhaps a little too small.
 
With a quick gesture, Ermolai was guided out into a city that was, by and large, unfamiliar to him. He hadn't a coin to his name, but his reputation was well known. The second he moved from the confines of the arena and out into the streets, he could already feel eyes on him, and not just those of his hired, armed escort. The group that was meant to keep him from running stayed dutifully silent and then tell him where to go, allowing him the luxury of the evening to explore and wander. Not that he could do much other than just that-- walk. This was yet another one of Milo's cunning games: offer him a modicum of freedom, but without the enjoyment to pursue anything. He could not acquire personal possessions because he had no money, could not make meaningful connections because he was an unknown in a foreign land, and had none of his own tribesman to converse with. Though he could walk among the Meerkonians with a certain degree of liberty, he was just as isolated as when he was back in his prison.
 
His journey took him down into the main market bazaar, which was now quiet and not as busy as it would have been during the day. He walked past children who pointed and gawked, past stands of shopkeepers who seemed to visibly tense when he looked their way. They were afraid of him. Afraid enough to potentially lash out if he even considered approaching. One quick gesture in the wrong direction would likely mean a spear in his side, so the bear kept his hands firmly by his hips. He walked slow and methodical, his instincts telling him that appearing to be slow would make him less imposing. But anyone who knew him or had seen him in battle would be more an acutely aware of how agile and vicious he could be.
 
Moving away from the bazaar, Ermolai found himself descending into the metaphorical underbelly of the city, into the dark alleys and corners where one might find petty thieves and criminals. There, tucked away in the middle of a quiet street was a building that caught the bear's eye. The interior itself was fairly standard for his part of the city: dishevelled walls and cracking brick smoothed over with paint told a story of poorly-built buildings that were made in a hurry to house the populace. What caught his eye however was the door-- or lack of one, for that matter. Instead, there was a simple beaded curtain and beyond it, the warm glow of candles and the faint sounds of moaning.
 
It was only when Ermolai got closer than he began to understand what the building was: a brothel. Though he'd never had the luxury of going in one before, he had lived amongst the Meerkonians enough, and listened to Gilt's ramblings enough to understand that they had houses specifically for having sex, that one pays for with money. Ermolai, of course, was curious-- slave hands were enough to satisfy him, but to have complete sex with someone would be tantalising. A woman, too, would be good. Though he knew he had no money, he stepped towards the curtain and cast a glance back at the guards behind him. They had moved into a position opposite the building, watching him from a small distance away to make sure he didn't sneak out. He didn't mind them waiting-- if anything, the thought of them having to stand there until the sun rose tomorrow amused him. He stepped into the building and let the curtain fall back into place.
 
The interior was not what Ermolai expected. In front of him sat a spacious room of sorts, with a set of stairs at the back that turned at the corner to lead to an upper level. A quiet thudding sound from upstairs reminded him what this place was as he turned his head to the left and right, noticing a couple of other open, doorless rooms that seemed to be bedrooms of sorts-- one quick glance into one room offered him a view of two Meerkonian men, locked together in the throes of passion. They sat knelt on a straw bed, chest to chest, with their obvious erections prodding one-another. Ermolai turned his gaze away towards a small desk that sat just beside the stairs. Behind it sat a meerkat in a long glowing robe over its lithe form. Its eyes were glued to the bear's hulking frame and barely fitting clothes. Ermolai stepped closer.
 
"My oh my..." The meerkat mumbled, letting out a wistful sigh. "The 'Unstoppable Beast', in my little getaway home. What a pleasure."
 
That was a title that many had granted Ermolai after his string of several hundred undefeated matches. The bear grunted in response to the man's obvious flirtation and cleared his throat, parting his lips to attempt to speak a word.
 
"Woman." He was aware he might be pronouncing it wrong, but he hoped that he'd gotten the message across. The meerkat behind the desk frowned and leant back, adjusting the robe around his body, deliberately parting it a little at his chest.
 
"Sorry, big guy-- no woman here. Just us pretty men." The meerkat waggled his eyebrows and Ermolai couldn't stop himself from openly grimacing, much to the meerkat's amusement. A wide grin spread across the man's face as the bear raised his eyes to the dull thudding from above, his ears perking at the quiet groans. His nostrils filled with the scent of sex and it stirred him a little.
 
"Okay." He replied with a grumble, rolling his shoulders and then patting his sides, turning his hands palm-up to signify he had no money. The meerkat hummed and waved a hand.
 
"First one's on the house, honey, especially for a superstar like you," The meerkat purred. "Let me just go and see who's available."
 
He stood, making his way around the desk and deliberately snaking a hand across Ermolai's back before making his way up the stairs. The bear turned and quietly waited, folding his arms and looking down at the stone sloor. It was smooth like slate, and he had to admire the craftsmanship, just a little, to make a stone as large as this so smooth. It was interesting.
 
The padding of footsteps to his left caught his attention, coming from the direction of the room he hadn't even bothered to look into when he stepped inside. He raised his head to see who it was, and his entire world halted.
 
There, standing before him, was a familiar face-- a bear, just like himself. One of his own tribe. It had been over 18 months since Ermolai had seen one of their species, and he had thought for sure that the majority of them had been sold to other civilisations whilst the rest had perished to satisfy the Meerkonian's lust for entertainment. Yet before him stood a male of his species, and one that was familiar to him, at least a little. Their tribe only had a population of 300 or so, enough for most of them to be recognisable to him-- he had grown up with the majority of them, after all. He was sure that the one who stood before him had been shorter when he'd last seen him, but he was a growing warrior of their tribe, who had been training with them as they hunted. Ermolai's mind churned as he tried to think of his name.
 
Just like him, the other bear had stopped in his tracks. He was considerably shorter than the 6 foot bear before him-- there was about a foot of difference between them. He wasn't that old, from what Ermolai could guess, perhaps 17 at most, but in their tribe a man was a man when he became 15 years of age. The past 2 years had clearly been unkind to the 17 year old, who lacked the muscle mass that Ermolai was now well known for. The disparaging difference between them, a muscular pride of his species compared to the naked, used bear before him who had been socially altered by the Meerkonians to be slender and desirable almost brought Ermolai to tears.
 
"You..." The bear spoke in their native language, making Ermoali's stomach twist. "You are one of us? Berin?"
 
To hear to name of their tribe from another practically made Ermolai's knees wobble, and he was glad that it was not only him who was overcome with a sense of joy and fulfilment. The younger bear suddenly closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around Ermolai's waist, pressing his coarse fur to the bear's own. Ermolai couldn't resist hauling the bear up and smothering him against his chest, these types of full body hugs being a usual term of endearment and intimate greeting from one tribesman to another. Though perhaps a little inappropriate given that they were strangers, the sight of one-another after so long was enough to destroy that social barrier.
 
"I have not seen one of us in so long." Ermolai muttered out in their native tongue, speaking the most that he had done in the past 2 years. He squeezed the bear a little tighter and heard a grunt in response. Remebering that the bear in front of him was not quite as well built as himself, Ermolai loosened his grip and lowered the bear to the floor, cupping the man's cheeks with his hands.
 
"What have they done to you?" He demanded, looking the 17 year old up and down, examining him. "Where are your muscles? Your fighting spirit? Even your claws...they have trimmed them."
 
"I am fine, brother," The younger bear spoke, reaching up to grab Ermolai's hand and pull it down. "They have not hurt me. I am just adapting. Surviving. If I was big and strong like you, I would not belong here."
 
Ermolai's expression softened and he lowered his gaze. To be called 'brother' was more than he could hoped. Though they were not related (or perhaps were, if one were to consider the lengths of inbreeding that went on in their tribe excluding their direct offspring), it was yet another form of endearment that solidified the bond that was steadily growing between them. Ermolai was still a little shocked at the sight of one of his own when he heard a sound from behind him. He turned his head to see the owner of the brothel, the meerkat, standing on the small landing where the steps turned.
 
"Oh, that's just too much." The meerkat sniffled and wiped an eye, and it was hard to tell if he was being genuine or mocking them. "I had completely overlooked the thought of pairing you two together like this. It must have been so long..."
 
He descended the steps and Ermolai found himself protectively stepping in front of the younger bear to shield him from the sly meerkat in front of them. The 17 year old made a quiet protest in their language, but Ermolai made a gesture with his hand that silenced him.
 
"I take." Ermolai demanded in a low and quiet tone, using the Meerkonian tongue. The meerkat hummed as he moved back into his usual seat behind the desk, leaning forwards to balance his chin in his palms and admire Ermolai's tall, impressive stature.
 
"I'm afraid not, honey," He smiled sweetly, but his eyes twinkled darkly. "Little Samuil here is my property. I bought him, fair and square-- and he doesn't exactly have it bad here. Do you, my little bear cub?"
 
He turned his attention to who Ermolai could now call Samuil, and the younger bear lowered his gaze and took a tentative step back. Ermolai could see so much of his own interaction with Milo Gilt in the way Samuil and his own master interacted, and it made his blood boil.
 
"If you try..." The meerkat seemed to sense Ermolai's anger. "Then you know what will happen-- I know you tribal folk-- Berin, right? You're not stupid. The guards will chase you down and stick you like a pig if you think of trying to run away with him... and what'll that mean for poor Samuil here, who would be labelled as just another man trying to escape?"
 
Much like Milo, this meerkat had a silver tongue, and the bear understood him perfectly. Ermolai knew all too well the rules of this place. Trying to escape once on his own before didn't work out too well, and the odds would be even slimmer, perhaps impossible, if Samuil were with him. Plus the thought of him being harmed...the brothel's owner was playing with his heart. Ermolai calmed himself and unclenched his fists, and the man seemed satisfied. He cast his gaze to the door what Samuil had stepped out from previously and Ermolai turned his head to see a meerkat slinking out the front door.
 
"Looks like Samuil's client is happy, so...why don't the two of your scurry off into that room there and spend the night together? Fuck, don't fuck...doesn't matter to me." The owner battered his eyelashes pleasantly. "Consider it a gesture of my own goodwill, Unstoppable Beast. Don't go breaking the bed now."
 
Ermolai muttered something under his breath in his own language, before he turned and grabbed Samuil's wrist, effectively dragging him into the room-- not that the younger bear put up much of a resistance. They stepped inside, and Ermolai was greeted to the smell of sex and a large bed directly opposite the entrance, in clear view of the doorless frame. The bear grunted at the lack of any sort of privacy, but turned his attention to Samuil for the time being.
 
"I am...still in awe," Ermolai admitted quietly, nervously glancing towards the door before staring down at the teen's face again. "To see another of my kind, for fate to give me this chance is..."
 
"I know," Samuil lowered his gaze. "I have...sadly known about you for some time. The whole city does, but...my place is here and I was not allowed to go and see you."
 
"Have you see anyone else?" The bear asked, moving to take a seat on the bed, and Samuil joined him. "I have not seen anyone else, but my time in the city is limited, at best."
 
"No," Samuil shook his head. "I'm afraid not. No-one has ever come here and I haven't seem them from the window on the floor above."
 
Ermolai grimaced, looking down at the floor. It seemed like a futile effort to search for the rest of his tribe, and he didn't exactly have all night, as it were. A warmth pressed against his side and Ermolai turned his head to see Samuil leaning against him, like a female might do with one of their stronger tribe members. The larger bear instinctively put his arm around the smaller one.
 
"What do they make you do here?" Ermolai tentatively asked, and he felt the bear tense a little against him.
 
"Nothing like what you do," Samuil admitted. "People pay to...lay with me. Treat me like a female."
 
Ermolai's expression softened and affirmed his grip around the bear's shoulders, sympathising with him. If their roles were switched, he didn't know if he could personally take it.
 
"It's not so bad," Samuil attempted to deflect his emotions somewhat. "Some men are unsavoury and unpleasant to look at, but others are...nice. They are kind."
 
"Mm." Ermolai didn't know what to say to that. He couldn't exactly offer any comfort-- not that it seemed like Samuil needed it.
 
With a sigh, the larger bear loosened his grip and laid back, putting his arms up behind his head and staring up at the slightly cracking ceiling. Samuil instinctively moved in beside him and curled up against his side, putting a hand over the bear's clothed form. They sat there in silence for some time, neither of them sure what to say yet content with the safety and warmth of each other.
 
"Do you think we'll ever escape?" Samuil asked quietly, barely above a whisper, and Ermolai sighed slowly through his nose.
 
"No." He admitted. His attempts to do so had all turned into fruitless endeavours. This was their life now, and they sadly had to get used to it.
 
Ermolai closed his eyes and wondered if a long night's sleep was in order. This was certainly comfier than the stone bench he was usually accustomed to, at least. Not to mention the warmth of another next to him was comforting; the feel the beat of their own heart against his side made him vividly aware of their existence. The fingers that he felt against his chest began to subtly move, further and further down, until they touched with the hem of his shirt and reached for the tied waistline of his cloth pants.
 
Ermolai didn't speak or ask what the younger bear was doing. Sex was not uncommon for them-- and it was ultimately the 'job' that Samuil had. It came as no surprise to Ermolai that the bear might want to do that sort of thing with him in particular; if anything, it might be better than anyone else, considering they're of the same species. There's a degree of familiarity there. Yet, Ermolai couldn't help but feel strangely uncomfortable-- the kind of feeling one might have when having sex with their son. Perhaps it was just Ermolai's naturally paternal nature shining through in the face of a younger bear who was barely a man, or something else entirely. In either case, he found himself subtly shifting a little at the thought and Samuil briefly hesitated, before going one step further instead. Ermolai admittedly hadn't expected him to double down on his efforts, but the older bear's stomach quivered at the thought of actual intimate sex.
 
Samuil's hand eventually moved down far enough to meet with his crotch, the fingers dancing over the fabric and trailing along the outline of the bear's already half-chub member. Ermolai didn't want to admit how exciting the thought of sex was, but his own body betrayed his emotions on the subject. Thankfully, Samuil didn't mention anything about it. Instead, the younger bear curled his fingers around the girth of Ermolai's steadily growing cock and he stroked the outline of it, up and down. The older bear couldn't help but quietly groan, and his cock stiffened rapidly under the other ursine's touch.
 
In just a matter of moments, Ermolai was completely erect, and the outline of his 8 inch cock pressed against the taut fabric of the cloth scraps, trailing along his left inner thigh. Samuil reached up and expertly pulled on the string that would have kept Ermolai's pants up, were he standing upright. They loosened around the bear's waist and Samuil stuck his hand in, his bare fingers dancing along Ermolai's upper pelvis before they inevitably reached the base of his turgid length and beyond. Samuil slid his fingers down the twitching length until he was about halfway down, and he curled his fingers, gently pulling the cock upwards and freeing it from the confines of the bear's pants. The head of the member stuck out from the top of the pants, and Ermolai lidded his gaze as Samuil gave his cock a few leisurely pumps with his hand, dragging the foreskin back and forth with ease.
 
Suddenly, Ermolai sat up, scooting backwards on the bed and gently pulled Samuil along with him. It took some effort, but Ermolai eventually managed to them in an appropriate position on the bed, heads near the pillows, before he flipped the pair of them over, forcing Samuil onto his back on the bed and allowing Ermolai the luxury of towering over him. The young bear's cheeks looked momentarily flushed and he reached up, holding onto the bear's upper arms. Samuil was already instinctively spreading his legs to allow Ermolai access, but the young ursine was surprised when the older bear lowered his head, Ermolai's lips meeting with his neck in a rather passionate, intimate kiss.
 
A quivering sigh escaped Samuil's lips as he reached around, fingers digging into the fabric of Ermolai's top, his lack of claws making him unable to tear the clothes from Ermolai's very form. The larger bear assaulted Samuil's neck with an array of kisses that ran up towards his cheek and even up to Samuil's ear. He turned his head, reaching out with a hand and guide Samuil to look at him. Just as quickly as he had flipped them over, he pressed his muzzle against Samuil's own, pulling him into a deep, penetrating kiss.
 
Samuil practically melted beneath him, his once tight grip on Ermolai's sides loosened into a gentle hold. They instinctively parted their lips and their tongues met moments later, tasting each other's saliva. Ermolai angled his head and pushed his mouth down, connecting their muzzles as one as he reached out with a hand to stroke Samuil's slender form, propping himself up with the other. The younger bear shuddered beneath his touch and reached down with his own hand to grope along Ermolai's stomach, incentivising him to get on with it.
 
Their lips parted and the large bear lifted himself up for a moment, settling on his knees as he reached up to his tunic. He didn't care for the clothes and so had no qualms with digging his claws into the cloth and ripping it apart, revealing his chiselled chest that was marred with scars beneath the thick fur. He more or less did the same to his pants, aware it would be a hassle to wrangle himself out of them otherwise. He tossed the tattered remains of his clothes to the floor and stared down at Samuil, who was already spread-eagled, his hands tucked in underneath his upper legs to keep himself spread apart.
 
"What is...what's this?" Ermolai made a gesture at the bear's position and Samuil felt his cheeks redden.
 
"I-It's a pose...for breeding. I'm exposing myself." Samuil explained vaguely, his own little erect, 6 inches in length, pulsing warmly against his stomach. Sure enough, as Ermolai trailed his gaze down to could see the bear's slightly wet hole, now clearly exposed thanks to the bear's spread legs and stretched cheeks. Ermolai frowned and then quickly remembered that Samuil had recently finished with another 'client'.
 
Though it wasn't necessarily his thing, it did mean it might be easier to have sex if the younger bear was already 'used'. Since Samuil seemed to eager, Ermolai felt it appropriate to obliged. The bear shuffled forwards, hooking a hand under Samuil's behind and hoisting him up so that the length of the older bear's cock grazed and rubbed against Samuil's ass, the head of his cock probing the younger bear's balls a little bit. He slowly dragged himself back, gliding the underside of his member against the bear's nether regions before the head of his cock probed and prodded the slightly stretched hole.
 
"Breed me." Samuil breathlessly requested, almost begged, and Ermolai was more than happy to oblige. His twitching cock pushed forwards, and with the aid of another man's seed, he slipped into the younger bear almost effortlessly. Samuil hissed through his teeth and rolled his head back, and Ermolai shuddered, leaning forwards to prop himself up with a hand as the other kept Samuil well positioned. He pushed his hips forwards and sunk himself into the younger bear's ass, feeling those spasming inner walls clenching around his cock and loosening periodically to take more of it, slowly adjusting to the girth of his own tribesman's member. Ermolai has always been a little more well endowed, considerably more so than the average Meerkonian, so it was no surprise that Samuil was having a bit of trouble.
 
Despite that, however, the younger ursine let out a groan that could only be construed as one of pleasure, and that encouraged Ermolai to tug back and thrust forwards, pushing himself just a little deeper. The mere sensation of those warm inner walls clenching around his cock was so divine and exquisite that he'd almost forgotten that someone else had used this hole previously. He tried not to think about it and instead focused on those vivid sensations, on the feeling of warm, humming pleasure that coursed around his body.
 
Ermolai couldn't resist picking up a steady pace and beginning to thrust. Samuil seemed more than happy for him to do so as well-- the bear's eyes were lidded over and he was panting and groaning with an obvious intensity, his innards tensing with every thrust. Ermolai himself was beginning to huff and grunt, though he knew it was going to take a while to get him to cum-- though he hadn't had proper sex in a couple of years, being regularly touched by slaves every night made his libido fairly average.
 
Neither of them had to say anything: both of them knew what they wanted just by looking into each other eyes-- to go faster. Ermolai picked up the pace, feeling the tingle run up his spine that told him to keep going, that dulled the slowly growing ache in his legs from physical exertion, that blocked out anything else by the bear behind him and the feel of those gripping muscles around his cock. Samuil began to whimper, vulnerable and sensitive, and he loosened his grip on his own legs to reach up and wrap his arms around Ermolai's neck. Never had the two of them experienced sex so passionate, so vibrant with a cocktail of hidden emotions.
 
After a few minutes of passionate, vigorous thrusting, Ermolai could feel something forming within him, a familiar sensation that he had grown accustomed to in the past 2 years. Not only did it encourage him to thrust harder and faster, but as he continued to feeling grew, forming a tight squeezing knot in the pit of his pelvis. His moans grew more intense as he looked down at Samuil's jiggling body, the sounds of their sex filling the air, the wet squelching of the bear's cock sliding back and forth coupled with the occasional wet slap of his stick pelvis meeting the bear's cheeks. Ermolai looked down and, to his surprise, found that Samuil had already painted his own front with seed. In the heat of his own fervent pleasure, he hadn't even noticed.
 
"Yes...please..." Samuil breathlessly panted, his hands now positioned on Ermolai's upper arm and opposite shoulder respectively, his insides clamping down and squeezing. "Fill me with your seed, brother..."
 
The mere sound of his own native tongue on another's lips, in such a lewd passion, was enough to encourage Ermolai over the edge. He felt the pleasure rapidly reach its peak and tip over, and he plunged forwards, sinking himself into the younger bear as deep as he could muster. Overcome with a delightful ecstasy, the bear's muscles relaxed all at once and his balls tucked up against his muscular form, his cock wildly throbbing and pumping thick spurts of cum into his tribesman's behind. He emptied himself into him with the biggest load he could have managed in the last couple of years, and he practically shuddered from the bliss that coursed through him.
 
His orgasm faded almost as quickly as it had arrived, much to his disappointment. His body ached and begged for rest and he lowered Samuil onto the bed, withdrawing from him and inadvertently smearing his cum-covered cock against the bear's inner leg, before he rolled over onto his back. Ermolai wiped his forehead and relaxed against the soft bed, feeling Samuil curl up against him once more. The younger back traced a finger along Ermolai's front, catching the lines of scars with his fingertip. He didn't ask about them.
 
"It was nice to be with you, brother." Samuil hummed, and the older bear put an arm around him.
 
"Ermolai. That is my name."
 
"Mm. It feels...familiar."
 
"I was...not one of the strongest in the hunter group. I think you were new? There were a lot of new cubs."
 
"Yes...I think I remember. You were nice to all of us."
 
"Mm. But not strong."
 
"No-one was."
 
Ermolai hummed again in agreement and sighed, closing his eyes and tightening his grip on Samuil's body. It felt good to speak his tongue again. Though Milo Gilt's little game of 'freedom' had been nothing but a joke, Ermolai was sure the man hadn't anticipated that he would find solace in a place such as this with one of his own.
 
He couldn't let anyone know. For now, he'd play the dutiful warrior in the hopes that Milo would offer him more freedom in the future. Perhaps, one day, he could figure out a way to leave this place and take the snoozing bear beside him with him. But for now, he'd keep it under wraps.
 
One day. One day he'd be free.