A/N: My attempt at the Spartacus universe using beloved Bleach characters. I have no intention of copying the show, but I am taking some of my favorite elements, i.e. some of the language/environment and the structure of Roman gladiator society. I think this will be 9 chapters, 3 chapters dedicated to each couple I want to use, so chill your dicks 'cuz there will be varying degrees of smut. If you're a fan of the show, I think you'll enjoy this a lil more than the others just reading it for Bleach bad boys getting naked and killing stuff. Not particularly in that order.

This story will feature: Kenpachi/Urahara, Grimmjow/Ichigo, and Renji/Gin. Oh yes.

WARNING: Violence/blood/gore, admiration of the male form, male/male sexual acts, alcohol, varying degrees of ancient Roman debauchery.

Blood & Sand

First Arc, Part 1

The massive gladiator grunted as his rusted and blood-covered sword of twenty years went vertically through his opponent's skull. Blood rained around him, gushing across his exposed chest and face, but his eyes did not falter as he watched the dead man crumple to his knees, the body flopping to the ground.

The arena was absolutely deafening as the man breathed, the tangy metal smell of his opponent's blood making him lick his lips. He shook his head, his black hair dreadlocked with old crusted and newfound blood.

Today had been a day to put his name to the test. Fifty men set loose in the arena all with various weapons, some ranging from sickles to scythes to swords to chains to wooden sticks. Of course Kenpachi had drawn the piss of them all: a wooden beam barely thick as his wrist while most of his other opponents had been given shields and the swords and this last poor bastard, a mace.

Kenpachi ignored the cuts on his back: one of the gladiator slaves had managed to get him twice on his back with a cat-o-nine tails, the torturous nail whip cleaving the skin from his back.

But his body was covered in scars. The pain was acceptable. Welcome, in fact. This was who he was.

The crowd was still roaring its approval, men and women alike screaming his given name over and over as Roman soldiers came into the arena to begin clearing the dead bodies.

The governor stood from his special seat, his white and red robes glistening in the sunlight as he held up his hands, a hush falling over the crowd.

"My good people, I give you the new ferocious champion of Capua, the undefeated East Demon of Blood, Zaraki Kenpachi!"

The people began screaming and chanting again as the governor smiled broadly, his dark eyes on Zaraki as he stood amongst the carnage. His stomach rumbled: he had not had anything to eat in nearly three days and he had not seen water in almost two.

Sometimes Zaraki thought that was the best part of winning: not only did he collect lives, he was able to feast and drink and have nearly anything he desired from his Dominus, his master.

To the left of the governor was his Dominus' seat: he stood in clean white and green robes, his smile approving amongst the boisterous noise of his chanted name. Zaraki knew the man was pleased: this event would have his coin purse fit to bursting.

Zaraki watched his Dominus stand and applaud, his wife, the Domina, laughing at the attention being given their most expensive slave. He'd been bought as a boy, but he'd always been large with well-developed muscle, making him worth far more coin than the other children he had been sold with.

He'd paid his debt back a thousand fold in the years of training, but he was still not free. Kenpachi was a monster; he knew this, yet years being trapped in a house of politics and position had taught him to keep his ears open and his eyes watchful.

He was not nearly as stupid as his masters wished him to be. He was a devil, if not the devil himself, and if there was anything to be feared about the devil, it was his cunning.

He had only to impress the governor a few more times in the arena and undoubtedly he would be granted his craved freedom. He had highest favor with his Dominus, but even the Dominus could not set him completely free: only the governor of the province had that kind of mettle. Kenpachi was well-suited to the lifestyle: he had never known anything else. Ignorance was a star Kenpachi did not mind hovering above him, but to be a free man capable of making his own decisions of when to kill and be killed…Kenpachi thought of nothing else. He was a killer: he knew this, yet he was not a man to ever bite his tongue. The multiple scarred over lash marks across his back and legs was certainly enough testament to that. He was quick to temper and was challenged far too much in the ludus* to count the other gladiators he shared cells with brothers for long. That's why Dominus finally gave in and gave him his own private cell just to keep his "livestock from killing each other until they were supposed to be led to slaughter."

He was not sure how many years he'd been on this earth, but he was somewhere near thirty and covered in more scars than most gladiators, even having almost lost an eye two years ago to a fierce Nigerian by the name of Tousen. Multiple stab wounds, cuts, lacerations so deep he had nearly died ten times over.

Kenpachi could place his hand anywhere on his body and would not be able to come away with it without touching a scar.

He had lost count of how many times he'd nearly been sent to the after life.

But he refused to die a slave. No. It would never come to pass.

So if he had to bathe in the blood of ten million men, so be it.

Besides, even before he had been sold into slavery as a young boy, of what he could remember of his people, they had been a fighting breed.

His Dominus, Lord Aizen, said death ran in his very veins.

And as he listened to the crowd continue to bellow and chant, soaked in the blood of his gladiator brothers, he believed it.

"More wine for the table!"

"Get it yourself, you useless fuck!"

Kenpachi listened to the ranting and raving of his boisterous companions back at the compound. With the successful victory came plenty of food and wine for all the gladiators of the house of Aizen, and Kenpachi did not think it bad that his fellow gladiator brothers take the time to get piss ass drunk and hump the closest body. A few serving girls loitered about in barely any clothing, enticements for the men when they were through with food and drink.

Two had already tried to get on his lap, but Kenpachi shoved them off with a calloused hand that proceeded to drain a goblet of watered-down wine.

"Do the whores not suit you, champion?" a redheaded gladiator from the east of the Rhine cajoled, his ridiculous crimson hair plaited and trailing down his back, both sides of his head shaved clean by skillful razor. Most men chose to keep their hair short, but the obnoxiously drunk Red Man, Renji, was one of the few that had never cut his hair. It was to his ass like most of the women, but his tattoos were remarkable in that they covered his body just as scars covered Kenpachi's.

"They are as skinny and sickly as the bitch dogs that guard the gates," Kenpachi grunted, not at all interested in an underweight and underfed woman with soulless eyes. It wasn't their fault, they were in servitude, but the thought of taking one of them had always made his stomach turn.

"What of the weapons boy?" Renji said, slapping his brother's arm as he took a seat beside him, nearly spilling half his cup into his lap in his drunkenness, "A tighter ass you will not find in this hell pit."

Kenpachi grinned at his companion. They had fought like dogs years back when they were still children just barely starting to become men but over the years of watching countless brothers fall and still managing to stand alive had somehow given them mutual respect for each other. Respect had turned into a delicate string of trust and the Red Man of Capua was the only gladiator in the complex who dared punch or mock in humor towards the Demon of Blood.

"I forget the dogs of the Germanic tribes stick their cocks wherever they please," Kenpachi said, smacking his comrade on the back and laughing as he spluttered over his wine.

Renji just laughed harder, draining his cup before replying, "It is because our cocks are so big, brother, that we cannot help ourselves."

Kenpachi poured them both more wine and continued to laugh and enjoy himself as the two sat against the wall and watched a competitive scuffling match unfold before them between a new recruit with obnoxious orange hair and Grimmjow, a man who hailed from the same region as Renji. Although different tribes, they shared the same mother tongue.

"I'll fuck your corpse, you useless shit!" Grimmjow growled in the Germanic tongue. Renji laughed and goaded his German brother on, Kenpachi having spent so many years with Renji he'd learned the language quite well.

"The walls whisper that you already do, cousin!" Renji bellowed, getting the other men all riled up and laughing at the blue-head's expense.

The orange head, the spitfire from the far East, Ichigo, growled in the language of Zaraki's homeland, making him smile.

"That child has fire," Kenpachi mumbled in German, Renji nodding his head vigorously.

"They've set me to sparring with him nearly every day. What he lacks in skill he makes up for in determination. The boy will fill the arena's sand with blood one day."

The boys continued to beat each other senseless, knocking over one of the wooden tables, spilling plates of bones and grizzle as they clawed at each other like the animals they had been raised to be.

"I'll kill you with my bare hands," Ichigo roared in the language that few in the room understood. He'd been bought recently, but since his first day had had complications with the blue-haired brute known as Grimmjow, a man with little morals and even littler patience.

A goblet of wine went flying, splashing over the boys as they wrestled each other on the ground, Ichigo managing to pin the blue man down, his hands around his throat. The room roared in laughter and bloodlust, wondering if the rookie could take the blue beast who'd been within the walls for nearly six years.

Grimmjow rolled them, splaying the orange head's hands in a locking position, his strong thighs keeping the boy from kicking and flopping like a fish out of water. He screamed and spit, but Grimmjow just laughed and laughed before leaning down and kissing him.

The room screamed again, knowing the show was over, that once again Grimmjow had claimed another victim. Ichigo was biting at him, but it seemed to just make Grimmjow that much more aggressive.

"They are as loud fighting as they are fucking," Renji snorted, taking yet another drink of wine as he eyed the dark-haired weapons boy on the other side of the room. The slender younger man returned the gaze, the black choker around his neck revealing him to be a slave in charge of the weapons as well as the body.

He sank to his knees in front of Renji, already tugging at the leather loincloth most of the men wore in the heat of the summer, freeing a cock that was already starting to harden at the boy's proximity.

He eagerly feasted, sucking and licking at the Red Man's cock like it was a gift from Jupiter himself.

"Are you sure you don't want to try Shuhei?" Renji smirked, his hand not holding wine buried in the boy's thick black hair, "What is mine is yours, brother."

"I'm ready for sleep. You did not nearly drown in blood today."

Kenpachi clapped Renji on the back once, ready to retire for the rest of the night. He was sore and the hasty stitches on his back were beginning to itch. He stood, taking his leave and avoiding the obnoxious fucking of a blue and orange head not far from his feet, "Drink and fuck until you're content."

Renji laughed, the weapon's boy licking a trail up the Red Man's tattooed abs, "Then I am condemned to remain here until the afterlife."

"Kenpachi, Dominus summons you."

Kenpachi looked to the guard, sweat and dust covering his body, his practice opponent on the ground recovering from his last brutal attack. Thankfully these were simply sparring sessions or the useless nameless man would be dead.

"Anything to alleviate my boredom," Kenpachi grumbled, passing the guard into the hall of cells. He bathed and changed, knowing his master did not receive anyone who had not bathed.

He was led down another corridor and then passed off to another slave who led him into the room his master used for council and meetings. White marble everywhere and incense made his nose itch. He had never cared for the sickly sweet stuff his master's wife chose to burn in the confines of their personal home.

"Ah, the Demon," Aizen said with a small chuckle as he lounged on what looked like a small throne with servants attending, "You did well, Kenpachi. Very well."

Kenpachi simply nodded once, not sure what his master wanted. He didn't speak unless he absolutely had to, and most of the time Aizen enjoyed the sound of his own voice too much for it to ever be an issue.

Aizen smirked, "I'll be hosting a party the night after next in the governor's honor. I must thank you, Kenpachi, for lending me the means to gain access to such high ears."

"Domenus," Kenpachi mumbled, wondering why the hell he was here. He may have been Aizen's favorite for the moment, but that did not mean that he was in any way friendly with the man. What fuck did he give about a party for rich Romans?

"As he is so smitten with you, you will be in attendance. You will be given a proper bath with oils and new garb to cover that bull cock the gods gifted you with," he said with a wave of his hand, "You will not speak unless spoken to, and you will have the utmost respect for the governor and his family. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Domenus."

"Excellent. Ah, as reward," Aizen clicked his fingers and motioned to one of his favorite serving boys, a pale young man with a black collar, hair black as pitch, and alluring green eyes, "Ulquiorra is yours to do with as you see fit. I had the servants prepare a room for you on the upper villa. Do not forget my generosity, Demon of Blood."

Kenpachi simply mumbled 'Domenus' again before being led out of the room by Ulquiorra, the boy taking him up a flight of white marble stairs to a terrace above that had luxurious silk pillows and wine. Kenpachi watched the boy shrug out of his tunic and lie amongst the pillows, spreading his legs, waiting for the champion he was to play bedmate to, his fingers already slicking with oil from a jar and stretching his hole.

Despite how sad the boy's face looked, his cock was already dripping.

Kenpachi poured himself a goblet of wine, drinking half of it before saying, "You do this of your own will, not Aizen's?"

"I do," Ulquiorra said, running one of his delicate hands down his own smooth stomach and down over his cock, "not even the gods themselves dare take this opportunity away from me."

Well then. How could Kenpachi refuse such obvious adoration?

Kenpachi finished the wine before ripping off the bit of cloth covering his nakedness and falling into the pillows, positioning himself and ramming into the boy with all his pent up frustration. He hadn't fucked in months and boy servants were much harder to come by for sexual pleasure in the complex.

The boy gasped beneath him, his fingers digging into the flesh of Kenpachi's sides, but he didn't care. He soon had the emotionless boy screaming his pleasure as Kenpachi rearranged them and took him from the side, spreading the boy's leg up higher to drive deeper.

"More, champion! Give me more," the boy demanded.

Zaraki didn't like how mouthy the boy was becoming. He took orders from no one but his master because he had no choice. But this boy had no authority over him whatsoever.

He took the boy six times, even in unconsciousness.

When he was finished, he wiped his cock on one of the silk pillows and dressed himself, a servant girl in the corner holding more wine.

He took the entire jug from her, "When he wakes, see him to a bath."

The girl smiled, "I fear it will be a week before he can walk comfortably again."

Zaraki grinned at her, swallowing half the wine down, some of it not making it to his mouth and running down his chest. There was hunger in her eyes, "It may be longer. He goaded me."

"Are you still unsatisfied?" she asked, daring to lay one of her hands on his chest.

He grabbed her roughly by the neck, making her eyes go wide.

"I have no use for cunt," he whispered against her lips, almost touching, "When he wakes, see him to a bath."

He released her, the empty jug cracking on the floor as he left.

The party was boring and stupid.

Zaraki was forced to stand during the entire event, dressed in nothing more than a black and gold loincloth. Gold leaf had been rubbed into his oiled skin, giving him the appearance of a god. All who entered the room would stare, circling him, prodding him in the arms or chest or other areas that had Zaraki ready to break skulls.

And he could do nothing as they traced his scars, talked about him as if he weren't there and a human being. He was cattle on display, or more like a bull, if the women's conversation was anything to go by.

Thank the gods for small favors that Aizen had permitted him clothing. He had no need for shame of nakedness, but the incessant chatter about his cock was bad enough even in a loincloth.

"Ah, and here he is, the Blood Demon of the East," a familiar voice said, making his way into Kenpachi's line of site. He'd been staring ahead at nothing for so long he feared he might die of boredom, but the governor's voice was unmistakable and the smell of his body oils was so spicy Zaraki wanted to sneeze. He was a man well into his fifties with peppery hair and eyes that Zaraki would never trust. He was trailed by a young man with black hair and a face and stance born of nobility, a woman at his side, dainty, small, a breakable little dove. It was absolutely irritating when she asked her husband if she could touch the gladiator's scars.

"If you must," the snotty ass replied, the governor laughing at the woman's reaction to touching a gladiator's chest.

"Jealous, son?" the governor said, addressing the noble boy.

"Of this animal? Do not insult me, father," the boy replied, staring at Kenpachi with contempt, "He is a beast plucked from the mud and set to sport."

"Mah, this man was born in blood, not mud," a smooth voice interrupted, coming from Kenpachi's left. Kenpachi saw a slight, silver-haired man with incredible light blue eyes be embraced by the governor with joy and clasp hands with the son.

"Been a while, cousin," the Hanna woman said, kissing the silver-haired man on the cheek as he grinned with no teeth.

"We were beginning to think you'd gambled yourself to death in the empire," the governor laughed, patting the silver-haired boy on the back, "What brings you back to Capua, my boy?"

"I s'pose you could say sport, uncle," the silver man said, his arm linked in the Rukia woman's, which made the son's face look even more perturbed than before. The man had a Roman spear up his ass.

They talked back and forth, Kenpachi noticing that their robes were the most impressive out of anyone in the villa. Their jewelry was gold and they had an air about them that made Kenpachi's hand itch for a sword, but out of all of them, the silver-haired boy almost made him laugh a couple times: there was something off about him, and his words were so slippery it was obvious he was making fun of his cousin, the pompous man who would one day be governor like his father if the gods held favor for their family. Kenpachi did not know where the silver-haired nephew to the governor was from, but the accent was strange for a province of Rome.

"And of you, Gin? Are you going to gamble and fret what's left of your young life away?"

"Mah, uncle, ya d'unna trust yer only darling nephew? I'm perfectly content 'ta roam as it is."

"You said you were here for sport, but The Hollow Week is not yet upon us."

"Aye, 'tis not, but I've gotta get my bets in now."

"Betting on gladiators is distasteful."

"Ahaha, Byakuya, dear cousin, it's more than tha'."

"What do you mean?"

"Your nephew here seeks to bring misfortune upon his head," Aizen interrupted, entering the circle with a goblet of wine, his robes white and trailing to the floor, gold cuffs on his wrists as he grasped hands with the governor with a nod, "I'm more than happy to rid him of his coin purse forever."

"I do not understand, cousin," Rukia said, staring at Gin's smile.

"He bet one hundred gold coins on one of my gladiators for The Hollow Week. It is flattering that he finds my men so strong, but I do not think even the Red Man of Capua will survive the blood bath that awaits him there," Aizen said simply, taking another swig of his wine, "The debt will be substantial. In fact, Gin has agreed to be sold to my complex as a gladiator in training if he fails to pay off the debts when he loses."

"Mah, but if he does win, he's mine," Gin said, a big smile on his face, "I'm more than willin' 'ta collect on the bets now and leave with 'im tonight, Lord Aizen, that way when I win in a few weeks, it'll lessen the blow to yer pride."

"Well, if you were interested in a bed companion for the evening, you know the price," Aizen said, clapping a hand on Gin's shoulder, "It's quite a bargain. After all, you'll be sleeping with a god."

Gin's smile was slow, "And how can a human presume 'ta take on a god? I'll win his mind first, his body second."

The boy was cut from a different cloth. It was still a bit corrupt the way the system worked, but Kenpachi could tell Gin was not nearly as malicious or greedy as Aizen or the governor. How the boy was related to the stuck up bastards was beyond his understanding.

"Well, perhaps having him within arm's reach will tempt the purse strings to loosen sooner," Aizen said with mirth and a flick of his hand to a food slave, "Go. Have the Red Man bathed and brought back here to the villa."

The slave bowed and left quickly to do as bidden, the Gin boy smiling a smile that made Kenpachi think the boy might slit Aizen's throat even as he thanked the man for his unneeded generosity.

Not before me.

Kenpachi was dulled to his surroundings once again as music played and people laughed and talked of boring things. Kenpachi almost fell asleep but was brought back to the present when Aizen announced to the room that the Red Man of Capua was now on display for everyone's viewing pleasure.

Renji made his way forward in a black loincloth, his hair plaited down his back and his eyes questioning Kenpachi but he said nothing.

People swarmed him like an exotic animal on display: Aizen had not given the slave enough time to anoint him with oils and gold leaf, but Renji was still deceptively attractive. He was tanned golden from sun and one of the women swore that he had the eyes of a lion.

"He looks positively savage," one of the younger women said, running her hand down his sculpted chest to trace one of the tribal tattoos, "I've never seen a man marked like this."

Renji stood stock still, eyes forward, but Kenpachi could see from the corner of his eye how several of his muscles tensed: it was rare that gladiators were called on display in the villa, and the Red Man was not fond of the treatment at all. While some of the gladiators were flattered by it as it allowed them to gain favor, Renji was one of the few who'd rather be in his cell sleeping then indulging the rich Romans who had taken him from his home so many years ago.

"Only the strongest of his people bare those marks," Aizen remarked dully, like he was talking about the weather, "so imagine my shock when we plucked him from the slave market, a scrawny little thing wearing the marks of a man while barely a boy."

"Do they tell of his kills?"

The woman nearly jumped out of her skin when Renji made brazen eye contact with her, barely containing a smirk.

"They are the marks of a warrior," Aizen laughed, "but kills, my dear, there is not nearly enough skin on a human body for that kind of record-keeping."

"So how many have you killed then, Red Man of Capua?" another woman asked. It was the short, black-haired Rukia and her voice was teasing. She wasn't touching him, but she nudged the arm of the eyeless Gin by her side.

"Hundreds," Renji answered, his voice husky.

"More than the Demon of Blood?" she continued, smirking at Kenpachi.

"Maybe someday, but doubtful. Maybe I shall consult the gods."

A few of the patrons laughed. Kenpachi could barely contain a smirk himself. Even in uncomfortable situations, Renji had a sense of ease about him and a likeability that Kenpachi always had to work for.

"A gladiator with a silk tongue. Perhaps he should be freed and made to run for office," an older man laughed from the side as he sipped his wine, making the crowd crow with laughter.

"You bring shame upon my head, Baragan," the governor cajoled good-naturedly, holding up his wine cup and nodding towards an old friend, "May the Red Man and the Demon of Blood reign victorious in the glorious games to come!"

Everyone present cheered, excited for the Hollow Week which was several weeks away but was sure to be the highlight of the decade in terms of blood and carnage.

Music started up again and people began to mill once more, but Aizen slid a hand onto Gin's shoulder and moved him nearly right in front of Renji, a smirk on his face, "So here he is, the demigod you've placed all your coin on. What do you think now that you have him standing here before you and not in a pit covered in blood and lost souls?"

Gin's eyes set on Renji's, his face unreadable, his voice serious, "Mark my words, Lord Aizen, the gods show favor on this one."

"Ah, my nephew has prophesied," the governor laughed, so far into his drink he was much louder than needed, "his mother was a woman of mysticism in the East. I warned my brother against such union, and it seems he has inherited her savage gift."

"Is it the gods' favor, or yours?" Aizen prodded, once again playing with those he thought he could get one over on. Kenpachi was tired of the man's constant social climbing.

"Why can'na not be both?" Gin said, his smirk hiding his eyes.

The governor nearly split in half at how hard he was laughing and Kenpachi wanted nothing more than the man to fall over from drink and knock his head so that he would not have to stand here and listen to the insanity any longer.

"Dionysus himself has never laughed so hard. I think I'll reward you for such entertainment, nephew. Dear Aizen, give the pup a night with his champion. No worries of coin, mind you."

"Mah, Uncle, ya don'na have 'ta do tha' –"

"Nonsense, my boy! Consider it a gift in thanks to your homecoming!" the governor felt along the side of his robe, looking confused before shouting to the room, "Kisuke! Kisuke, you useless boy, where are you?"

Kenpachi watched a blonde man slide out from behind a pillar, his attire nothing more than simple green hakama pants with bronze bracelets that clanked around his ankles and wrists, the mark of a noble's slave. He lifted his head when the governor ordered him to return to his family's villa to retrieve payment for the evening, the boy's eyes a bored, deep gray.

Kenpachi watched him go, his gait in no hurry, his head bobbing slightly side to side as he vanished.

"Really, there are days I wonder why you have not sold him to another house, father," Byakuya said, disdain clear in his voice, "the man is clearly not right in the head."

"Kisuke's a good man, cousin. We grew up ta'gether, how can'ya say tha?" Gin rebuked, his voice even but Kenpachi could tell that the silver-haired boy was defensive towards the strange beauty.

"My father's charity knows no bounds. Do not put me or yourself on the same level with orphaned whore trash, cousin."

"If 'ya ever spoke 'ta yer slaves, 'ya might learn that a few of 'em are smarter than us."

"Blasphemy. I've had education, as have you."

"And they've had a whole other kind'a education we'll never have. Dun'na talk 'bout Kisuke like tha' ever again."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind, boy lover," Byakuya said scathingly before bumping shoulders past his younger cousin, "you find favor with any pretty slave."

Gin just smiled after him as the crowd continued to disperse and the governor and Aizen left to talk and drink more, Gin's eyes narrowing slightly.

"Someday I'm'a look down on his corpse and laugh."

Renji let out a grunt of laughter, unable to help himself. Even Kenpachi offered the boy a predatory grin.

"I wish I could send him int'a the arena 'ta face ya, but he'll never leave the confines of his cushy station. He's all bark and no bite, ya know?"

"Should not cousins be as brothers?" Renji asked, wondering if he was even in his rights to be speaking freely at this point. He figured since the governor was paying for Gin to have time with him, it was fair.

"Not these cousins," he said with a smirk.

It didn't take long for Kisuke to return with a small amount of silver coin for Aizen, Kenpachi's eyes straying towards the strange slave as he handed the money to Aizen. He didn't bow as was customary, which was strange in itself.

"Did your mother drop you on your head when you were born, slave?" Aizen drawled, staring at Kisuke like he was a flea bitten dog, "Show respect. Bow to me."

Kisuke inclined his head, his bangs falling into one eye as he watched Aizen before smiling slightly.

"I bow only to the gods in prayer. Are you a god, Lord Aizen?"

"Forgive him, Aizen. My uncle spoils him rotten. He is as a brother," Rukia chimed in, sweetening Aizen up with a few bats of her lashes, "and he was not dropped just once."

A few people laughed but Kisuke was no longer interested. Instead, he was staring at one of the intricately carved pillars and swaying slightly side to side.

"The gods punish him for some misdeed; he does not seem of able mind."

"It comes and goes," Gin said, defending the house slave, "he is talented in numbers an' works well wit' his hands."

"His hands, you say?" an evil glint coming into his eye, "Well, I'm sure those here would like to see your slave pay tribute to the champion of Capua, the Demon of Blood."

More than a few people overheard it and began to whisper. It wasn't uncommon for Aizen to punish slaves in bizarre ways, and this was one way Kenpachi was sure Aizen aimed to humiliate the governor in a passive aggressive way of getting back at Kisuke for his disrespect.

"Entertainment!" the drunk governor slurred, "are we to parade our slaves all night, Aizen?"

"The champion deserves tribute," a silky-voiced woman said from the crowd, swirling her goblet, "I would not mind seeing it with my own eyes."

People continued to murmur and nod, the room getting worked up. Kenpachi was wary but when he looked the Kisuke boy in the eyes, he wasn't looking back. No, he was staring at Aizen, his head slightly cocked to the side, his voice humming.

"Hnnn, and what would you have me do, Aizen-SAMA?"

Aizen smirked at the lowly lunatic, "Why, get on your knees and worship him, of course. Is he not one of the gods?"

"Father-" Rukia began, but the governor hushed her with a drunken hand waving in her face.

So much for family loyalty.

Kisuke made a humming noise again before walking in front of Kenpachi. He made brazen eye contact, his grey eyes like storm clouds over the cliffs. He slunk slowly to his knees, never breaking eye contact, his hands running smoothly up both of Kenpachi's thighs.

Kenpachi couldn't move, couldn't look away. The boy was some kind of demon to have him so hard with want already.

Kisuke licked his lips as he moved the loincloth out of the way, a few women in the room gasping at the size of their champion.

Kenpachi felt like nobody else was in the room as Kisuke leaned forward, licking a bold stripe up the half-hardened cock.

"I pay tribute to the savior of Capua, the Demon of Blood," he murmured, grabbing a hold of Kenpachi's cock with his left hand as he began to stroke while placing his tongue at the slit.

Kenpachi couldn't help but roll his head back, his body staying rigid as the boy teased him.

"I pray for his seed to cleanse my lowly throat," he continued, popping the head into his mouth for only a moment before his tongue snaked away again with several sturdy flicks of his wrist on the shaft, "I pray to be covered in his glory, as he seeks glory in the arena."

Kenpachi growled deep in his throat, making some of the onlookers twitter nervously but nobody looked away, not even Aizen.

Kisuke hummed, taking his cock deep in his throat, and Kenpachi could no longer help himself as he let out a loud roar, grabbing the slave by the hair and tugging, tugging, tugging.

Kisuke obliged, sucking and bobbing at a pace the likes of which Kenpachi had never seen nor felt, as if this were a dream world where the son of the goddess Venus had tempted him away from his very flesh and bones.

Kisuke took him deep in his throat and clenched.

His balls tightened, and he released, riding the shock as Kisuke's throat muscles rung every drop.

He pulled away, licking his lips predatorily before laying a single pecking kiss at the tip of Kenpachi's re-hardening cock.

"More," somebody breathed, a lower ranking government official said, his pudgy hand beginning to fondle himself, "Make them do more, Aizen."

Kenpachi fought the urge to groan: the slave had already nearly taken him to his knees, and even though he was beginning to re-harden, when he took the boy he didn't want it to be in front of all these bloody, sadistic Romans.

Kisuke let out a blissful sigh, his voice humming once more as he turned over, arching his back on his hands and knees, Kenpachi's hands practically shaking, his teeth aching, to rip the satiny pants away from the slave and fuck him until he couldn't move for a year, until his voice was taken away from his body permanently.

"What is your wish, Aizen-sama?" Urahara hummed, smirking at the Domenus trying furiously to hide an erection.

"Enough for one night, I presume?" Aizen said with a raise of an eyebrow and turning to have his cup refilled with wine, "I have prepared other entertainment for the evening."

He took a long sip from his goblet before clapping his hands and music started up, lutes and drums as gorgeous shimmering dancers swirled into the room, making all the drunken Romans coo and call in joy.

Kenpachi watched Urahara stand up, a slight smirk on his lips as Gin approached him and whispered something in his ear. Urahara laughed, which made Kenpachi's dick stir again. Fuck, what was this sorcery?

"I believe that is more than enough entertainment for the evening. I would like to retire for the night, my lords," the Rukia woman said with a smirk, looping her hand through Kisuke's arm. They whisked away, leaving Gin to smirk at an irritated Aizen.

"Well then," Aizen said, turning towards Gin, an elegant eyebrow raised, "seems the gods show favor on you this night, Gin-kun. Your favorite slave did not lose his tongue and you have bought the tongue and hands of one of my prized gladiators for the evening."

Renji stepped forward, nodding his head slightly at the silver-haired man that had bought him for the evening. Kenpachi was actually jealous: it was obvious the silver-haired man had more than physical affection for the Red Man. Kenpachi wondered if the silver tongued man would be able to tame Renji.

Gin smirked, "Aye, Aizen. Indeed they have."

*Ludus: the living compound of a master and his gladiators. The master, his wife, and servants live in a lavish part of the ludus and then there are chambers/dungeouns/training grounds for the gladiators.

*Domenus: the master of the ludus, the man with the money. He owns all the gladiators of the ludus as they are bought as slaves and raised/trained in the ludus to be gladiators. I have made Aizen the head of the most famous ludus in the city of Capua (Capua being the main city in the show). Domena is the master's wife, who has not been introduced yet.

If there are any other terms I used that you might not be familiar with, feel free to comment and I'll get back to you about it. I really recommend watching the show: I'm an ancient history buff and they stay very true to the Roman culture of the time, although the story itself is based on legend ;)

If you're interested, you can watch the entire Starz Spartacus series (Blood and Sand, Vengeance, and Gods of the Arena) online at 1 channel dot com for free. Till next time. -TPP