Spartans are trained to fear nothing. But this was beyond anything the warrior had ever been prepared for. Perhaps that last spirited drink hadn't been a good idea.
The warrior, Arqus, looked around him. The noise was deafening, the smells sweaty and strong with liquor, and the people crushed in on him horribly. He'd never seen the like. They thrashed their bodies around and against each other in what he could only describe as controlled chaos.
It reminded him of sparing with his fellow warriors. They whirled and twirled and clashed against each other with force and grace till it was hard to tell if they fought... or danced.
They dressed funny. All in black from head to toe. Pale skin. Black kohl around their eyes, even coloring their lips and fingernails. Men and women alike. All fighting and dancing together, the females just as fiercely as the males. In some cases, they were even more aggressive. The warrior smiled. This place was foreign to him, and many things were very strange, but it was more like his home than first met the eye. He was Spartan. He would adapt to his situation and conquer whomever he must to return home.
One particularly strange looking woman only a few steps away caught his eye. Dressed in the shortest skirt he'd ever seen of some shiny black material with the same type of material covering her breasts, her creamy skin beckoned to him. She was dressed so a man could undress her as he desired. At least, that was his opinion until she punched a thin man in the jaw before kicking him in the privates. He doubled over in pain and the warrior couldn't help wince for the man.
"Just because I agreed to dance with you, doesn't mean I agreed to fuck you." She had to yell to be heard above all the noise. When she whirled around, she slammed straight in to him. Her face smacked into his chest and she stumbled back. The warrior grabbed her arms to steady her. Slowly, she raised her head, her eyes growing larger buy the second. "Oh. My. God."
Jet had never seen such an impressive chest. She looked up into the steel gray eyes of the man she'd slammed into in her hasty retreat, then back down his naked chest to his equally naked abdomen. She'd often heard the term "washboard" to describe perfectly rippled abs, but she'd never actually seen proof that term warranted existence.
Until now.
"Hello beautiful." She mumbled under hear breath. "You look like you stepped off a movie set. Are you shooting at the lot next door? I didn't think you were allowed to wear your costumes off the set."
At his confused look, Jet waved it off. It didn't matter as long as he was here looking all oh-so-good-to-eat. If she was going to spend the night with hands on her body, she'd much rather it be hands that belonged to someone who didn't repulse her.
This guy...
Dayum! He was built!
But dressed in some kind of Greek or Roman costume? What was up with that? He totally didn't fit in at The Dungeon. He wore a crimson skirt covered with metal armor and a crimson cape flowed down his back. He was the epitome of every male she'd ever lusted after. This night was definitely full of possibilities.
Jet pressed closer against him and licked one flat nipple on that impressive chest. The resulting rumble from said chest thrilled her to her clit. Her pussy contracted and a rush of fluid tickled her entrance.
She looked up at him and trailed her hands over his chest and down his abdomen. His cock was hidden by the armor below his waist, but she found a space between the plates and her fingers grazed hard dick.
"Seems we're thinking the same thing." His only response was to raise an eyebrow, but his arms closed around her. So he wasn't a man of many words. She could live with that.