Warning: NSFW; erotic/smut content ahead. You have been warned.

Introduction

"May your spirit find peace with the Lord." Makoto Tachibana chanted with a gentle voice. He dipped his fingers inside a bowl filled with a harmless liquid used for purification. He stood above a prisoner whose eyes were close and whose face was facing the sky. Although, the "sky" was nothing more than a grungy, worn-out ceiling that threatened to crack anytime soon. But it would do.

The man couldn't have been older than mid-thirties. And yet his hair already had one or two silver hairs growing out of his head. Makoto traced the outline of the man's face, his subtle features dimmed by the little lighting in the room. His face was dark and sullen just like this cell. Cheeks gaunt and deprived of color. Lips chapped with its corners curved downward. Wrinkles and scars were like an ornament to his face, but an ornament that no one would call beautiful in the least. More powerful than those features, however, were his eyelids. They drooped like the muscles in his face. Makoto knew that the eyes behind them were dull, lost of all resolve. He knew that once he opened them after the Blessing Rite, that his eyes would have no shine in them. They would be as clear as that of a doll's. Even so, Makoto continued with the ritual. It was a requirement he had to fulfill.

He wanted to fulfill it.

"Reunite with your fallen family which stands beside Him." His finger ran over his nose and then his cheekbone. As he touched the man's face, he noticed something interesting, but not uncommon. His eyelids began to twitch, as if his touch stirred something in him.

"Be cured of all fatigue, disease and impurities." At some point, he realized what his touch was doing to this man. The more his smooth finger ran over his dry skin, the more he seemed to react to his touch. Makoto knew what he was probably thinking. He was probably thinking that his touch reminded him of a woman's caress. They all felt something like that. He ran his finger down his chin, past his Adam's apple. This was also part of the Blessing Rite. His finger travelled onto his collarbone and then fell toward his heart. Makoto made a circling motion with his finger, which was meant to trace his heart, where according to his knowledge, is where the soul is.

"Pray your tainted soul be spared from your sins." He didn't meant to, but his finger was so sensual against the man's skin, he could tell by his reaction. He began to repeat the Rite in order to conclude it, but the more he moved his finger, the more the man seemed to melt under his touch. His eyelids were twitching, threatening to flutter open and his tired muscles seemed to be reacting more and more. His breathing seemed a tad uneven. When he traced the side of his cheek, the man suddenly grabbed his hand and held it in place. He opened his eyes, longing and pleasure residing in them.

"May your spirit live on and seek salvation by His side." The Rite was incomplete. But Makoto didn't move his hand, and the man wouldn't allow him to move either. His fingers held his hand on his rough cheek, lightly feeling the skin, the joints, the nails of every finger. Everything about the way he felt his fingers was impure, the complete opposite of the Rite's prayer. The man brought his palm closer to his lips and kissed it the way he would kiss a woman's hand. Makoto did nothing but smile sadly.

Fortunately, the man was too focused on his hand to even notice.

Makoto promptly removed his hand from the man's face and looked at some point on the grungy wall. Not looking at the man, who now seemed to be conscious of his actions, Makoto heard a loud knock against the metallic door. A guard called out, "fifteen minutes before the battle starts."

"Understood," Makoto replied politely.

Listening as the guard walked away, Makoto suddenly sat next to the prisoner and began to pack away the items he had brought with him. A jar with holy water. The Book of Truth. Holy items that priests had to bring before beginning the Blessing Rite. Beside those items was a makeup kit, which mainly consisted cosmetics. A pack of vials with a red liquid to color the lips. A pink powder meant to create rosy cheeks. And a strange white powder that was imported from an exotic land. They were only used for cosmetic purposes and were particularly stylish in the region they came from. Although, these cosmetics were only intended for women to use, otherwise it would have been very emasculating for men. And here it was, sitting next to Makoto ready to be applied on this man's face. So much for fulfilling the Emperor's sadistic wishes.

But...

"There are only fifteen minutes left," Makoto said, bringing out the vials, the brushes and the small containers, "after you leave this cell, you realize that your chances of returning...are very small, don't you?" He set the makeup on a stool beside the man, who sat on an abandoned wooden stump that belonged in that cell. If only other prisoners had such a piece of luxury.

The man wasn't fazed about those news. But Makoto noticed a slightly red shade on his cheeks. He seemed slightly feverish. The man laughed and said, "isn't that why you do the Blessing Rite?"

Makoto smiled. "You're right." As he prepared the kit, he said, "I know it is a bit too late in the game for this, but if there is any wish you have, I will be happy to fulfill it for you."

"What?" The man looked at him quizzically. "Is this part of your job?"

"My job is to serve Him, " Makoto replied, "...but it is my personal endeavor to help those that need it, if I can." Makoto looked at the man, and he knew he couldn't resist his green eyes because the man averted his gaze. They all reacted like that.

"There are only a few minutes left," the man said, "can I confess before I die?"

Makoto smiled gently and stated, "Yes, of cour...mn!" Makoto's eyes widened when the man seized him by the arms and pulled him toward his body. The man then planted a rough, barely wet kiss on Makoto's lips. He should've seen that coming.

He should've seen it coming! The man's feverish temperature seemed to seep onto Makoto's body as well, because he began to immerse himself in the now, wet kiss that came from his own mouth. Their tongues intertwined wildly and savagely, Makoto's instincts plagued by desire to feel the other's tongue, while the man was plagued by the need of satisfying his own thirst. He sucked violently at Makoto's tongue and lips, savoring every drop and dribble that came from his mouth as if he were drinking water for the first time in years. Unfortunately for him, his heated impulse was already making them sweat. Unable to stand it, the man pulled his lips from Makoto's mouth and began to lick the sweat that had already begun to drip down Makoto's neck.

"Hn..." A quiet sigh escaped from Makoto's throat at the sweet feeling of the membrane against his sensitive skin. He wanted to talk but he couldn't find his voice. It wasn't until the man began to feel for his shoulders and pull down his white robe that Makoto found himself and pushed him away.

"I'm sorry!" The man hurriedly said, his voice panicked, "the truth is...your eyes remind me of someone I loved. The way you carry yourself...you're beautiful. Like a woman! I know this will sound insane but from the moment I saw you, I fell in love! Even though you're a man, and a priest at that, I couldn't help but feel this way for you! And I had to tell you before I died!"

Makoto said nothing. 'Like a woman...' He had said. Makoto smiled at the man, his hands still gripping tight at the muscles beneath his robe. Makoto knew exactly what he wanted. He grabbed the man's hand and placed it on his own cheek, sensually guiding it over his own smooth skin, as if tempting the man even more. Eventually the hand came to rest on his cheek and Makoto said, "your time is running out, and you only have one wish. What will you do?" His fingers lightly felt at the protruding tendons on the back of his hands.

The man was more than aroused. He wanted him. He didn't need to say something that was so obvious to anyone. Makoto knew this best. He knew he wanted to hold a woman before dying. Or at least something that resembled a woman. But there was no way he could do it in ten minutes. Makoto said, "there isn't enough time. But...I can help you feel good."

He suddenly kneeled in front of the man, who seemed confused by his behavior and caught on quickly. As Makoto placed his hands on the fly of his trousers, the man began to object. "W-wait!" He cried in a panicked voice, "but you're a priest! And a man! Don't you find this repulsive?"

Makoto knew he couldn't help it. His desire for a woman had manifested in him and thus he saw him this way for now. He had no right to judge him or the many men he had done this with. But in this feverish state between them, he was sure that the notion didn't even cross his mind. Makoto unbuttoned the fly of his trousers and spread the wings apart, not saying anything at first. The man's cock was already hard under the fabric. As Makoto touched the prisoners private area, the man flinched at his touch, both from the augmenting pleasure that his touch caused but also from the disgust he must have felt toward himself.

Makoto sighed and finally replied to his question. "Today," he began, "there are no boundaries. You are you and I am myself. Don't worry about anything else and don't hold back." He wondered who he was trying to placate, the man or himself?

To directly answer his question, Makoto said, "you're not repulsive. It is only natural." That was a lie. The teachings he had learned said the exact opposite.

It was a man's duty to hold back against forbidden temptations. Otherwise he wasn't a real man. This of course also went for women, who had much stricter duties. And he, who was a Priest, should've been able to do this with ease. So many years of training...and here he was, about to suck off yet another man. Yet another prisoner who saw him as a woman or some maternal figure. He didn't mind the notion, in fact it made him happy to know there were still redeemable qualities that he could give to the world without feeling guilty. Although most of his soul was tainted with sin that he knew that not even those "redeemable qualities" could save him from hell.

He was walking closer toward his doom as he grabbed the man's penis and took it out of his trousers. The man flinched momentarily as the priest wrapped his fingers around the hilt and began to move them slowly, up and down. The man had to hold himself upright so he wouldn't lose his balance. "Tch!" He groaned, "even though...I just got...purified."

Makoto felt a little bad. He was already tainting his soul which he had just purified. But then again, Makoto often wondered if he even had that power anymore. Since he himself was sick in the head. His soul was just as impure as his. Perhaps even more so.

It didn't take long, but the man's cock was hard, a clear liquid already pooling at the tip of the sprung up organ. The man yelped as Makoto touched him, he covered his face with his arm, hiding the panicked look in his face. It seemed Makoto's words had not gotten through to him. It was a bit strange to him, since the man had just kissed him moments ago and might've even fucked him had Makoto not stopped them. Makoto smiled lovingly and said in a reassuring tone, "if it's too hard for you to bear, then close your eyes. But I know this is your wish. This is what you want, isn't it?"

"Tsk..." The man replied, as if Makoto had seen right through him. But the evidence was clear to Makoto, it stood straight in front of his face, ready to release its lust. He didn't need to try to guess. "I just...want to know...something...hn!"

Makoto was still rubbing the man's lust as he answered, "yes, anything." His green eyes flashed with a hint of curiosity and concern. After all, he truly cared for people.

"I told you that...ngh...that I love you," the man managed to gasp, " ...do you...love me too?" His face twisted In a grimace as he tried to get the words out while keeping his voice calm.

At that, Makoto slowed the rubbing to a stop, making the man look at him in concern. Makoto didn't answer at first. He knew that if he answered, he would become even more impure, so it was best to remain quiet. But in the end, was that really the best choice? Could he really become more impure than he already was? Was there a point where his soul would become so black that it was beyond repair and salvation? He figured that it was. And bringing his own feelings into this moment would not make it easier for the prisoner. His death was a mere minutes away. He could at least do him this last favor...

Gripping the man's cock again, Makoto replied, "...yes, I do."

That, of course, was a lie.

But maybe he was a good liar. Perhaps his face was very charismatic and flawless. Or maybe the man was too naive (which seemed like an odd suggestion since it was rare to have naive prisoners, especially those who were older like this man). The man's face lightened at his words and the color in his face returned. "Thank you." Those were the last words he said before he allowed his body to relax at Makoto's mercy. He closed his eyes and, for the first time since he came here, seemed to be in absolute peace.

But the same could not be said for Makoto. He lied again. He was only stepping closer to his grave embellished with his sins. But he couldn't stop now. He positioned himself better, the man's erect organ still on hand, and brough his face closer to the man's swollen lust.

"Times up!" The guard yelled outside the cell. So the time had come.

By the time the guard had opened the door, Makoto had cleaned his face. The man was calm next to him, the cosmetics applied perfectly on his face. His face was white and pink with the powder and his lips were dyed with the red liquid from the vial. He was ready to go.

The guard eyed them suspiciously, disliking the ambient in the cell. But he didn't pay mind to it. Instead he said to the prisoner, "the battle will be starting soon. Follow me and don't try anything stupid. We'll chop off of your arms and still send you to the Arena anyway."

The man walked past Makoto, looking at him from the corner of his eyes. He subtly brushed his hand against his. There was something in it. It was a folded paper. He was giving him something. So this...was his real wish, wasn't it?

Makoto took the paper and hid it in the folds of his robe. The man walked past the guard, who had turned away from the door. Without paying much regards to Makoto, the two disappeared from Makoto's line of sight. Makoto knew that out of the two, only one would return. And from those two, it would be the guard.

Sighing with melancholy, Makoto looked at the paper he had just received. It certainly wasn't a gift for him, he knew. He unfolded the paper and admired the contents in astonishment. It was a drawing made with charcoal. The charcoal had smeared over the page, but the image remained beautiful. The image was that of a woman. A woman with long, waving hair, a serene face and a luscious body that any men would desire. Her hips were the same width as her full breasts and her waist was slim. Everything about her seemed nurturing. Any man would've claimed her for the most perverse and wrong reasons. But Makoto could see all the love poured into this drawing. This man had truly loved her, hadn't he? Makoto had never loved the man, but he knew that regardless of what he had said about him, his feelings only belonged to this woman.

What a shame that they would never see each other again.

Makoto gingerly folded the paper and hid it carefully. He picked up the vials and covered them with their respective lids. He sighed at the cruelty of this world. In this world—in this era—things worked in a certain way. It had for ages now. The system that existed now favored only those who followed its unjust principles and violently abolished those who opposed it. The Heretics. Because the resistance was prominent and had been out of control all this time, the system had devised a way to find Heretics before they even knew they were Heretics. The military was in charge of finding those who went in hiding.

Consequently, prisons filled up very quickly and thus the government had to find a way to deal with the problem. There had been a couple of solutions, like enslaving the Heretics. Public executions. Human trade. Sacrifices of children and infants. It was a dark era and still none of those solutions were enough to reduce the resistance.

Except for one.

Ironically, the Head Pope had suggested to the former Emperor one of the most brutal and inhumane ideas that remained to this day. All male Heretics—which were more prominent in the resistance than women or children—would be imprisoned in special cells hidden beneath large arenas and would battle to the death as a form of entertainment for the general public. It would serve as a way to reduce—or at least control—the resistance by getting rid of the stronger figures of the resistance. The men. It would also serve as a way to get public approval and bring down the resistance any way possible.

And it worked.

Since the system had remained intact for many years now, there had not been a single offense from the resistance. Sometimes Makoto wondered how long it would take for the resistance to die out, since that seemed to be the case.

Initially, Makoto did not understand why the Head Pope had suggested such a gruesome idea. It went against the essential teachings of the Religion. But later, everything made sense. The Religion had not been very popular back in those days, it was still growing in the Empire. It made sense that the Head Pope—who had earned that title with his ingenious idea—wanted to spread word of the Religion and had to gain the Emperor's favor in some way. And so he did. With his idea, the Religion was practically the official religion of the Empire. Almost everyone practiced it. It had been fused perfectly with the system, however, it's principles tainted by the unfairness created by the system. And in this manner, the Religion was a method to select the Heretics before they could flourish.

On an even lesser moral aspect, Makoto knew—like any priest alive in the Empire—that the Head Pope simply wanted riches and status. It was that simple. More than the principles, or the morals, or the sake of serving Him, the Pope wanted prestige. Men were forced to die on an almost daily basis because the Pope wanted to dress in expensive robes and jewelry.

But it wasn't like Makoto ever met the previous Head Pope—he had died ages ago. Albeit the new Head Pope seemed to be the same way, and didn't seem like he was going to revolutionize this travesty any time soon.

But at least Makoto had a profession.

He had trained and learned the Religion. It was his life, his essence. He had dedicated his life to the Religion since he was a prepubescent boy, thus he never forgot his own beginnings. No matter how much the system had twisted the Religion, Makoto still believed in its core principles. He believed in salvation. Forgiveness. Integrity.

He believed in making people feel happy in their last moments.

At least that was how he felt five years ago. Five years ago, he had been a different man, determined to make these prisoners wishes come true. But he only tainted his body and soul in the process, and now he could not even recognize the person he was now. All he could keep holding on was his resolve to make the wishes come true until the very end.

And still, he could only wonder what remained of the boy he had been a few years ago? Was he still around or was he unable to go back to the person he used to be?

Not bothering to think more about such nostalgic memories, Makoto grabbed his kit. He walked out of the cell and heard an explosion of shouts and hollers from the excited crowd.

The battle had begun.

Authors note: Hello :) so I have a lot to explain for this fic. For starters, I want to emphasize that this fic features SosukexMakoto. I'm a huge Somako supporter and I haven't seen many fics about them, so I made my own.

This fic is inspired by the Roman Empire age—with a ton of historical fallacies xD—I apologize in advance if there are any fallacies in this fanfic. naturally when I say "battles" I mean to say that the men battle gladiator style. Still, not everything I write in this fic is meant to be accurate because I'd rather just get to the story that worry about all those details.

I also wanted to mention that this fic is not for everyone. Even if you're aware that this is a rated M fanfic, there are a lot of string themes like death, rape, sexuality, religion, gay sex (which I think most of you dont mind since you're reading this fic ;D) and things like that. I will also try my best to be impartial and vague about religion because I don't anyone to think I'm bashing their religion. This fic in general was not made with that intention. So If this introduction bothered you, then maybe you shouldn't read xD

And finally, this story is very angsty (but there's also lots of fluff x) ). More angsty than "One Yesterday" (my other fic). so you have been warned of pretty much everything. Still I put a lot of effort on the planning for this fanfic and I really hope you like it! I have no intention of dropping my other works, but at least this one's official now. Enjoy!