For Mature readers only.

Warnings: Contains non-consensual sex. Please do not proceed if you are uncomfortable with such content.

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Marth sat on the bench, sticky with a fresh film of sweat. His training was more rigorous than he originally planned, but if he didn't work himself harder, he'd soon find himself in the lower ranks amongst the other brawlers. He wasn't in the best shape coming into the competition, but he knew that as a veteran he had to at least rank higher than the new recruits.

His agility was great and not many could beat him at close range combat with his one-handed sword. All it took was a quick counter for him to knock out the heavyweights of the contest.

But there was always one man that seemed to pick up on Marth's technique faster than anyone else, and that man was why Marth trained himself extra hard each day to stay ahead in the league.

"Oh, you're done in here, right? Then it's my turn to train." Marth turned to the voice behind him in the locker room, immediately recognizing the other swordsman even without his usual blue tunic. Ike had opted for a simple tight-fit shirt, one of the many provided to all the contestants by Master Hand. Marth, however, preferred to train with the same royal attire as he would in a match, just to make sure nothing was off during the real deal.

"The simulation room is all yours, Sir Ike. Please just give me some time to pack up my things before you-" Ike pulled down his pants to reveal some black shorts, and tossed them off to the side. "-start undressing." With a sigh, Marth bundled up his things in his arms and made his way out. There was nothing wrong with Ike's actions, but Marth did not want to see the other's build. It only made him compare with his own slender frame, something he could never get his mind off of when he saw the younger man.

"You're two different people, Marth! It's fine if you can't build anymore muscles, you're still a fine swordsman!" Link's words echoed in his head as he thought of the time he consulted the left-handed swordsman. The elfin man was ranked first for the time-being and rightfully so. His knowledge and experience on the battlefield, in addition to being a fellow sword-wielder, has made him Marth's mentor for this competition. Unfortunately, Ike was making the prince's objective of top ranks much harder. He had the perfect body to make effective use of his heavy sword, and he was picking up new tricks from every battle to make him the top newcomer this season. Just the other day, Marth fell victim to his own famous counterattack, not expecting Ike to know how to use it on him.

Marth scowled as the memories of his loss came back to him, the most vivid being the smirk on Ike's face as he watched Marth fall off the castle walls.

"I've got to beat him next time."

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Ike was exhausted from training. Target practice always took a lot out of him since his aim wasn't the best. But he knew he couldn't stop just yet. Going into the archives, he sat down at the main computer terminal, looking up files from past competitions. He opened one of the video files, and watched the screen recreate a historic battle scene.

It was a match between Sheik and Marth. Both quick on their feet, the battle was fast-paced and left little room for error. Ike analysed the battle sequence, taking special note of everything that Marh did right. When the match came to an end and Marth was declared the victor and champion of the competition, Ike smiled and moved onto the next video.

"I'll beat him again next time."

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"What do you think happened?" Peach was on the sidelines as an observer to the fight between the blue-haired swordsmen. She looked up to Marth for sometime and liked to go to the other royal's matches as a learning experience.

"I don't know... I barely saw anything!" Zelda's hands were fists as she tried to figure out what was wrong with the match. The clock was working just fine, but what confused everyone was the time it froze at.

22 seconds.

All it took was 22 seconds, and Ike had finished off all three of Marth's stock. Rather than the usual applause and cheering, the entire crowd was silent. Ike was declared the winner, but by then he had already left the stage.

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"Didn't I tell you to prepare yourself?"

The prince could feel himself burning up, both from humiliation and anger. He didn't want to believe what had just happened, but all records would show that Ike, the new swordsman of the season, had finished off a top veteran in a mere 22 seconds. But the monarch knew his manners.

"Congratulations, Ike. You officially gained the title of top newcomer."

"I think I got that reputation a long time ago, though."

Marth's frown immediately deepened, and all he could do was hold himself back from punching the other man on the spot.

"So what'd you think of the match? I like to hear feedback." Ike closed in on the royal from behind, who was fumbling with the buttons on his tunic as he shook with rage.

With a deep breath, Marth answered "It's as if you knew my every move and all my weaknesses. You were a true warrior and deserve a great deal of credit." The tunic slid off and he folded it neatly before placing it into his cubby.

"I annihilated you."

SLAM!

Before he knew it, Ike had pushed Marth into the walls, not giving him an inch to even breathe.

"I-Ike! What are you doing! LET GO!"

"I annihilated you, Marth. Don't you think I deserve more than just credit?" The obvious size difference left Marth struggling under the weight of the other male. His arms were held behind his back as the other man breathed into his ear. "There's something that I've been wanting even before the competition started, and I won't stop till I take what's mine."

The younger male started to lick the monarch's ear, then travelled downwards to his neck, shoulder blade, and his spine. Marth gasped as he felt the light touches on his back, twitching whenever Ike hit one of his more sensitive spots.

"Was this your plan all along...? To destroy my pride and then have your way with me? That's low." The words were filled with venom but were no effect on the mercenary.

"If you don't like it, then try defeating me in a real match. But until you do, you're beneath me and mine to play with as I wish."

"How does that even- Ah!" Ike's hand had found it's way to the front of Marth's body, caressing his lower half harshly, making sure the prince felt every movement.

"You don't have the right to refuse, Prince Marth. You won't even be able to take out one of my stock as you are now. In a way, I'm helping you regain your fighting spirit." Marth's pants were pulled down even lower and Ike moved his other hand to the find a penetrable entrance.

"AH!" One finger, and then shortly two. Even with his freed limbs, the prince's body refused to respond as he wished. The painful pleasure of being touched both front and back was taking over his command and left him a panting mess underneath the other swordsman. "No... stop... Ike... w-why are you doing this!"

Ike squeezed at Marth's sensitive organ and after a sharp cry, he let a white fluid empty onto his palm. The soldier grinned and held the monarch's chin with his wet hand. "Because, Marth. I want you. Not as the way you are now, but as the way you once were." A finger slid into Marth's mouth and he tasted his own savoury essence. He wanted to throw up. Tears slowly streamed down his face as another finger invaded his back entrance, twirling around and exploring his insides.

"You're pathetic right now, Marth. You're going to be taken in a locker room by the man that crushed your pride." The fingers were out, but Marth could feel something bigger push against his hole. There was little warning before the thing was shoved into him, and all he could do was bite down on his lips till they bled to stifle a cry. But Ike didn't mind; he pounded at Marth until the royal eventually gave up his little rebellion and called out in pain and pleasure. A few moments later, the mercenary stopped after letting himself go inside the monarch.

Bruised and battered was a fitting way to describe Marth as he fell to the cold floor, fluids flowing out of him from every possible region. He couldn't think straight. Everything had happened in such a short time, but one thing was certain.

"I'm going to beat the shit out of you next time."

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"So Marth! How does it feel to have defeated Sheik and claim the championship for this season's Super Smash Brothers?"

"It feels great! I've worked hard to get here but I still can't wait for the next challenge!"

"Anything else you'd like to say to aspiring competitors out there?"

"Hmm... Not much, but if you're going to be the best, you'll have to know your opponent's every move and every weakness! But I guess you can't really do that unless you obsess over them day and night..."

"Is that advice that you're giving to the audience?"

"Well, it'd be hard to achieve without developing some unhealthy obsession or love interest with your opponents, so no, don't take that advice!"

"And there you have it, the champion for this season! So to you folks back home, if you ever want to fight Marth and our other top competitors, sign-up starts next week!"

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END.