Tine plucked another blade of grass, stripped it into three parts, and wove them together to form a ring. He idly looked over the field, considering those who were participating in tonight’s match. Mostly there were year-tens, which was to be expected being they were in their final year and preparing to go out into the world, but there were also a few of the larger year-nines. The year-eights were not included in the sparring lineup, even though they were expected to be present, which is why Tine sat in the grass, watching, sort of. He was not really interested in the sparring, or in the Imperials, who would be gone in a few short weeks, never to be seen again.

Tine had already expressed an interest in becoming a temple guard, and Leal, his class-advisor, told him he was well on his way to his whites. In fact, Leal had already increased Tine’s workload to reflect his interest.

Out on the field the contestants for this round lined up. On one side were four of the five Imperials who had arrived a few days before, on the other were the four students who had been chosen to engage the Imperials this round. Tonight the weapon was staff. It was the first weapon the boys who came to the school learned, often mastered before the boys were tall enough to serve in the kitchens. Tine wasn’t sure when the Imperials learned it, but it seemed that the Imperials were always better than the students in these events. Although, so far, the score was tied, but Tine knew the Imperials would win. They always did.

The fifth Imperial — the one with long black hair — sat in the row ahead of Tine and two boys to the left. Tine watched him from the corner of his eye while weaving another grass ring. The Imperial kept looking back. Tine smiled and nudged Aiden. Aiden looked questioningly at Tine. Tine grinned then slipped one of the grass rings onto his best friend’s finger. Aiden smiled the smile that Tine had grown to love, the one that moved them beyond friends to brothers.

The Imperial scowled at them. Aiden blushed and returned his attention to the field, but Tine scowled back at the Imperial and made a rude gesture. The Imperial snarled, curling his lip and narrowing his eyes. The image prompted Tine to laugh aloud and his laughter caused the instructor sitting next to the Imperial to glare in his direction. Aiden elbowed him in the ribs for bringing unnecessary attention. Tine could not help himself and continued to giggle. Finally, the instructor, Jivan, stood up and came to stand in front of Tine.

“You find this amusing?”

Tine burst out into a fresh bout of giggles, but shook his head, contradicting himself.

“He’s not usually like this, sir,” Aiden said to Tine’s defense.

Jivan arched a single eyebrow, “Really?”

Tine began hiccupping, which just made him giggle more.

“I think you need a lesson in reality. Up on your feet,” Jivan told Tine.

“Yes sir,” Tine managed to gasp out between giggles and hiccups. His grass rings fell to the ground at his feet as he stood. His shoulders still shaking from his giggle fit. Tine did not argue, like all the students he learned early that arguing was an exercise in futility when it came to the instructors. They were always right.

Jivan led Tine over to where the students were resting between bouts. “Tine has agreed to give a demonstration of his skill with the staff.”

“Has he now?” Yani, the staff instructor, asked.

Jivan glared at Tine, who had not stopped giggling. Tine nodded as crimson inched up his cheeks.

“Well then I suggest you pick yourself a stave, then, Tine, while I go see which of the Imperials would like help you with your demonstration.”

Tine headed over to the staves and picked each of them up, testing for balance, weight, and length. He found one he liked with little trouble and gave it a few swings. Satisfied with the stave’s whine he stripped off his outer clothing to stand waiting in just his smalls. About that time, Javin called him to the center of the clearing. Standing behind Jivan and stripped to his smalls as well was the Imperial who had scowled at him. Tine felt the sillies swell again and another bout of giggles escaped. The Imperial scowled again. They faced each other, bowed, and stood at the ready. Jivan held them there for several long minutes, while one glared and the other giggled, then he signaled ‘go’.

The rhythmic tapping began, interspersed with deep-throated grunts, and, eventually, heavy breathing. The Imperial worked his way into the Tine’s guard close enough to get a whiff his scent. His nostrils flared and the youth missed a simple block. Their eyes locked for a second and Tine saw the dark pools come alive with color.

Tine’s heart raced, and not just from the exertion of the fight. He swung his stave wildly and managed to knock the Imperial off balance. Follow through required that Tine attempt to pin his opponent to make him yield, to submit. Pressing their bodies tightly together on the ground Tine grunted out, “Give?”

The Imperial lifted his hips, pressing his fullness hard against Tine’s groin, “Give what?” then he rolled, taking Tine with him.

Not quite sure he understood what had happened, Tine managed to wrap his legs around the youth, causing his buttocks to come in contact with his opponent’s crotch again. The youth ground his erection against Tine. The youth’s hands were planted firmly on either side of Tine’s head. Tine bucked in an attempt to dislodge his rider, but that just caused the other boy to grind him harder.

“Give?” he asked Tine, who shook his head in response. The youth’s eyes sparkled now and Tine felt himself falling in them. Then the youth grunted, his back arched, and his eyes fluttered.

The sudden feeling of dampness surprised Tine. He made a small, satisfied grunt and flipped his opponent, sitting purposefully on his softening member. “Give?” he asked softly, his voice almost a caress. His opponent blushed, but did not answer.

Tine felt someone pull him up. Then his opponent was on his feet. Jivan declared the match a draw. His opponent smiled. Tine smiled back. Then they each went to their side of the clearing rejoining their mates.

Jivan turned Tine over to Alfe, a year-ten, who laughed at his ‘condition’. “You did well against him, Tine,” Alfe told him as they walked back to the dormitory building. “You know they will count that as a loss, right?”

Tine shook his head.

Alfe laughed, “You made him loose control. Those guys are taught to be in control all the time and they expect people to be afraid of them. It’s one of the reasons they come here, you know, to learn that not everyone will cower before them.”

“Really?”

“Yep, now lets get you cleaned up.” Alfe said as they entered the baths, “They know they aren’t supposed to um… do that… on us.”

Tine blushed as he unwrapped his small clothes, “I didn’t mean to make him…”

Alfe laughed again, “Of course you didn’t, I mean, with all that rubbing and bucking and grinding the two of you were engaged in. Jivan had to break you up before the poor fellow totally lost control and took you right there.”

“Ew,” Tine said as he began heating his bath water.

“Make sure you wash those smalls, too,” Alfe warned him after Tine slid into the hot water. “Then get yourself to bed, your year should be heading up here anytime now.”

“Thank you, Alfe.”

“It’s no big deal. Someone did the same thing for me not too long ago.”

Tine heard the door close and he sank into the warm embrace, remembering the scent and feel of the Imperial. And his eyes, Tine shuddered as his body found release just thinking about those eyes.

Much later, the other boys entered the dormitory room, talking excitedly about the boys who were picked to spend more time with the Imperials. Tine smiled as he heard Alfe’s name mentioned, then he rolled over and went to sleep.