Demetrius still feels a bit odd as he walks with his kynodesme, but he cannot understand why. He has worn one since he was 12 and first started getting man-hair over his phallus. His muscles had a pleasant post-workout ache to them and all he can think about is getting into the hot soak in the thermae.
"Funny," he thinks "I don't remember working out that hard today. I wonder why I ache so much? Perhaps Aaias threw me around a bit hard last night!" he chuckles. But that, too was hazy in his mind. It was like a fog permeated his thoughts from before getting up from Marius' table.
"No matter," he continues, "the thermae will take care of it!"
***
Within the body of Demetrius, a docile Derek is literally along for the ride. He feels the intense rush of testosterone from his newly ripened manhood and it is intoxicating him, with the scent from his musky armpits and balls helping to create that wonderful fog in his, and Demetrius' thoughts.
Or should it be "their thoughts"? Derek's soul and Demetrius' identity are slowly beginning to fuse together. The magic of this place will allow Derek to actually be Demetrius completely once he gives his soul over to being a powerful wrestler. Only when Derek's soul is fully thinking, feeling, acting, and fucking like the Greek wrestler he now is will the two be one. At that moment, Derek's soul will become Demetrius' and he will only be Demetrius! One thing that will help him to forget and to fuse is fucking. The ultimate act of manhood will reinforce that he is now truly Demetrius and that his soul should be too. It also will feel very good!
***
Demetrius comes around the corner to the edge of the palé. He stops to watch the wrestlers training and his eyes fall on his lover Aaias. Aaias is a bear of a man, descended from the tribes of Syracuse, of 22 summers. His skin is a darker olive, befitting the hotter climate in the south. Like Demetrius, he is very hairy and muscular, with broad shoulders and powerful arms; but not quite as much as Demetrius. Unlike Demetrius, he wears his hair long and shaggy, along with his beard, which more befits his peasant upbringing as well. He wrestles too in a different fashion than the Athenian, with a technique more like the Phonecians than the Greeks. This makes him a formidable foe in the ring. His phallus makes him quite the foe in the bedchamber as well!
Demetrius feels the powerful stirring in his loins that only his lover can bring upon him. It is a visceral reaction, but one that threatens to tear his kynodesme, and not for the first time. He also does not want to interrupt the training by going out again to "wrestle it off", especially since he seemed to remember Marius reviving him from a blow of some sort. Again, fog and haze is clouding Demetrius' mind. "What an odd day..."
Sighing lustfully, Demetrius continues down the cool stone hallway and into the thermae. There, other men are standing naked talking with each other while the slaves use their strigls and sandalwood-scented olive oil to remove the dirt and sweat from their bodies. Demetrius knows that he stinks at the moment, and probably still has a lot of dirt on him from the ring, even after Marius' wonderful massage. It would not be right to go in the thermae like that and foul the water! Thermae are for cleaning, but not for removing sweat and dirt; oil and a strigl are for that, with a rinse from the bucket. Thermae are for the cleaning of the soul: for soaking and relaxing, talking, doing business, playing games and gambling, and sometimes even fucking around (that usually happens in one of the heated chambers off the thermae however!).
Demetrius removes his kynodesme and takes his strigl from the wall as there is no slave free and begins to rub the oil on himself. The oil is purposely very thin and runs easily into his body hair. He starts with his arms and legs, then his chest and shoulders, then under his arms, his crotch and phallus, and lastly his buttocks and lower back.
He then carefully takes his strigl and draws it across his taut muscles. The odd feeling of newness continues, but he does not even bother to question it. Working across his chest he finds the sensation of the metal scraping through the thick black hair to be soothing, and also very erotic. He thinks to himself that the Lady Leonita will be in for a treat tonight with how horny he is feeling. He carefully flicks the strigl away from the other men so that he does not foul them with the oil, dirt, sweat and old skin from his body. Continuing, he moves down his torso, then onto his powerful thighs, making short strokes that get at the skin without pulling on his man-fur. He works his way quicly down his legs, removing the oil expertly, leaving the skin clean and supple. This is not a process that Demetrius likes to linger on especially when he is doing it for himself; the thermae are much more fun!
Standing back up, he works down his arms from the shoulders to the wrist. Demetrius then lifts his arm to run the strigl in his armpits and gets a heady rush of musk and sweat. Again, he feels a strong stirring in his loins, but with no kynodesme on, he quickly hardens to full mast.
"By the gods, Demetrius! Will you put that thing away? " his friend and sometimes rival Galen says from the other side of the room. "You are hornier than Zeus!"
"How can I help it if I am touched by Priapus every time I'm here!?" Demetrius replies.
"I don't know, but you should save it for Leonita!"
"Don't worry Galen, it isn't for you this time!"
"What makes you think I want it?"
"That's not what you said last time!" and with that the room dissolves into good-natured male banter. Commentary about who was larger, who was stronger, who had fucked more high class women, who had fucked more men, etc. The kind of banter that, with some differences fills the centuries between this magical realm and our own.
Even with the cleaning Demetrius gives his armpits, the musk is still very strong. Part of him from that foggy part of his mind feels that he should be doing something about it, rubbing a balm or oil there. But, Demetrius shakes his head: he knows that men smell and that virile wrestlers like him smell strongly. He puts a bit more of the sandlewood oil on and it blends nicely with his man scent and he leaves it at that.
Demetrius takes the strigl and finishes by carefully scraping around his phallus and his heavy balls. In the past, he has had men ask him to save the oil on the strigl from this part of his body and have paid him handsomely for it. They believe it will work to enhance their potency. No so this day, thankfully. Demetrius thinks that this is not only crazy, but disgusting, but who can turn down drachmae when they are offered?
Feeling clean, Demetrius puts his stirgl back and grabs his kynodesme and a towel and heads into the thermae.