“We have a show to get ready for,” he hisses at me, before pulling me in for a kiss. His lips mashing against mine, as I hungrily push back, there’s a warmth to this kiss. An anticipation, the edge of need and desire laced in with the high of my jealous rage. His tongue forces past the barrier of my clenched teeth until it finds mine. I grip his head in my hands, to keep him from escaping, to stop him from looking at her, because I can feel her looking at us. Our tongues battle back and forth like wrestlers, each trying to pin the other down — wanting to win the fight. We both know I have already lost. I lost the day I let my heart open to this man and his monsters.
Our angry heated kiss turns sensual, Scott moves and touches me like he wants to be kissed. Soft, moist, hot and breathy, no longer about winning but seeking closeness, searching for the connection between us — I look for a reason, a justification for what I know will come next. The door slams closed as April escapes leaving her dignity on the floor of my bedroom. I smile against his lips when I know she’s gone, and we slowly pull away from one another.
“I told you if anyone came between us I’d kill them,” I whisper kissing the exposed skin of his bare chest.
“I was counting on it,” he growls out, wrapping a strong firm hand around my throat. “But first, we have a show to perform. And you better make it good.”
Four
Scott
We have a full house tonight, every seat in every row has a person in it. The cold from outside is overshadowed by the sheer number of bodies inside the tent. The world buzzes, hushes, gasps and falls silent as each act progresses from burlesque to the real show they’ve paid to see. I listen from backstage, soaking up the anticipation and feeding off the energy. The cast and crew are all hyped up, and most are probably intoxicated, but I choose to stay quiet and sober — I get some of my thrills up there in the air where life dangles in the balance. There are no nets, no do-overs, no second chances here. If you fall you will most likely die — or like Imogene, wish you had. Cirque is magic because it’s real: the fair, the lust, the sex, the sweat, even our tears are real. The music winds down on the pony show; there are no animals in their act, just fantasies. I can see one of the pony-girls collecting her VIP guest from the front row. His cheeks are red and his eyes glazed over in a debauched haze, he walks one step behind her, watching her long purple pony tail swing from her firm bottom. It takes all types to make the world turn; people get their rocks off to strange things. I should know. The clip-clop of their hoof shaped shoes are life-like as they slowly take their enamored guests out of the tent to the trailers that circle it. The cubby-holes of pleasure and fantasy are what brings the money in.
Music and lights make the tent spin as the hype builds up; Sivan stands in the center under the spotlight, his head bowed down. His top hat tipped slightly, shrouding his painted face. His sadness still hangs around him like a halo, the golden light illuminating his broken heart. Lifting his face to the quiet crowd, he spins around before he introduces the next act.
April — the little cock-sucking whore is perched high above us waiting for her cue. We are up after this short solo performance; I feel Wes hovering behind me watching me watch her. His anger radiating like the heat of the sun; I didn’t want her slutty mouth on me. I never want them, I want what having them does to him. I need that jealousy, I want to see his heart breaking and the monster coming out through the cracks. Torturing him makes my heart skip a beat, I need to see the sufferance in his pretty eyes. It fills me with desire, it thaws my frozen heart, ignites a fire of pure lust inside me that can’t be doused. I have only ever truly wanted Wesley, but I need more than just him; I have to coax the devil out of him to be truly satisfied.
She’s talented, but not like Imogene. April lives for the attention and the limelight. Attention seekers like her thrive here, lapping up this lifestyle. She is particularly pretentious and vile; if I had it in me I’d kill her myself. Wes comes up behind me, his body flush against mine so I can feel him everywhere. He smells like stage paint and rage, it’s irresistible and I push back against him. Soaking up the warmth, I revel in his jealousy. Watching her swing from the silks, imagining so many sadistic things, Wes slips a hand around my waist, holding me as we become one before our act. We need to be in synch with one another, moving together as one entity through the air, or bad shit could happen. I stand there, his heart thumping against my back, and I wait quietly for mine to fall into rhythm with his.
“She’s going to be a problem,” he whispers, his breath warm on my neck. My eyes are still on her as she twirls and dangles; she doesn’t have the grace that Imogene had, her movements are clumsy and stilted. I wonder how she’s not hurt herself yet. She’s got a pretty face and a tight body — I understand the appeal, why men fawn all over her. I just prefer the men, I like my lovers muscle-clad and with a penis. April is a means to an end; I’d never have touched her if it didn’t mean I’d get what I wanted from Wes. “She’s going to try to steal you from me, get her hooks in you and I’ll be left all alone.” He’s wrong, but I don’t tell him she could never take me from him — I like the jealous pang in his voice, the desperation on his breath.
“We have a show to put on. Grow up, Wesley, and focus,” I hiss, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek as our intro music begins to play. “Let’s make magic,” I say taking his hand as we walk into the centre of the ring. The heat of the spotlights make my skin shine with sweat the moment we are under them. It’s intoxicating, the moment all those eyes are on us watching, the desire between us blossoms. Doing forbidden things when you know you’re being watched makes them better. The idea that our being intimate is turning them on — even the ones who aren’t gay, the ones who swear they don’t like men. They’re all adjusting their crotches and trying to hide their blushed cheeks in the shadows. I can feel it though, the sexual tension that makes the air in the tent as thick as my throbbing cock.
As we wind slowly up and down the silks, threading our bodies together, pushing and pulling. Touching, teasing, kissing, licking, biting — flying, and fucking the air as we go. Wes makes love to me with jealous eyes, his anger still violently close to the surface, and as April descends between us — I know I am about to push him right over the edge. Pulling her so she can wrap her lithe little body around my waist, allowing her to grind against me, which is all part of the show, I watch the vein in his neck pulse and his breath catches in his throat.
Five
Wesley
She grinds against him, like he’s hers to pleasure, but his eyes are on me. Gazing into mine, watching, and waiting for me to snap. Only he knows I can’t, that we have a show to do, and we have a guest booked after the show until all hours of the night — it’s Old Year’s Eve. There will be fireworks and celebrations; I can’t strangle the life out of April, not yet, and he’s enjoying watching me wish that I could. This is what he wants, to see me suffering, to watch my jealousy grow into an uncontrollable beast. To feed off my discomfort, to get hard at the idea of my anger. Usually some time with our guests after the show is enough — my green eyed monster shows up just a tiny bit and he’s ready to pounce. But, sometimes he disappears so deep inside himself that he needs more. It has been a long while since I have seen him this way, but I knew it — the moment this whore set foot in the tent that she would be a problem.
My skin prickles just looking at them as they move through the air with none of the grace they should have. The music crescendos and our part of the show is slowly winding down, but the night is young and our dance card is full. It always is when we have a full house. As April spins down to the ground below us, Scott and I come together again, this time it’s me wrapping around him, reminding him of what he needs. Touching not just his body, but his soul, just like we’ve practiced every time we do this, he kisses me as we tumble full speed towards the ground. The thrill of near death and the taste of his mouth on mine are enough to make me believe I’m already in heaven.
Jolting to a stop a foot off t
he ground, wrapped together tightly in the silk trapeze, our breathing in perfect time as he smiles a crooked smile at me. A knowing smile, one that is filled with love and deadly desires. Debauchery and devotion, we are the most diabolical match, but fuck me if I don’t love this man with everything in me.
We take a bow, to wild applause and a standing ovation — his hand clasped tightly around mine. Leaning past me to April he whispers seductively against her cheek. “Midnight, you and me right here on this floor — I will do filthy things to you.” Waves of anger roll through me, I should have known he would make this play, that it was just a game. I did know, but I wanted to believe it wasn’t. My jaw is ticking and I grind my teeth as we walk together to collect our special guest from the second row, Scott making a show by climbing over the people sitting in front of him, his long muscular body stretching so they can’t help but look.
The shy man in row two has a giddy smile on his face as we help him up from his seat and take him with us out through the back of the tent. Icy winter air blows in off the ocean, mist hangs low like a curtain over the small fairy lights that should light the way to the trailer. Not our trailer — that’s our home — but a trailer meant for guests to enjoy the show that happens after the show. He lets out a soft giggle when Scott slaps his bottom, but once inside he quiets. Looking around, fidgeting with his cufflinks, suddenly this is real — his fantasy is right in front of him and he’s afraid. They always do this, the idea is magical but when faced with all that they desire, fear creeps in.
Scott ushers him to the wingback chair that is facing the bed, pushing him gently he makes him sit. “You know what to say if you need us to stop?” he asks the man, handing him the waiver form to sign. Nodding his head he signs with a shaky hand. “Good, then you can take off your suit and hang it in the wardrobe.” He stands up and turns away from us, unbuttoning his coat and shirt. Scott smiles at me, licking his full lips and allowing his eyes to wander to the erection that is straining my tights. Our costumes aren’t designed to hide anything, rather to show it off — Cirque is meant to be real. All of it, but especially the sex. Our guest is naked except for his white boxer shorts that match his pallid skin. Scottie motions for him to sit, before sitting on the end of the bed facing the visibly shaken man. I climb onto the bed and crawl over until I am kneeling behind him. Draping my arms over his shoulders, I run my fingers slowly over his skin.
“You were quite descriptive in your explanation of what you wanted out of tonight, so we’re very clear you want to be involved. You want to be touched and for us to touch you?” He nods. “You need to say yes, I need verbal consent or we can’t begin. And I don’t know if you were watching the show, but I am horny as all hell and cannot wait to have my cock sucked, so is that a yes?”
“Yes,” he says nodding and glancing between us, “it’s a yes — yes.”
“Good, Wes over here is going to help you out of your boxers and we’ll begin.”
“No sex, no sex, that was on the form,” he sputters out nervously. And I step between him and Scott, pulling him to his feet.
“No sex.” We read the forms. We know what the limits are. This guy is green, grass green, and I can tell he’s terrified. I slide my fingers into the waistband of his boxers as Scott bites and kisses from my shoulder to my jawline. His arms wrap around me to undo my tights, his cold fingertips brushing my skin, making it hard to keep my attention on our guest. As my hands dip into the white boxer shorts, he startles and steps away, pulling them up too high. Hyperventilating he looks at me, and through staggered breaths says, “Clown.” Stopping the fun before it’s even begun. I am both disappointed and relieved.
Six
Scott
I knew he wouldn’t last five minutes; he looked like the wet blanket type. Too afraid to admit his sexuality even to himself, probably had the gay whipped right out of him by his religious family. He wants it, he’s just too afraid to get it. I’m wound tighter than a spring, my entire body humming with sexual tension, and none of it’s going to be released until later. I don’t want to ruin the high that I know is coming. Instead I make my move in the game we’re already playing.
“Let’s go watch April,” I say pulling Wes’s pants back up over his thick, hard cock. Killing his spirit, fueling the rage and coaxing out the demons I so desperately want to play with. I want to swing through the air and throw our monsters around, gliding in and out of reality with him. Huffing out a sigh, he glares at me, but still follows as I saunter out of the trailer and into the night. The sounds of Cirque are raucous and alive tonight, devilish laughter, deep moans, and screams of pleasure. The soft glow of fairy lights and the smell of the ocean dance in the mist. I can taste the salty air in every breath, sea and sand and sex coats my tongue. It hasn’t been long enough for her to be finished with her guests, we just had a dud tonight. Now I need a way to pass the time and keep my lover rabid and angry a little longer. Just before we get to where I know she is entertaining some old man with a saggy middle and a swollen bank account, we’re stopped by Sivan, who is doing his rounds to make sure that Cirque is running the way it should.
“I heard you two had a tough crowd, he lasted five minutes. Did you scare him off, Scott? That’s not good for business.”
“He was scared before we even began, paid you a ton of money for nothing. Idiot.”
Sivan takes off his top hat, his long dark hair frames his stark white face.
“Well, we got paid whether he pissed his pants or got off, so it doesn’t matter,” he says with a wry smile. “All the guests need to be ushered to the meadow for the fireworks by midnight.” I know the program; I’m banking on it so that the tent will be empty for us to play. He looks at me with knowing eyes, seeing through my act straight to the monster within. “Don’t leave a mess, Scottie, I’m in no mood to clean.” His voice is stern, yet understanding. “Imogene is having a bad day, and I am going to bow out early this evening.” I nod. I haven’t seen her in weeks, we hear her cry and yell and the smashing of everything inside her trailer, but Imogene hasn’t shown her face at all. She’s broken — inside and out, and the poor man has no idea how to put her together again.
“You don’t need to worry,” I say, as Wes steps out of where the mist kept him hidden.
“This is my circus, Scott. I worry all the fucking time that someone will come along and take away our home,” he growls before marching off.
“He’s cranky tonight,” Wes says, a pang of guilt lifting his voice.
“So am I,” I snap at him, stepping right into his personal space, our faces so close our noses almost touch. I could kiss him, he wants me to kiss him, but that would calm him down and I don’t want to. I want him rabid, angry, riled up, and downright furious.
“Aren’t we all?” he hisses so that I can feel his warm breath on my lips, making me hunger for him. Spinning on my heels I walk away, still going towards April and whoever she’s pleasuring. Loud moans and gasps filter through the thin walls of the trailer, and I like the look on Wes’s face as he listens. Not satisfied with just hearing, I look in through the window, making sure he can see me watching her. She sees me through the glass, her eyes shining with delight as they fix on mine. She’s on all fours, and there’s a man drilling into her from behind. Wes is behind me, his cock poking me in the ass, and all I can think of is how magical it would feel for him to be driving into me right now. Fucking me raw. The thoughts alone are making it hard to wait.
April winks at me when she sees Wes standing behind me, only making him harder and angrier. Silly girl. We stand there, him grinding into me, teasing as I watch her getting screwed. When her guest leaves looking smug, heading to watch the fireworks and countdown to New Year, I know that the show has only just begun. Barging into her trailer, I browse the costume rack and pull off a silver sequined leotard. It’s perfect for what I have in mind; the light will catch it just right — like a disco ball. “Put this on and come to the tent.” I slap her naked ass hard enough to leave
a nice red handprint. “We have a new move to show you. I think you’ll love it.” With a wink I leave her to dress. Yanking Wes by his calloused hand I drag him to the tent. The house lights are off and it’s eerily empty. A single spotlight still shines in the center of the empty ring.
“Climb the rigging and wait for her,” I say, kissing him with a violent force and a smile tugging at my lips. Wesley moans into my mouth, desperate for more. I push him off me when I hear the rustle of footsteps and he follows my instructions, climbing to the highest part of the tent. I watch him pull the swings and the ropes toward him, hooking them ready for what will be a spectacular performance. April comes into the ring, the silver of her costume already shining even in the shadows. Her bare feet barely making a sound. She puts her hands on my chest and looks at me with doe eyes, trying to seduce me, but she’s just petting the monster inside. I kiss her softly, looking up to catch Wes’s eye before I tell her, “Go join Wes, I want to watch you two together before I use you for my pleasure.”
Seven
Wesley
Finally, I thought this night would never fucking end. April climbs the rigging ladder slowly, getting closer and closer. I’d love nothing more than to shove her off and watch her body splatter on the floor — but I know what Scott was thinking when he chose those sequins and I am going to make sure he gets the show we both deserve.
There’s a vicious desire in me to make him want me, to make him happy — to be the only object of his desire. Her plastic smile and feminine curves are offensive to me, the way she puts her hands on my man enrage the beast within and I no longer have control.
Devious Resolutions Page 15
