The Circus

The time for thinking was over, this was the time for brutal, chaotic fucking. Bo's hands were on Tom's hips, their bruising grip the same as before, he had one foot planted on the bed, giving him even more power and causing the headboard to slam into the wall behind them. Tom wailed beneath him, his hands mindlessly grabbing at the bedding before finally finding the strength to reach out for Bo above him. Pulling on Tom's outstretched wrist, Bo rearranged them so Tom was finally on top, Bo sat with his legs crossed and on jellied legs, Tom managed to straddle him, wrapping his legs around Bo's lean waist. With a lengthy amount of blushes and cursing, Tom managed to grab Bo's cock behind him and lower himself onto it. "Fuck Bo," he practically sobbed the words out as he felt his buttocks settle on Bo's lap beneath him, they pressed, chest to chest, kissing wildly. Although Tom was on top, Bo still did all the work, his arms winding around Tom, holding him prisoner and he thrust directly upwards. "Oh god Bo! Ah!," their position change bought new pain and pleasure, "Fuck! Fuck me! Bo!" Tom was so close, bucking savagely, getting some friction on his aching cock.

"Fuck Tommy," Bo's two words set Tom alight as they always did, he screamed,

"I need to cum, I need to cum! Please Bo please!" he sounded so very desperate. Fortunately Bo decided to be kind, his arms shifting so they slid under Tom's armpits before gripping down on the back of his shoulders and pulling down hard as his thrust up directly into his prostate.

That did the trick.

Tom nearly blacked out, his second powerful orgasm in under an hour. Tears spilled from his eyes, his hole clenching rhythmically on Bo's cock, his own cock, lost somewhere between their sweaty bodies, pulsed with jet after jet of cum. Bo's own orgasm came almost immediately after, he roared Tom's name and they both felt him fill the condom in Tom's arse. They collapsed against one another, Tom's slack mouth drooling onto Bo's shoulder, Bo's sweat-damp hair ticking Tom's back as they both rested their foreheads down. They stayed like that for a few moments, sucking in air, Bo's cock softening, their skin finally cooling down. Eventually, Bo eased them apart, lying Tom down on the bed before making his way into the bathroom. Tom heard the bath running and smiled, thank god. Bo reappeared in front of him, practically blinding he shone so brightly with joy, he scooped Tom up with ease, despite his resistance. "Someone's happy," Tom found the energy to mumble as he smelt the scent of lavender rising from the steamy bath.

"Of course," said Bo cooly, "I just had the second best sex of my life."

"Oh yeah?" Tom flirted, playing ball, "and the first?"

"We've had sex twice Tommy," Bo quipped.

They settled into the huge bath, Tom leaning back against Bo's chest, they laid on companionable silence, Bo stroking Tom's hair away from his face. Tom was slightly aware of a few noises downstairs as he fell asleep, I really hope everyone just got back, otherwise I'm doomed. He thought to mention this to Bo but it was too late, Tom's eyelids settled closed at he fell asleep.

Chapter fifteen

Over the next few weeks, some sort of routine developed, Bo would have various members of the troupe over for their sessions, which Tom would attend, for professional reasons, obviously. They would sit and chat whilst Bo sketched and painted and whoever it was would go home before Bo and Tom had mind blowing sex and fell asleep in his little apartment. Bo was granted a full platinum membership to The Circus, which he attended every week without fail and it wasn't long before Tom's name - much to Leicester's disapproval - suddenly disappeared from the meet and greet list. Though he desperately tried to convince himself otherwise, Tom was falling fast and hard for Ambrose Lee. Every text made him smile, every kiss made him weak at the knees, their sex remained as intense as ever, he was constantly bruised and bitten from their lovemaking.

Surprisingly, he also enjoyed attending the sketching sessions, much like with Tom himself, the calm studio environment seemed to make everybody talk and Tom listened to his friend's stories, some of which he knew, some of which he didn't. Caleb, sat on a large armchair that would become his golden throne, legs akimbo, cocky grin on his face, regaled Bo and Tom with stories from his previous job as a male escort that had the three of them in fits. Bertie, lying provocatively on the floor, covered in the morning's bakery haul, didn't even try to flirt with Bo, instead chattering happily about Snowy, the little black cat he had taken in. Tiffany, much to Tom's annoyance, spend most of their time together giggling about the various noises she's heard when they had returned home from their sushi dinner in the days previous. Her white blonde hair was pulled into two pigtails, her black lipstick perfect, the leather bodice she wore looked so good even Tom found it sexy. Charlie talked mostly to Bo, telling him things Tom already knew, how he and Lena had met in Australia, how well she had supported him through his cancer, how he was happy to finally be cured but upset that he hadn't had the opportunity to store some of his sperm before the chemotherapy. Listening to Lena they heard almost a mirror story as she lay on the chaise that would become a tree branch, her thin blonde dreadlocks fanned out, her lovely face surrounded by flowers. She spoke softly of her love for Charlie, how they had been training for international competition when he had been diagnosed, that she had always known she wanted a family but now they were having to consider other options. Tom had always felt close to his friends, but seeing them open up under Bo's watchful eyes was wonderful, sad and intense.

Tom asked Bo about it one lazy morning they were in bed together, "are people always like that when you sketch them?" he asked, "is it always that personal?" he clarified. They were each propped up against a pillow, sipping the first of many cups of tea for the day. "Hmm," Ambrose took a moment to think, "not always, but the ones that stay silent usually have the worst results. When people talk, I get to see all their emotions and expressions, which makes it easier to pick which one I want to sketch. I like to think I pick the right ones," he added humbley.

"You do," Tom smiled, it was true, Tom had seen each of the troupe's sketches, they mirrored the overpowering impact of his own.

"Yours was my favourite though," Bo gave a cheeky grin and Tom jabbed him in the ribs.

"Oh I'm sure it was," he jibed.

"It's true," Bo was laughing, but sincere, "I love watching your face change, every time I spoke you would show these amazing expressions, don't even get me started on sex, you become this little minx," he winked. Tom gave a laugh but it sounded a little fake,

"It doesn't bother you does it?" he cringed at the doubt in his voice.

"What doesn't?" Bo looked properly confused.

"How I am," Tom gulped his tea, "in bed," he choked out.

"Tommy-,"

"It's just," Tom ploughed on, "I've been told before that I'm a little err....over sensitive? That it's a bit of a turn off," he finished.

"Jesus Tommy are you mad? When you're turned on I see all your airs and graces and walls fall down. You're unbelievably sexy and needy and responsive. Sex between us is amazing, or am I the only one thinking that?"

"No," Tom quickly objected, "no, I think it's brain-meltingly good! I just wanted to make sure..." he mumbled the last part so quietly neither of them heard it.

"What?" Bo's smile was huge.

"That I don't cum too fast," Tom huffed, "I've heard I'm kind of a hair trigger when I bottom." Bo frowned at the mention of Tom with anyone else, previous partners was a subject yet to be discussed.

"Tommy," he sighed, stroking a stray strand of Tom's hair, "let me say this once and for all. I get no greater pleasure than watching your cum for me, heck, even on me sometimes," Tom flushed at that, "sex between us, if you'll pardon my French, is the most erotic fucking thing I've ever experienced." Tom gulped, Bo only said that word during sex, and saying it now brought up all sorts of images. "So no," Bo finished, "seeing the man I love get so turned on he can't help but cum for me is not a turn off."

"I know, it's just that I didn't get much physical affection as a child and so now I'm a little-," Tom's rambling stopped abruptly. Did he just say 'the man I love?' Tom's eyes snapped up to look for Bo's chocolate ones. He looked more nervous than Tom had ever seen him, brows drawn up, mouth set in a line, he long fingers were fiddling with the duvet in front of him. Bo finally looked up, meeting Tom's eyes, looking almost scared. "Sorry," Bo blurted out, "I didn't mean to freak you out. We can pretend I-,"

"Don't apologise," the words tumbled out of Tom's mouth before he could stop them, "please don't tell me to pretend I didn't hear it," his voice wobbled.

"Oh Tommy," Bo gathered him into a hug and they stayed like that for a long time.

Thanks to many sleepless nights and a bit of borderline insanity of Bo's part, the exhibition was able to be brought forward several weeks. Luckily for the troupe, it was being held on a Thursday night so they were all in attendance. Bo had casually mentioned it was a black tie event which had sent their little gang into a bit of a tailspin. Hence, on the slightly rainy Wednesday before, the six of them piled into a horrendously overpriced formalwear shop in Oxford street, with Tom footing the bill. He was zipping up Tiffany's slinky gold dress when his phone buzzed for the third time in so much as an hour.

Watson, John (Lawyer and wanker extraordinaire): Stop screening my calls.

Tom tried not to chuckle, Tiffany had been the one to update his phone contacts when he had described his parents old lawyer to her. He'd been calling every few days but Tom couldn't be arsed chatting to him about leases and accounts, he scrolled through the two new texts.

Watson, John (Lawyer and wanker extraordinaire): We need to talk.

Watson, John (Lawyer and wanker extraordinaire): I could always show up at The Circus?

Tom cringed, that was the last thing he wanted, John already knew more about his life then he was comfortable with, he frowned, tapping a reply.

You: Busy this week. Monday?

The reply was an immediate affirmative, his office, two o'clock, ugh.

They were in the shop for far too long, debating how formal was too formal before finally making their purchases.

It was just over twenty four hours later when they dressed in those very clothes for a second time, Tiffany rushing to take what felt like a billion photos before they folded themselves into a minivan taxi and we rushed of to possibly to most pretentious bar Tom had ever been to. Tom had to admit, the group of them really scrubbed up well. Himself, Charlie and Caleb had opted for rather classic black suits, Bertie had splashed out on a very dark, crushed velvet, navy blazer which made him look fantastic. The girls were gorgeous, Tiffany having opted for the shimmering gold dress which skated over her tiny, curved body, it was a little on the long side but that just added to the feathered golden train behind her. Lena was doing her usual bohemian thing, having found an olive green dress that with a neckline which plunged to her belly, her fit dancers body showed off to the extreme, Tiffany had convinced her to wear a little make up, her dreadlocks were twisted high on her head. Tom adjusted his suit as they made their way in, he had decided on a slim fit number, with a dark purple waistcoat and tie, his Ringmaster's boots on his feet. His hair had been painstakingly styled by Tiffany, it sat in a side plait like before, but this time his long, sweeping fringe was left out, shadowing one eye with other delicate tendrils of hair falling around his face. Upon entering the bar, Tom and the others immediately found themselves holding glasses of Champagne. The small entrance had been deceiving, the bar inside huge and well lit by several chandeliers, their dress shoes and heels shuffled along the nearly-black floorboards, the moss green walls were decorated by seven huge canvasses. Wow. That was the only word for it. Seeing one of Bo's portraits had overwhelmed Tom, seeing seven on them in one setting filled his body with heat and pride. He allowed a huge grin to stretch his face, almost bursting with admiration for the man who loved him and possibly, the man he loved back. Oh lordy. A few of the other guests glanced their way and their little group rounded the exhibition, clearly making the connection. Bo was nowhere to be seen but Tom could only assume he was trapped somewhere. Mikey and Carl were there, but fortunately, Tom didn't see any other members from The Circus. Tom absorbed the power of each painting, every bit better than he could have imagined. Calebs bedroom eyes had been captured brilliantly, Tiffany's evil smile radiated from her lips, Bertie's innocent, yet seductive grin almost gave Tom a semi. Charlie looked like the warrior he was in life and Lena made the same peaceful expression she had as she had spoken of her love for her husband. Tom avoided his own picture, instead stopping in front of the one he was yet to see in the flesh.

Darcy Lee was nearly as handsome as his brother, very nearly, his flame-covered body looked like it would burst with barely contained rage. Tom stared at what he knew had once been a stick-figure sketch, his mouth open in wonder. "Good isn't it?" a familiar voice said. Tom spun, his eyes finally landing on Bo for the first time that evening. He looked wonderful in a fitted navy suit with a burgundy tie, he was clean shaven and smelt like something lovely. "It's amazing and you know it," he replied grinning, unsure of the etiquette Tom stuck his arm out for a shake, he knew Bo wasn't in the closet but this was a professional function. When's Bo's right brow arched, a smile on his lips Tom knew he was in for a rough fuck later that night, "Sorry Tommy," Bo jeered before tilted Tom's chin up and kissing him fully on the mouth. They managed to keep it PG, barely, ignoring the wolf whistles from around the room. Fortunately, Tom had rightly assumed most of the guests were in the business anyway, the business or art and the business of gay. They broke apart, Tom weakly slapping Bo's arm. "You like it?" Bo asked earnestly, gesturing to the art.

"Of course I do Bo, I'm not blind," Tom sassed. Bo looked like he was going to say something else but a huge hand clapped him on the shoulder,

"That was a nice little performance there Bro," the man in the painting behind them appeared in the flesh at Bo's side. Tom took in Darcy's hulking form, he looked scarily similar to his brother, save the masses of muscle and the enormous number of freckles covering his body. "I'm Bro's brother, Darcy," he reached out a hand and Tom realised yet another one of Ambrose's nicknames had emerged, Tom shook the meaty hand, another thing the brother's didn't share.

"Thomas Mason," he smiled, "I've heard a lot about you," he made the generic saying.

"And I, you," Darcy's eyes glinted with mischief and Bo shoved him with his shoulder. The three of them chatted until Bo was drawn away, after which Tom and Darcy chatted even more. They got on well, it quickly became obvious they already knew far too much about each other, nodding along as they exchanged information Bo had already offered. Darcy had a great sense of humour, twice making Tom laugh embarrassingly loud, he asked three times if Tiffany was single, eyeing up her form across the room. Tom indulged him until he caught Bo shooting them a little glare, excusing himself, he made his way back to the artist.

"Everything alright?" he teased.

"You're getting on very well with my brother," he frowned but Tom knew there was no malice behind it.

"Oh yeah? Well, what's a guy to do? He looks just like you," Tom gave an exaggerated sigh.

"You look great by the way," Bo's voice held a tone of lust.

"Yeah? You like my suit," Tom posed a little, enjoy the way Bo fucked him with his eyes.

"Oh yes I do," Bo leaned in to whisper in Tom's ear, "such a shame it's going to get all torn up later."

Tom shuddered

Fuck.

Chapter sixteen

Bo was kind enough not to completely destroy Tom's very expensive suit.

The moment it was socially acceptable, Bo whisked them away from the exhibition, barely stopping to say goodbye to the troup and his brother. Turns out, in a moment of crazed extravagance, he had booked a room for the two of them at Claridges. Tom barely had a moment to take in the splendor of the hotel with Bo striding ahead of him at breakneck speeds. The moment the door on their room clicked shut they were on each other. Tom's body visibly bounced off the bed he hit it with such force. They both desperately tried to be romantic but it was impossible, clothes were ripped off, hair yanked, skin bruised. Tom was grateful to catch a glimpse of lube and condoms on the bedside table, good lord he must have actually requested that. Bo was on top, grinding their aching cocks against each other whilst he wrecked Tom's nipples, biting the tiny buds. They rocked against one another, Tom nearly ready to cum there and then, it was only when Bo's cock slipped, brushing Tom's hole, that some sense returned. "Lube Bo," he squeaked out to the wild man above him. Bo took a moment to looked pissed off and Tom thought he was going to do as he asked.

He didn't.

Instead he shifted, making his was speedily down Tom's body and almost-painfully prying his buttocks apart. "Wait! What are y-," Tom's voice cracked as Bo buried his tongue into Tom's arse, "fuck! Wait, wait!" Tom's voice hit a pitch only dogs could hear. Bo retreated his tongue long enough to say, "don't wanna wait," before resuming his activities. Tom writhed beneath him, pleasure running along every nerve, his orgasm building quicker than he thought possible. In a moment on near inhuman strength, he pulled himself off Bo's tongue, grabbing the shoulders of the confused man, who let Tom flip them so Bo was on his back. Tom was almost frenzied, ripping apart the box of condoms and roughly rolling one onto Bo's cock. Smug as he always was in times like this, Bo brought his hands up behind his head, smirking as he watched Tom flit about. Tom didn't care then, nothing was as important as impaling himself on Bo's perfect cock as soon a physically possible. He coated Bo liberally with lube, wiping the excess over his hole, he knew it would hurt but was oddly excited about it. A nanosecond of concern crossed Bo's face as Tom lined himself up with Bo's cock but the burning confidence in Tom's eyes stopped him from saying anything. Tom watched Bo's abdominals clench as he slowly lowered himself down, fiery pain shooting up his spine as he forced himself open. Bo's smirk dropped for a moment, intense arousal replacing it and he bit hit lower lip as their pelvis' finally met. "Ooh fuck," Tom whispered, letting his body adjust, he'd been on top before but it was always much deeper than he remembered. Summoning all his dancing ability, Tom rolled his hips, battering his prostate and making Bo's abs clench again. Empowered, he did it again and again, his lean body heating up with effort and desire and he gracefully fucked himself. "So good Tommy," Bo was whispering over and over again, his bright eyes watching Tom's every move. Tom felt himself hurtling towards the edge of a cliff, "Bo," he panted out, "I-I really...," his took a hard hit to his prostate, moaning long and loud, "Bo, I lo-," his words became a moan again.