The Circus

"Ah I see," Ambrose chuckled, Tiffany's routine wasn't one your forgot easily.

"We can up with the idea at university," the words came out easily now, "we both went to this art's college in Australia, the same one Hugh Jackman went to," Ambrose made a little noise of appreciation, "we bonded because their weren't many overseas students in our cohort." When Ambrose didn't say anything Tom continued his ramble, "See, even though we were both getting great marks, we were getting rejected at every audition. You've seen Tiffany, the only lead roll she got the whole time we were there was one of the seven dwarves in a local production." Ambrose's warm laughed filled the room at that, "And you?" he asked.

"Loads of things," said Tom, his voice filled with amusement at a subject which had once galled him, "I have this terrible habit of parroting people when I sing, which is great for covers, but means I don't exactly have a sound of my own."

"I think your voice is amazing," a reply came from behind the canvas.

"Plus there's my face, these bad boys are too distinctive you see," he poked at his two spots before quickly remembering he wasn't supposed to move."

"Your beauty spots are sexy," the canvas spoke again, making Tom pause.

"And then there's the fact that the one time I did get this role I got sacked on day one of filming."

"Oh," Ambrose's head poked around the side of the easel.

"It was a sex scene right off the bat," Tom flushed, "She was a lovely girl, but I couldn't even pretend I enjoyed it, they showed me the footage after, I looked like I was being tortured," he laughed. Ambrose laughed at that too, switching pencils and resuming his work,

"So, you and Tiffany were both err, unsuitable for the world you had planned on making careers in..." he prompted. Tom felt back into the calm state he had found before.

"Yeah, so one drunken night we came up with The Circus, a place for all the freaks out there. We'd already met Lena, umm the woman from the Yin and Yang act, and she was pretty keen. After I moved back to London we put everything in motion, managed to get the lease in Knightsbridge and devised or first show. It was pretty unrefined to start with, but three years later, I suppose I would call it a success." Okay, you skipped some pretty major chunks of that story.

"Wow, I can't imagine one of your shows being unrefined," Ambrose grinned for a moment before his face was suddenly grim, "and the other part?," he swallowed loudly, "how did that come about?" Tom's eyes opened at that, but he didn't bother asking for clarification.

"It was always a little joke of ours until one day, a few months into the business, Tiffany's dad was declared bankrupt. Turned out he'd made some pretty terrible investments and Tiffany's allowance was cut immediately, he'd already spent her entire trust fund. We'd gone fifty-fifty in the business and still had a bunch of things to pay off. We'd already poured most of our savings into The Circus, the landlords were charging us crazy high rent as we were a 'risky investment' and while I was able to pay off our debts and help out Tiffany's family, we were left with nothing." Ambrose didn't speak so Tom continued, his tongue loose now, "Tiffany was approached by one of the members, there were only about ten of them then but we knew we wanted to market ourselves as exclusive." Tom wet his lips, unsure as to why he was feeling emotional, he then realised it was because this was a story he had never shared, not even everyone in the troupe had heard it. "He offered her two thousand pounds to have sex with him," he said flatly, seeing a shift in Ambrose's emotions. "She already kind of liked him, I think she would've done it even if he hadn't offered the money. So she went with him." The sound of pencil on paper had stopped and the silence was all consuming save Tom's quiet voice. "Then, the following week, he offered again, another two thousand pounds, but this time," Tom sucked in a breath, "this time another member made me the same offer." There was an audible noise as Ambrose's hands clenched to fists, a clear 'pop' as the pencil in his left hand snapped in two.

"Sorry," his voice was almost a whisper, "that must have been very scary for you."

"It was at first, but life goes on, we gained more members and more performers, we were able to turn a profit and my troupe had a way of making money individually. Only those who wanted to had to participate and it just became part of life. We refused to be ashamed." He didn't mention the thrill he had felt when that man had propositioned him. He didn't speak of the pleasure that sparked in his body every time he felt eyes trailing his Ringmaster's performance, the joy he found in the depravity and the anxiety he then felt when that depravity went too far.

"Part of life?" the words barely made it part Ambrose's tightly clenched teeth.

"You paid for me." Tom regretted his words the moment he said them but it was too late. Ambrose's eyes snapped up to his own, sorrow, shame and regret spilling over their flowing depths. Good one. "I didn't mean that, sorry," Tom's voice sounded as sad as Ambrose's eyes.

"It's okay," Ambrose mumbled, "It's true isn't it? Honestly, I never actually planned of having sex with you, I just wanted so much to meet you and-," Ambrose suddenly cut himself of, looking mortified.

"What? Meet me and what?" Tom was suddenly curious.

"Damn," Ambrose was adorably flustered, "You see, I only started sharing the space with Mikey a few months back and when I first met him, he kept going on about this awesome place he and his husband go every few months." Ambrose raked a hand through his hair, pulling off the headband and wringing in with his hands. "When I told him I was gay too, he got even more insistent, telling me I would love it and saying he could get me in as a member. I'm not a huge fan of the club scene so I resisted for weeks, then he came in one day saying he'd taken Carl to another one of these shows for his birthday and showed me this photo..." if at all possible Ambrose's face reddened further. Thomas paid his IT guy a lot of money to make sure there were no photos of him anywhere on the internet which meant the only picture Ambrose could be talking about was the one Mikey had taken the night he'd bought Carl to The Circus for his birthday. Tom had allowed him to keep the photo with a promise not to post it anywhere, it was of the three of them, Carl, or Galileo as he had been then was holding up the camera, grinning from ear to ear, Mike was on his left, his arm over Carl's shoulders and Tom was on was on his right, pecking Carl on the cheek. It it a great photo of me though. "Then Mikey said they did this thing where you could meet the performers after the show, so I booked in," Ambrose finally finished.

"Wait, you thought it was a legitimate meet and greet?" Tom hissed out a whisper.

"Well at first yes, then..well...the lady on the phone asked if I wanted to top or bottom. I guess I worked it out after that," Ambrose gave a laugh then, dissipating some of the tension rolling around the room.

"If you knew you weren't going to have sex with me, why bother even saying you're a top? You could have saved yourself a lot of money," Tom sighed.

"I know but, I just wanted to meet you and," Ambrose averted his gaze, "even though I wasn't going to do anything there and then, I wanted you to know I was a top," he lifted his gaze then and a pair of burning eyes drilled into Tom. Sweet Jesus. The man saw one photo of you and went to those kind of lengths? It's almost like he's in lo- Tom almost physically recoiled at the thought that had just occurred to him. He was trying to summon the courage to qualify his question when Ambrose spoke again, "Tommy," he shot Tom an uncharacteristically tender look, "do you believe in love at first sight?"

Chapter nine

A piece of sandpaper had more moisture in then Thomas' mouth at that moment, an oppressive silence filled the room broken only by the almighty thudding of Tom's heart. Talk Tom. Say something, say anything! But he couldn't, implications of Ambrose's question were more than he could handle. Shit, how long has it been since he asked that question? He mentally chastised himself, but still couldn't find the physical words. No, I don't believe in love at first sight, but I do believe in attraction and infatuation, but hell, if you're saying you're in love with me, I'll happily throw my principles in the bin. The thoughts rattled around Tom's head but he still said nothing.

"Jesus Tommy," Ambrose had moved at some point, now crouched in front of Tom's stiff form and stroking his cheek with a pencil-stained thumb, "you don't need to look so terrified you know," he smiled, but Tom heard the hurt in his voice.

"Sorry," Tom finally croaked out, schooling his features into what he hoped was a soft smile, "I just wasn't expecting that," no shit Sherlock.

"It's okay," Ambrose's eyes had gained some life now, "I don't ever want to make you feel pressured, just thought I'd throw it out there is all," Tom nodded hastily and relaxed when he saw a familiar, easy grinned settle on Ambrose's face. "Come on," the artist said, standing, "I'm way behind schedule." He settled Thomas back into his original pose, knees bent, fingers lazily tracing soft velvet, this time however, Ambrose held onto Tom's back leg, closest to the back of the chaise. "You're err," the man cleared his throat, "pretty flexible right?"

"I guess?" Thomas replied.

"Think you can straighten this?" grey-stained fingers tapped Tom's right leg. Adopting a smirk that wasn't overly in his character, Tom easily straightened his long, black-encased leg. He bought it up so it was completely vertical then easily swished it even closer towards his head, pulling his hips just beyond a side split. Ambrose's eyes bulged at that, his dark pupils flicking along Tom's legs, then down to his obscenely exposed crotch. "Like that?" Tom wondered is his voice had ever sounded so sultry.

"Yes," was the whispered reply, "think you can hold it until I'm done?" the double entendre wasn't lost on either of them. Good lord. Not trusting his voice, Tom settled for hasty nodding.

If the first half of Tom's session with Ambrose had been ultimating soothing, like drifting away to sleep on a cloud, the second half was clinging onto that cloud in the midst of a storm. Chocolate brown eyes which had before stared at him with analytical ponderance now drilled into him with desire, wild and reckless. For close to two hours they contained themselves, cheeks flushed, chests pulsing with shared need, Tom's straightened leg twitching as it cramped and spasmed. Stilled, he dared not move, not even when he felt that hot gaze on what was now an aching and hard cock open for Ambrose's viewing pleasure. The sound of Ambrose putting down his pencil was music to Tom's ears. His body throbbed with need, fear almost eradicated, there was no room for fear, not where lust was involved. And my goodness do I lust for him. The floor was hard to grip onto with his nylon-clad feet. When did I start moving? His leg ached for rest but his arms were already reaching out. Ambrose was standing now, pulling the headband off his head, letting that beautiful hair tumble down over his forehead. He's getting closer, are we both moving? Or is it just me? Regardless, they met, a tangling of arms and bodies and fingers and lips and teeth and tongue. It wasn't gentle. It never is. It was raw and needy, two bodies pressed tightly to one another, trying desperately to blend into one.

Like a great wave, the silence was finally broken when Ambrose's searching hands made Tom let out a low moan. Those long fingers had found a nipple with ease and started their torment. Pleasure flashed through Tom's body, a singular moment of fear pressed through his foggy brain but a pair of strong lips were moving against his own and like Tom's reason, dignity and pride, the fear left. Ambrose's tongue, large and wet, was invading Tom's mouth, it searched wilding, before finding a spot on the roof which made Tom squirm, and stroking it repeatedly. Eventually, sweaty and breathless, Tom was aloud a moment to recover, "God," he shook the word out, "Ambrose...Bo," he tested the name.

"Bo?" he was gifted a dark smirk in return.

"I want a name for you, something nobody else calls you," it was embarrassing, but Tom was beyond that.

"Oh Tommy," that was, apparently, an affirmative answer, not that Tom would find out, because he was suddenly airborne. Squeaking, he held onto the moving pillar that was Bo and he made his way through the door and into his tiny home, setting Tom down to shut the door. The change in setting seemed to centre everything, like the big bang, one moment everything was tight and small and suddenly the whole universe seemed to grow. The whole world seemed to fit in that pocket sized house. They were back together once again, Tom pressed against the was, Bo, looming over him, hands splayed over his bare hip bones. Their mouths stayed connected, even as Bo's hands slipped below Tom's waistband, finding his bare bottom cheeks and squeezing, making Tom let out a little noise. Those hands circled now, roaming forwards until they met with Tom's cock, "Oh," that singular noise filled the room as his aching cock was finally being touched. He had already worked up a shameful amount of precum in their ministrations and it proved to be a worthy lubricant. Tom clutched at Bo's upper arms as he awkwardly stroked Tom's cock within the confines of his clothing. After a minute, the other man frowned, "Fuck this," he almost growled, grabbing, and easily tearing, a huge hole in the front of Tom's tights. Knees almost buckling, Tom clutched on even tighter, like before, hearing that word from Bo's angelic mouth did things to him, as did the cool air now hitting his sensitive cock. Bo was pumping roughly now, his calloused hands finding every sensitive spot Tom had to offer. It weakly occurred to Tom to reciprocate it some way but Bo's other hand was still firmly on his hipbone, pressing him back into the wall and leaving Bo's clothed cock just out of reach. Quickly as ever, Tom felt the urge to cum overwhelming him, "Bo," he groaned the name he had chosen for his man. Your man?

Shut up, I'm not dealing with you right now.

"I need-," he clawed at Bo's arms now, old paint staining Tom's gloves, "I need to cum!" he finally got out. Sadistic as ever, Bo slowed down at this verbal confirmation. In frustration, Tom squeezed harder on Bo's biceps, his thumbing digging into the fibres of the muscle. Bo's grunted in pain or annoyance and closed in even tighter on Tom, the force in his hip returning, slamming closed the distance he had strayed from the wall. It was a little violent and utterly dominating. God that's hot. "Bo," he whined openly now, Ambrose's hand had found a steady rhythm that was keeping Tom on the edge. He thrashed his head against the wall and dodged the kiss Bo went in for, "God Bo please!" his voice his some amazing pitch and he felt a string of saliva settle on his chin, he was a mess, already. Leaning in even closer, Bo's lips made their way to Tom's ear, hot breath washing over him.

"No."

That word alone would have made Tom cum if it wasn't for Bo's skillful hand. "What?" his voice was wantonly needy, "why?" His hands were now making his way towards his cock but Bo caught them, his one free hand pulling both of Bo's wrists up above his head against the wall. Seriously fucking hot.

They were so close Tom's vision was almost blurring but he easily caught the look on Bo's face. He didn't look smug per say, but happy didn't seem to cut it. His eyes glinted with excitement and open wanting, his smile predatory and his eyebrows drawn up questioning. It was a simple question, do you really think you can win this? It wasn't mocking, nor patronizing, they both knew this was a sex-fuelled game they were playing. A game they were both enjoying immensely. So Tom showed his willing by continuing their game, "why?" he repeated, "why won't you let me cum?"

"Because," that rich voice was so, so close now, "you're not being very well behaved," the outright arrogance that dripped from Bo's statement was enough to double the speed of Tom's heart rate. He arched, stretching out along the wall and forcing his cock further into Bo's hand, desperately thrusting away at anything which could provide some friction. "See what I mean?" That voice was all-consuming, wrapping Tom up with it's depth and drowning him in want. "Please," Tom kept himself very still, feeling he could shatter at any moment, his cock was painful, slick with precum and almost purple, "Bo please, I wa-," he finally found the words, "Can I cum please?"

As it turns out, please was, in fact, the magic word. Bo's hand twitched once before pumping away at Tom's cock with speed and skill, it was only a few seconds before Tom came apart at those hands. If every orgasm is like this, I may die. It was so intense, so powerful, leaving him shaking and sweaty, crumpled on the floor. His eyes squeezed shut, muscles spasming, the aftershocks rocking him for longer than ever before. He felt Bo crouch beside, a hand stroking his cheek before he was guided carefully to the bed. "Tommy," that sweet voice was back, Bo's demonic side firmly tucked away once more, "you okay?"

"Yeah," Tom sighed, eyes still closed. He felt the duvet being pulled over the pair of them. There was a moment and some shuffling of material before Bo joined him in the bed. Tom reached out for him, finally opening his eyes and joyfully found Bo's warm, naked form under the duvet. They twisted together like roots, easily and naturally, skin finding skin. Settling, they found their breathing together, neither one of them sleeping, Tom tracing Bo's chest, Bo stroking Tom's long black hair. "You didn't fuck me," those four harsh words broke the silence between them, but Bo only laughed.

"No Tommy, I didn't. I won't unless you want me to," the grin didn't leave his face.

"I do want you to," Tom frowned, surprisingly, he really meant it. Like, really meant it. Bo, rolled onto his side, propping his head up and looking down into Tom's eyes, he searched them for a moment, looking conflicted. "I'm not sure Tommy, I know this sounds silly, given..." he gestured in Tom's direction, "but you seemed a little nervous before?" it was a mixture between a statement and a question. Tom frowned more at that, the man wasn't wrong, but that was then and foolish and ridiculous at it sounded, in under a week, everything had changed. "I was," he admitted, "it's incredible I know but I don't..." he searched for courage, "I don't really have a lot of experience," he finished. Bo raised an eyebrow but said nothing, "Umm...well...you see," this is just painful, "I don't really bottom much....I...err.." no please, talk slower, mumble more why don't you? "I've only ever been in that position with two other men." Bo's shock was evident, it's not every day a male escort reveals he's two fucks away from being an anal virgin. "So, even though I may have given you them impression that I wasn't keen to..." he waved his hand, are you twelve? "I do want to," he finished as earnestly as he could.

There was a swollen pause before Tom found himself flat on his back, Bo poised above him, eyes burning with barely restrained desire. They shared a long, meaningful kiss before Bo bought their foreheads together, "You know what I'm like Tommy," he panted, "if you're okay with this...once I start, I'm not all that good at stopping," he said it lightly but the meaning of his words was profound. In response, Tom bought their mouths together for another kiss, undoing the collar on his neck, trying to meld his own gentleness into Bo's rough ways. "I want this."