The Circus

Chapter ten

Without any hint of exaggeration or cliche, Tom would forever remember that night as one of the best of his life.

It was as consuming and fervent and every sexual interaction between the two of them was. Tom waylaid his fear and nervousness the minute Bo's hands were back on his body, he could count on one hand the number of times he had felt any genuine pleasure when bottoming but today he knew he would enjoy himself. They kissed heatedly under the covers for a few minutes before Bo huffed and threw the bedding on the floor, both their bodies warm and moist. Like it always was with Bo, Tom failed to take any initiative of the situation, letting Bo explore his body, all the while too breathless to return the favour. Bo's face was mere millimetres away from the tip of Tom's cock when he stopped, looking thoughtful. "W-What's wrong?" Tom whispered, panicked that Bo was already regretting this. Bo's eyes snapped up to meet Tom's own, the confusion now gone, that same predatory gleam back where it belonged. "One sec," he said, giving Tom's cock one long lick before darting off the bed and into the bathroom.

What's he doing? Oh my god, he wants out, he's regretting this already. Am I regretting this? No. I can't even pretend I am, I want this so fucking bad. But maybe he doesn't? Should I go? Maybe he's waiting for me to go, yeah, I think-

Bo was suddenly back, condoms and lube in tow.

Oh.

You're a fucking idiot.

Shut it.

The relief must have been plain on Tom's face because Bo grinned and shook his head in amazement. "Sorry," the man said, leaning in and licking Tom's still erect cock, "but you're not escaping now." Those words sent a little shudder down Tom's spine and he lunged back in for more kisses. Bo indulged him for a short while before returning to his project, which seemed to be being the world's biggest cocktease. He was back at Tom's crotch now, kissing and nibbling his hipbones, all the while those long fingers danced around his delicate inner thighs. Fed up with pleading, Tom let his head fall back against the pillows, enjoying the onslaught of promised pleasure. In this position Tom couldn't see, but only felt when Bo's tongue was suddenly flush against his perineum, "fuck," the word was almost sucked out of Tom's lungs. Bo chuckled and continued, at some point Tom had willingly spread his legs wide, ripping the hole in his tights so far he could feel his arse open to the elements. Bo was making more holes now, his body energetic with sexual adrenaline, his tongue bathed Tom's balls while his nifty fingers pulled and yanked until Tom's legs were a mass of circles of exposed flesh. The biggest hole, was the huge one Bo had made around Tom's arse, baring pretty much the entire thing, Bo sat back on his heels, admiring the new bit of art he had created. "Pervert," Tom pouted, trying in vain to hide his embarrassment. Bo didn't even deny it, just gave another low chuckle and let his eyes roam excessively over Tom's body. Without warning, two fingers found their way to Tom's uncovered hole, making him give a little yelp of surprise. Bo's fingers didn't progress any further, just made tiny circles around the little pucker whilst his other hand returned to Tom's cock, giving it just enough attention to be superbly enjoyable. There was a little pause and Tom heard the 'click' of lube being opened before the very same fingers returned, this time slick, but still not progressing, there was no insistence from Bo's strokes. They stayed like that for god knows how long, Tom squirming on the bed, Bo effortlessly maintaining a steady rhythm with both hands. "Oh god just do it!" Tom eventually almost screamed.

"Do what Tommy?" Bo asked, his ego practically filling the room. You fucking love it.

"Put them in! Put them-argh!" his torturous request was fulfilled at two slick, long fingers slid deep into his hole. "Oh god yes!" Tom was uncensored as those digits worked away inside of him, filling him, scissoring him, stretching him. His prostate was targeted in moments, Bo's ever-rough nature evident as he mercilessly plucked at the little button. Tom had never been with someone like this, someone who knew what they were doing, who knew how to pleasure another man like this. "Fucking fuck," Tom was bucking against the bed, his body was on fire, every nerve ending primed for one goal. I need to cum. "I need to cum!" he repeated, vocally this time. They both knew their games from earlier were over, their roles in this were apparent, Bo would not deny him. The fingers in Tom's hole sped up and suddenly there was a third, Tom squeaked at the slight pain but it did not hinder his journey to orgasm, in fact, it quickened it. "Now Tommy," Bo's voice found him through the fog, "cum now," it was loud, demanding and obsolete. Tom obeyed. How could he not? His body spasmed on the bed, he didn't shout or scream, he didn't even say Bo's name, just let out a string of tiny whimpers as he came all Bo's hand and his own stomach. He was still in a haze when he felt the bed shift as Bo reached for a condom but forced his eyes open to watch the man put it on. Tom had almost forgotten how wonderful Bo's cock was, just a bit longer and slightly wider than Tom felt he could take. Perfect. It shone now, wet with precum and hard as a rock. For me. Bo put on the condom before grabbing the lube and smothering his cock, it was only then he caught Tom watching him. He raised a brow, "you ready?" Bo eyed up Tom's slack body, covered in his own cum, cheeks flushed eyes shiny with unshed tears of pleasure. Tom nodded hastily, his orgasm had relaxed him, not enough that he wasn't concerned about the size of Bo's cock, but relaxed enough that he knew he wanted it in him. "How do you want this?" Bo asked, pouring a hefty amount of lube in around Tom's gaping entrance, "want me to flip you over?" Tom shivered at the sensation, shaking his head.

"Want to see you," he whispered, blushing. Ambrose smiled warmly at that, shuffling Tom and putting a pillow under his hips,

"I wanna see you too," he kissed him as gently as Bo seemed to be able to kiss. Tom was just getting lost in it when he felt Bo's blunt cock against his hole, he tried to tense in anxiety but his muscles were still placid from his orgasm and refused to comply. So, with less resistance than both of them expected, to top of Bo's cock popped in. "Fuck," came Tom's tiny whisper, filling the small space between their mouths. Bo closed the gap, kissing him again and swallowing the flow of sounds his made as more and more of his lover's cock made it's way inside. Finally, Bo pulled back, leaning so Tom's hips sat on the top of Bo's thighs, his legs dangling either side, open and wanting. Their hips settled against each other, completely connected at last. "Tommy?" Bo's voice broke the silence between them.

"I'm okay," Tom hastily replied. He was okay, more than okay, the initial burn was already wearing off, his sensitive body betraying him. He felt full to the brim, Bo's cock pressing heavily on his prostate. It was really, really good. Bo slid out slowly, making both of them groan, before pushing back in with equal slowness. He did this two more times and both of them were panting, sweat dripping off of Bo's curls, hitting Tom's lower stomach. "Fuck" Bo grunted out, a signal his control had lapsed and boy had it lapsed. He gave Tom one last courtesy slow thrust before doubling, and then quadrupling his pace. "Oh god Bo! Fuck!" Tom was screaming, his voice shaking with the force of Bo's thrusts, pressing him into the mattress. His channel clenched around Bo's cock, it was so hot, so hard, making a bevy of obscene sounds as it made it's way in and out, in and out. Bo was skilled to say the least, there wasn't a thrust that didn't brush Tom's prostate. "Bo! I'm nearly-," Tom couldn't even finish the sentence as Bo grabbed his ankles, pulling his legs wide apart and shifting them so Tom was almost bent in half. Bo was a madman, his weight baring down on the two on them as he plunged in again and again, his eyes wild. The new position meant a direct hit on Tom's prostate with every thrust, it was almost blinding him with pleasure, a third orgasm for the day was crawling through his toes, making it's way towards his cock. Bo leaned back in, their sweaty torsos colliding, and forcing him even deeper inside, if that was even possible, taking the hint, Tom wrapped his legs around Bo's hips, rocking against him where he could. Their mouths were alight as they found eachother again, ravaging kisses making way to bites. Grasping hands became clawing ones and somewhere along the line Tom had bitten Bo's lip so hard it was bleeding. He clawed at the man's back, making angry red streaks, Bo was working Tom's neck, raising huge animalistic bite marks. It was violent and primal and the single most erotic experience of Tom's life. As much as he wanted it to go on Tom could barely contain his orgasm, "Bo, god Bo, I have to cum," he hissed into the tiny gaps of space between their bodies. Bo responded by quickening his pace and grabbing frantically for Tom's cock between them. "Me too," he grunted the words out, eyes unfocused. Tom didn't mention that he could've cum without either of them touching his cock, why embarrass himself if he didn't have to? He regretting it the moment that calloused hand found his cock once more, the feeling of Bo's cock in him and Bo's hand on him was almost unbearable. He came instantly, body arching, screaming Bo's name so loud he felt the word was being ripped from deep inside him. His eyes were clamped shut, he only feld Bo's hips falter in the rhythm before he realised he had gripped Bo's cock throughout his orgasm. "Fuck Tommy," Bo's voice had found some new level of lust, he shouted Tom's name four more times before his orgasm took him. Tom pried his eyes open enough to watch his lover cum, that tall, muscular body convulsed above him, every tiny tendon, muscle and joint twitching with effort, his lovely face masked by bliss, his sweaty form trembling. Beautiful.

After a long recovery time, they both finally settled back onto the bed, Bo finding the discarded bedding. They cuddled with natural ease, Tom slotting into Bo's side, his head on Bo's chest, legs tangled. Tom listened to Bo's gradually slowing heart, his eyelids heavy. "That was..." Bo started, but couldn't seem to find the words. Tom smiled against his hairless chest, what possible words could their be? Tom had never connected with another human like that. That was one of the best experiences I've ever had.

"Yeah, me too," Bo hugged him tightly.

Shit, did I just actually say that? You suck, post-orgasm brain.

It was still early, but it felt right that they both settled in for sleep then. Tom woke once, a couple of hours later to text Tiffany and let her know he was staying out, he turned his phone off so he wouldn't have to deal with the reply. He also peeled off his wrecked, cum-stained tights and threw them in the bin before returning and settling himself back against Bo's sleeping form.

Chapter eleven

The second time Tom woke it was morning, very early, but already bright due to the summer weather. Bo wasn't in bed, but he could hear the kettle boiling which explained it. "Morning," Bo's smooth voice was close as Tom sat up, the man was in the dining room, showered and wearing just some pajama bottoms. He handed Tom a cup of tea, already topped up with plenty of milk. "Thanks," Tom's voice was rough - from the best sex of your life - and he hoped it would be alright for Saturday's show. He sipped the tea slowly, letting it's heat heal his sore throat. "I've put a clean towel and stuff in the shower," his accent caught a little on that last word, making it sound like half the consonants were missing. Tom nodded, smiling and taking a big gulp of his tea, "kinda miffed you had one without me truth be told," he said mischievously. Tom laughed loudly at that,

"Don't," he chastised, pointing a butter knife at Tom, "wait until so see yourself in the mirror," he missed a few consonants again, "then you'll see why I left you alone," he grinned. Tom scooted to the edge of the bed and stood, well, attempted to stand before collapsing on the floor. "Oops," he sounded like a little lost puppy and looked at his legs like they were not his own. Bo laughed but was immediately by his side, "I'm sorry but that was adorable," he smiled warmly as he sat Tom back down on the bed, crouching in front of him before kissing him on the flushed cheek.

"Oh my god," Tom tried to hide his mortified face.

"It's okay Tommy, what's worrying is that I was definitely too rough with you last night. You should have said something," he ran his hand up and down Tom's calf.

"No," Tom replied too quickly, "it was fine, it was....good," he went a deeper shade of red, "amazing, actually." He lifted his head up in time to see one of Bo's earth-shattering smiles. "Besides," Tom continued, "it's not like you would've listened, you have a personality transplant in bed." Bo had the decency to look a little embarrassed by that,

"Yeah, I've been told that before," he sounded hesitant but didn't look remotely ashamed. Tom finally found some strength in his legs and stood up weakly, "it's like watching Lucifer fall," he sassed as me made his way to the bathroom, to which Bo laughed. Ambrose had not been lying about Tom's appearance. He took in what he saw in the mirror with a mixture of pride, shame and arousal. His black hair was a mess, matted with sweat and what must have been cum. His face was okay, save the few indents of teeth marks around his beauty spots where Bo had showed his approval of them and the blatant attack on his lips. His neck was a different story, a scarf of hickeys, bites and bruises decorating all the way down, continuing on his chest, worst at his nipples. What wasn't covered in marks was covered in cum, his stomach and groin coated in the stuff. Finally lightly bruised handprints stood out on his deathly pale skin, three matching sets on his thighs, hips and ankles. Nothing hurt, aside from the very insistent ache in his arse. Tom had the kind of skin that could bruise against feathers, but this was intense even for him. "Wow....Fuck me..." he said, twisting and turning to catch every angle.

"That's exactly why I didn't," quipped Bo, appearing in the doorway, admiring Tom's naked form. Tom was about to scold him but Bo's body was equally massacred, long, painful-looking red scratches ran all over his back, chest and arms, he had almost as many bite marks covering his neck, all the way to his ears and his bottom lip bore the wound Tom had noted the night before. Well, at least you're both on the same page. Bo noted his look before smiling and pecking Tom on the lips, "it was the best," he whispered before ducking out the bathroom, Tom heard the kettle boiling again and recognised the smell of toast.

He showered efficiently, taking a couple of minutes to work up the courage to clean and sooth his stretched hole. It was sore, very sore, but not sore enough that he could resist indulging in more nights with Bo if the offer were ever made again. Will it ever be made again? He did practically tell you he was in love with you. Then again, you have even said you like him. Shit, did you not tell him you like him? Suddenly Tom was turning the shower off and roughly drying himself, his clothes had made their way into the bathroom at some point and he pulled them on. Dragging his fingers through his hair, he figured he would let the sun dry it. He desperately tried to place it to cover some of the marks of his neck, thank god for stage makeup. Bo was putting a variety of toast-related toppings on the dining table when Tom appeared, damp and flustered. "Tommy?" he sounded concerned, "Are you-,"

"Um," Tom interrupted, his voice overly loud, "I do like you, you know?" he fidgeted, "a lot. I know I'm supposed to be professional and shit, but last night was...," he gulped, "last night was me. No Ringmaster shit. I just...." he sounded far too emotional, "I just don't want you thinking it was working or anything because it wasn't. I did that with you because I like you and..." he was crying now. Smooth. Tom didn't have time to berate himself because he was being gathered into Bo's hard chest, the man was making little soothing noises and stroking Tom's damp hair. "Hey," he wiped away Tom's tears, "it's okay. I never thought it wasn't you okay? Last night was unbelievable but not once did I think you were doing it for work," he hugged Tom again. "You know how I feel about you, I know we hardly know each other but I really want to know you Tommy. Okay?" Tom couldn't do anything but nod into Bo's chest.

They chatted extensively over breakfast, about themselves, some of it superficial, some of it deep and secretive. Tom learnt about Ambrose's brother Darcy who ran a removals company which Bo helped out with from time to time - hence the great muscles. He learnt about how Bo had dropped out of his law degree four years in to become a critically acclaimed artist with no training, how he had worked his way up and was now being commissioned by celebrities and governments, whilst also holding award-winning exhibitions. Bo's father was a lecturer at Oxford, his mother had been a teacher until she had contracted a rare syndrome that meant she was now wheelchair bound. He grabbed his phone at one point, showing Tom the beautiful home in Oxford he had grown up in and the Barley, the labrador who assisted his mother and doubled as the family pet. Tom struggled to take in love and warmth that poured out of Bo as he regaled him with stories but put aside his self-pity to revel in the joy that Bo was feeling. "Jesus," he finally broke Bo's flow, "if everything's been that great, how did you turn out to be such a pervert?" Tom joked, gesturing to his bevy of battlescars. Bo smiled but his face shifted a little,

"Honestly, I was always more like that..." he gestured at Tom, "more on the intense, violent side. I was a terrible teenager, thought I was seriously cool and a rebel. Dyed my hair blue and got a bunch of piercings," Tom suddenly noticed a few, very faint holes in Bo's ears and a pair near his lips, Tom had only ever had his belly button pierced, which he had done on a whim with Caleb. "I had a few anger issues you see? Sean and Anne aren't actually mine and Darcy's parents, we were adopted when I was three and Darce was two, we're only like, eleven months apart."

"Adopted?" Bo's perfect life was unravelling at a rate of knots.

"Yeah, we were both always super cool with it, my parents are the best, we never wanted for anything, especially not love. But when was about seventeen I got it into my head that I wanted to meet my birth mother, that I 'needed to know who I was,' and stuff," he waggled his fingers, looking disgusted with himself. "You now what I'm like during sex? Times that by ten and you get what a dick I was. Arrogant, violent, it is who I am, but I never even tried to control it." He seemed to run out of steam there, looking angry and sad.

"But you're not like that now," Tom reached across the dining table and squeezed Bo's hand.

"I try not to be," he gave a weak smile, "I learnt to control it, I started drawing," he smiled more now. "I drew a picture for my mum, she's really pretty," he blushed, "she really loved it, she was already sick then, but she gave me this huge smile. Then I realised, even if deep down, I was a twisted, vain, arrogant man, I could lock that all away if it meant making people feel like that," he took as sip of tea like he hadn't just said something amazingly profound. "Slips out a bit during sex though," he added, completely ruining the effect.