Stephen padded silently across the dark fields between the tents, grateful that it was summer, and therefore warm. His heart beat a restless rhythm and his body felt fairly vibrating with it, down to the very soles of his feet on the damp grass. He darted furtively from tent to tent, wishing that his family's trailer were closer to the Big Top. He had no idea what sort of story he would concoct if he were caught. Couldn't exactly say he was heading out to the bathroom; it was in the opposite direction from the trailer. And his nudity would be difficult to explain in any case.
Stephen thought of the note that Claude had slipped casually into his hand before dinner with a smile and a wink. He hadn't brought the small slip of paper with him, having no pockets to put it in, but he remembered the terse message verbatim:
Stephen
Come to the Big Top tonight. 1 AM. Naked.
Claude
Stephen shivered, and not from the temperature of the air. He paused outside the rear performers' entrance flap of the huge central tent used for the traveling circus's main shows, and tried to calm himself with steady breaths. It didn't work; his heart only beat faster, his flesh tingling with anticipation. Glancing around for the umpteenth time to see whether anyone was about—no one—he slipped inside the tent.
As he walked forward, his eyes adjusted slowly to the gloom. It had been dark outside, but a nearly-full moon and copious starlight, as well as a handful of lights in front of some of the trailers, had made it easy to see where he was going. Inside the tent it was much darker, all light blocked by the heavy plastic sheeting that made up the walls.
"Claude?" Stephen called softly, questioningly. He moved forward tentatively, through the backstage area and into the central performance ring. There was no sign of the young man who had called him there. "Claude?" he whispered again. "Are you there?"
Suddenly his eyes were dazzled by brightness; the loud clank of a spotlight coming on hit his ears a split second later as he found himself caught by the beam, paralyzed like a rabbit in a headlight. Stephen raised a hand up to shield his eyes, and waited for the light to burn away his night vision and allow him to see again.
The first thing he noticed was the lion's pedestal beside him, also illuminated by the light. It was a large stand, over five feet wide at the top - the lions were always larger than people imagined they were - but not more than two feet high, with ever-so-slightly sloped sides, colorfully painted. As his eyes finally began to adjust to the brightness of the spotlight, he could make out behind the beam of light a shadowy figure sauntering down the steps of the tiered seating. The lights were located behind the seats, in the very back on raised platforms, so Claude must have turned on the spotlight himself, Stephen realized.
And Claude it was, becoming more visible as he descended from the audience and opened the gate into the main ring. He seemed dreadfully mysterious in the gloom, his dark, disheveled hair catching silvery-gold highlights, but leaving his face in darkness. He was also wearing his lion tamer costume, Stephen noticed, a red suit something like a band conductor, with gold buttons and trim. Stephen felt acutely vulnerable in his nakedness, in the face of that uniform.
"I'm glad you came," Claude murmured. "I was worried you would be too frightened."
Stephen stiffened slightly under the implied insult, raising his chin. "Well, I wasn't," he said defiantly.
Claude reached him and raised a white-gloved hand to Stephen's cheek. "No, you were not," he purred. "So then, let's start the show. Go kneel on the pedestal."
Stephen was once again aware of his fantastically quick heartbeat, and considered arguing with Claude. But the young man gave his commands in a voice accustomed to controlling beasts far more fearsome than Stephen. Almost unable to help himself, Stephen stepped up onto the lion stand and knelt, sitting back between his feet.
Claude came up in front of him and grasped Stephen's wrists firmly. His eyes, dark and glittering in the sharp shadows beneath his hair, sought Stephen's, locking their gazes. Holding him steadily with that gaze, Claude lowered his head and drew one of Stephen's fingers into his mouth.
Stephen moaned, both at the sensation and the erotic impact of the sight. Claude continued to hold his gaze as he carefully laved each finger in turn with his tongue, bathing them almost religiously with long, wet laps. Stephen felt the nimble tongue in each crevice of his knuckle, each whorl of his fingertip, no fraction of skin left untouched. When at last he was finished, Claude drew back abruptly, letting go of Stephen's wrists and taking a step backwards, so that Stephen felt his absence as a palpable loss.
"Arms behind you," came the commanding voice and, startled, Stephen obeyed, stretch his arms out behind him with an instinctively theatrical gesture. "And down," Claude continued. "Elbows between your ankles, hands palm to palm."
This movement might have been difficult for someone who was not a trained contortionist, but for Stephen it was a simple matter of arched back, stretched spine, flexed muscles, head bent backwards over his feet. The position, with its clasped hands, felt oddly prayer-like, and his limbs tingled pleasantly. Claude moved around behind him, and Stephen craned his neck in an attempt to follow the movement. The young lion-tamer withdrew something from the pocket of his uniform - a ribbon, it seemed. Stephen could not make out the expression on Claude's face as the young man looped the ribbon under his left ankle and over his elbow, tying his arm and leg together behind him. Claude circled further, another ribbon emerging, and tied the right side in the same fashion.
Stephen heard his own breath coming in frightened pants. It was difficult to stay focused on Claude, who moved around him in the shadows, circling like a large, fearsome predator. And then Claude's hands were on his wrist again, moving his arm forward in the restricted give of Stephen's bondage. Stephen's eyes widened as he felt his fingers come into contact with his own behind, and he realized what Claude meant to have him do.
"No, please," he moaned, and yet he was aroused despite himself, cock twitching and rising into the warm, still air.
"Yes," Claude murmured. "Fingers straight. Push them in. Just the two pointers. Do it."
Stephen whimpered, but straightened his pointer fingers, felt them nudge at his own anus. He paused here, hesitant, but Claude held his wrist firmly, and a second gloved hand came to rest on Stephen's pelvis, just above his cock, pushing back and down, forcing Stephen backwards onto his own fingers, cleaving himself open.
"Rock," said Claude quietly, inexorably. "Rock back on them. Fuck yourself with them."
Stephen did as he was told—couldn't help himself. His hips moved in small, rolling gestures, impaling himself on his own outstretched fingers. He felt the hot, tight velvet sensation of being inside himself and the full, breached feeling of being entered simultaneously, and the movement of his hips came as though from outside himself.
"Yes," Claude hissed again, and Stephen felt the predatory eyes on him, felt them measuring and devouring him from the shadows.
"More," said Claude. "Second finger from each hand."
Stephen shook his head, afraid, heart pounding. But Claude whispered, "Do it!" commanding him, and he was powerless. He stretched his middle fingers forward on an upward roll, and as he moved backwards once again, impaled himself upon four digits. He hissed at the added girth, but it was not painful, as he might have expected. Claude's wetness still clung to his fingers, and they slipped inside of him as though meant to be there, breaching him, spreading him obscenely open, terrible and shamefully pleasurable. Stephen's cock pulsed with sensation, begging vainly to be touched.
Stephen's thrusts became faster, moving desperately towards something he could not see. It was all too much, and yet not enough, not nearly enough, and his cock was weeping for lack of contact, but his hands could not move, could not come around as he wanted them to.
"All of it." Claude's whisper was suddenly right beside him, breath hot on his ear.
"No." Stephen's eyes widened, and he tossed his head. "No!"
"Yes!" The hissed voice brooked no argument.
"I can't!" Stephen protested. "I can't! It's too much!"
"You can," came the dark, hot voice. "You will. Do it."
Stephen swallowed, raised his hips forward off of his fingers. Straightened them all out, truly like a prayer now. Swallowed again.
"Do it."
Stephen dropped himself back down with a quick jolt, his mouth opening in a silent, gasping cry as eight fingers slid into him, slid his hips down, down, until he felt both hands resting inside him up to the base of his thumbs. He took several choking breaths in through his mouth, unable to stop gasping, his eyes staring unseeing up and behind him, head bent nearly down to the soles of his feet.
Without warning, his wide, gaping mouth was filled by flesh. Claude had come to stand behind him, and filled Stephen's open, upside-down mouth with his cock. Stephen hadn't even heard the sound of his zipper. Claude slid in easily, taking advantage of the stunning effect of Stephen's penetration effectively doubling in size and simply gliding into the open orifice. Stephen nearly choked at first as the cock slid down into his throat, Claude's balls hanging just over his nose, filling his lungs with a thick, musty scent.
Claude began to thrust, one hand holding each side of Stephen's head, and Stephen couldn't have kept his body still if he'd tried. The rocking motion moved his arms, and now that they were all in, it was impossible for him to remove his fingers. Each thrust of Claude into his mouth drove his fingers into himself in a smaller echo—repeated short, sharp jabs of his fingers drilling into his own anus. He groaned in pleasured agony, and felt Claude's thrusts speed up in response.
The thickness of his own fingers inside him was unbearable; he felt cleaved nearly in half, stuffed full of flesh. He flexed his fingers in an attempt to find relief, but this only sent a new shudder of sensation vibrating through his body, shaking him from head to foot.
On and on it went, until Stephen was seeing stars even with his eyes open, points of light that burst and swirled and crackled in front of him. Then, just when he thought he could take no more, he must pass out from sheer sensation overload, there was a hot, bitter flood of liquid into his mouth as Claude came, pouring sperm down his throat. Stephen swallowed desperately, choking and coughing, and felt some of the liquid spill from the sides of his mouth and run down his cheeks.
Claude withdrew from his mouth with a contented sigh. "Such a lovely, warm mouth you have," he murmured, stroking Stephen's hair. "Oh, but I see you haven't come yet yourself. Perhaps you should enjoy it too, then."
Stephen was too dazed to process the meaning of Claude's words, but he did notice when Claude untied the ribbons and mercilessly yanked Stephen's hands out from his anus. Stephen gasped at the sudden, harsh sensation, and the suddenly empty feeling as the warm flesh disappeared from inside him. Stephen felt confused, as though his head was full of clouds, as Claude brought his arms back forward, and his legs around in front of him, encouraging Stephen to lie down on his back. His spine felt an pleasant, uncurling relief as it let go of its taut bend, but then Stephen frowned in confusion as Claude began to bend him the other way, lifting his hips, pulling his legs back over his head…
Stephen realized what Claude was doing only as the head of his own cock came to nudge at his lips. He'd suspected he could do this, thought about doing it before, but he'd always been too afraid to try. Now it seemed he would have no choice, as Claude forcibly curled him, bending his spine forward this time, forcing Stephen's cock into his own mouth.
It was strange, almost miraculous. The shameful feeling of a man's cock breaching his lips from before was combined with tight, pleasurable suction on his member, entirely at his own direction. Hesitantly at first, and then with embarrassing enthusiasm, he sucked at the cock, feeling only peripherally that Claude was once again securing him with the ribbons, tying his arms to his legs and forcing him to maintain his curled position.
Shudders of pleasure swam along his nerves, sliding up through his body, and Stephen raised his head, trying to get as much of his cock into his mouth and down his throat as he could, seeking out the pleasure. From somewhere above him, he heard Claude chuckle.
"Such eagerness. You better be careful doing that. You're going to make me want a second go."
Stephen was beyond processing the words. All he knew was the curl of pleasure unfolding inside him, the heat and wetness around his cock, the pleasures of his own tongue. He felt the gloved hands on him once more, knew dimly in the back of his mind that this was Claude, Claude was touching him, but no more than that.
His own balls were hanging in front of him now, hair tickling at his nose, musky scent strong. The sheer obscenity of it egged Stephen onward, made him groan and pant against his own cock, loving the vibration in his throat.
And then finally, a sensation strong enough to distract him from his own pleasure, as Claude breached his exposed anus first with the tips of his fingers—little more than vanguards, holding him open, and then with the returning girth of his cock, once again hardened from Stephen's own performance. "Yes," came Claude's voice, a groan, as his cock slid easily down Stephen's well-prepared shaft, deeper and deeper, until the entire throbbing length was buried inside him.
Stephen whimpered, the sound sending renewed shocks of pleasure down his cock, and continued sucking, all he could do as Claude thrust, and thrust, and began a rhythm as he had before in Stephen's mouth, with wet, slick sounds accompanying his movement.
They moved in tandem, rhythms soon syncing, and Claude's cock brushed inside him just right, and again, and over and over until Stephen thought he would die, couldn't stand it, it was too much pleasure, too much sensation everywhere, and the thought of everything, all of it too much-
It was the hot bloom and pulsing sensation of Claude coming inside him that finally tipped him over, and Stephen exploded into his own mouth, feeling the heat against his tongue and inside his ass at the same time, feeling as though every inch of his flesh absorbed the warmth, feeling himself radiating it like a sun.
Claude untied him after a moment, and Stephen flopped bonelessly onto the lion stand, panting, cum beginning to ooze out of his anus and a stray burst drying on the corner of his mouth. Claude sat on the floor beside him, stroking his hair nonchalantly, as though petting an animal.
When he finally regained enough energy to move, Stephen lifted his head and stared at Claude. The young man's cheeks were flushed, his dark hair shaggy and messy as it always was. Some of the warmth from before burst in Stephen's chest, and he leaned forward as best he could manage with his tired muscles and kissed Claude, slow and sweet.
"I take it that means you'd be up for doing this again some time?" Claude asked with a chuckle as they parted.
"I imagine I could be convinced," Stephen replied.