Good Boy - The Freak Circus - Jester/Jack
Ao3 Link: here
Warnings: Dom/sub, BDSM, Mentions of Nonconsensual Drugging and Abortion, Breeding, Heat Cycles, Rough Sex, Jester Would Make For A Bad Romantic Partner
After ignoring his instincts for too long, Jack goes into heat and asks Jester to help him out. Reluctantly, Jester agrees to help. Jack is a original character owned by @sky-aries.
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Jester could smell the aroma long before he saw its source.
Like burnt vanilla and fermented pineapple; like the drool from a dog staring at the steak on its master’s plate. It slipped underneath the tent coverings, where the artificial fabric didn’t quite meet the dirt. To say Jester didn’t recognize the scent would be both the truth and a lie; the scent was most certainly of a monster steeped in instinctual lust, he just didn’t know from whom.
He’d certainly be able to recognize Ticket Taker’s, a frequent bedfellow for him, and Harlequin’s, whose lust seemed endless; a leaky faucet that never gets fixed. Doctor’s, however, Jester has rarely gotten the scent of his, but the Doctor’s was far more like the burnt ashes of a flower bouquet, far from the sweetness of the surrounding scent. It had been some time since Jester had gotten to scent Pierrot’s; his own instinctual desire to breed having died with his old paramour. Then again, while Jester had only the faintest memories of Pierrot’s pheromones, he remembered it being sickeningly sweet.
What gave Jester a bit of hesitation before deeming the culprit to be Pierrot was how feminine the pheromones are. A subtle indication, a whisper spoken by instinct. To quantify the difference between a masculine rut and a feminine heat is to ask a blind man to describe the difference between closing one’s eyes and complete blindness. Near impossible to describe in words, it is merely that one’s brain just knows it. With no member of the Circus having the proper equipment for a heat, Jester couldn’t believe it was any of his longtime cohorts.
So, unless Pierrot underwent some drastic physical changes without Jester finding out about it, it was unlikely to be Pierrot. It’s not unheard of for their kind to make such physical changes; their biologies were far more varied and undefinable. But Jester knew that if any such changes did happen, he could trust that Pierrot would have told him immediately. It left only one real possibility. A certain more recent companion.
“Jack,” Jester called out correctly to the source of all the dizzying pheromones just as Jack stumbled into Jester’s tent.
“I, I, Jester,” the miserable boy whimpered out his words, fumbling over the lust underneath. It was a bit concerning when Jack’s eyes met Jester’s, seeing how he was barely walking the line between conscious and feral. A look that reminded Jester of a certain incident where Jack’s feral hunger clawed its way to overtaking his mind.
What was lust, if not hunger wearing a different face? Could Jack recognize either right now?
A thousand plans were quickly drafted in case escape was deemed necessary. It was late at night; no doubt the others were fast asleep, far enough away that shouting might not work fast enough to get help. While Jester might be dwarfed both in strength and height by Jack, that left Jester far more lithe and quick. Depending on how hindered Jack’s mind was, Jester was more than cunning enough to strategize around the potential threat.
Potential threat. Ah, no, no, Jester scolds himself; he must not refer to his own family like that.
“Are you alright, Jack?” Jester asks, using the question as a risk assessment. Stepping forward as if Jester’s question was an order, even just a single step almost sent Jack to the floor. Jester watched as Jack took another, his mind scrambling, trying to choose between safe but insulting or compassionate but dangerous.
All of Jester’s plans of escape are torn apart as Jack rushes forward, landing on his knees before Jester, arms wrapping around the calf of Jester’s left leg. With his chin halfway up Jester’s leg, Jack looked up at his savior, eyes pleading for Jester to save him again. “Jester, I, I need,” Jack’s breath was hot; even with clothes between them, Jester could feel the warmth. “I, help me.”
Releasing the breath he had been holding in case of danger, Jester brought a hand up and brushed some of the soft, deep blue locks out of Jack’s face. His cap hung low and crooked, worn and forgotten, the hair on his head left messy like he’d just gotten out of bed after a horrid night terror. His round face was so flushed that Jester could see it underneath the smeared face paint. The bright red ruff he wore around his neck, left forgotten elsewhere, too tight and too hot for him to wear.
“Help? What do you need help with? Are you okay?” Jester decided to play dumb to not embarrass the puppy at his feet. The answer was, of course, obvious, considering how it filled his nose with temptation.
A needy moan emanated from Jack’s closed mouth, lips pulled wide and flat. The grip around Jester’s leg tightened, not enough to hurt but hard to ignore, Jack’s cheek rubbing against his thigh. His shame and his need locked in combat, the heat of internal struggle burning Jack from the inside.
“I,” his voice came out quietly, hardly even a whisper; each word impossible to say, yet somehow slipped out. He knew what he wanted, and he was too afraid to see the look on Jester’s face if he said it, so Jack kept his face turned into the other’s thigh. “I need you to, to breed me, please.”
Even if Jester didn’t show it, that request caught him off guard. Out of anyone Jack could have asked, he had asked Jester of all his options, either consciously or unconsciously, within his haze. Though after giving it a bit more thought, it made sense, because the only other person who Jack could ask that’d agree would be Harlequin. However, there was no doubt that Harlequin would make for a bad, absent parent, and while Jester wouldn’t say he’d be a good one either, he’d at least take part in raising a baby.
Right, a baby, the downside of sexual intercourse. The Circus was no place for an infant, nor any child of any age. Not just with all the less savory things the Circus had to do to survive, but the danger of the child being seen, or even heard, by humans. If the child could pass off as human enough, then it’d be of minor concern, but their kind’s youth struggle to hide their inhuman nature no matter how passing they could be.
Then just thinking about all the resources that’d have to be set aside for an infant. Even forgetting the gestation period, the child would need someone to monitor them; taking away manpower they certainly couldn’t spare. Jester could hardly trust any of the others to properly do that at all; no one in the Circus had any experience with child-rearing. He didn’t even entertain having any of their Fools doing that job, not with how… absentminded they were.
But acquiring the physical resources needed as well would be a struggle in itself. A crib, bedding to go with the crib, diapers, clothing, and feeding supplies. That’s right, Jester himself didn’t know what their kind’s infants even ate, not with him never seeing one for more than in passing. Did they need to consume human flesh as well, or could they subsist off their mother’s milk? Could Jack even-
The feeling of pressure grinding onto his boot pulls Jester out of his thoughts he’d fallen into debating for far too long. That pressure, Jester realizes quickly, is Jack rubbing his pelvis in a desperate search for relief. Jester couldn’t even tell if Jack was doing it on purpose, or if he even knew he was doing it at all.
Jester is not one to leave any of his ensemble suffering by themselves, even despite his hesitation to help in this way. “Very well,” he couldn’t help but sigh. “Follow me.”
It took more of an effort to tear himself away from Jack’s grip than he expected, and not due to his lack of trying. If they were going to do this, Jester would rather it be further from the entrance to his tent, where the two of them could have some semblance of privacy.
Jester watched as Jack fumbled to his feet, as if he could hardly urge his body to move. It doesn’t seem to work, as Jack is hardly halfway to standing before his legs buckle underneath him and he falls to the ground. Sure, Jester has seen his kind either rutting or in heat, but never to this level that an individual can barely function; how long had Jack been ignoring his corrupting instincts?
“I’m not carrying you, crawl if you must,” not that Jester is going to pamper Jack even in this state. He’s never been the kindest of bedmates, now would be no different.
There's enough of an obedient Jack left in control for him to nod, his body managing at least to crawl along the floor like a mutt. With patience and a dash of amusement, Jester watched Jack follow him deeper into his tent; his hands and knees scraping against the rugs that Jester had collected over the years.
Jack followed the purple blur in his vision until he caught up to it, standing just before the rather spartan bed that Jester tried to make more comfortable with cushions and plush blankets. Though to Jack, he could only see the colors in the fog, dark and consuming; Jester’s purple a beacon of hope for him to crawl to. Like it was a need, Jack’s hands once again grasped at Jester’s clothes like a starved beast.
This time, Jester reached down, resting Jack’s cheek in his hand and tilting his head up. “Good boy,” he praised his obedient little puppy, relishing in how Jack melted at just two sweet words. Adorable, even Jester couldn’t deny such an obvious fact. His hand slid lower, scratching gently just below Jack’s jaw, and that only made Jack melt more into Jester. He’s done so mockingly, but any intended jest was lost with Jack’s pleased hum.
“Now what should I do with you?” Jester pondered, taking his time just so he could watch Jack fall more into his lust. His thumb presses against the other’s mouth, a silent order to open it that Jack obeys. The digit is forced deep into his mouth, pressing down on Jack’s tongue enough to make him gag a little before Jester slides it over onto his teeth. The pad of his thumb slowly drags across each carnivorous tooth as he stares into Jack’s eyes, the look in the latter’s a feral mess of lust, admiration, need, and something much more hungry.
There’s a sharp slice of pain that has Jester withdrawing his hand from Jack’s mouth. Blood pearling around a small incision made by two teeth on his thumb, bright red blood serving as a reminder. The wound is trivial, not even worth wasting a bandage on, not with Jester’s blood already clotting, starving the air of blood.
Despite his teeth having made such a slight injury, hardly even enough of one to be called one, the scent of Jester’s blood was enough to end Jack’s world. “I! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I, I just-” his words spilled out, frantic, fearful that he’d lose Jester to his own stupid, uncontrollable instincts. His hands reach up, fumbling to find Jester’s arm, like holding onto Jester would be enough to stop him from leaving. “Please, I didn’t mean to, I just, just need this. Please. Please.”
Every word Jack says is progressively quieter than the last, yet just the same, more yearning. Truly, Jester couldn’t help but wonder how this poor example of his own kind had survived in such a cruel world before he’d joined their patchwork family? Luck and pity, he answers himself.
“Jack,” Jester’s voice silenced the desperate mumbling for forgiveness coming from Jack. “I know you didn’t mean to; it’s okay.”
Jack’s eyes, black and shiny, turned towards Jester for a second before he wrapped his arms around Jester’s legs. The sudden pull on his legs almost gets Jester to lose his balance. Almost sighing once more tonight, Jester lets Jack use his legs to ground himself again. The quiet stinging from the bite wound, however, serves as a reminder to Jack’s own dangerous capabilities. More than that, it's also a warning not to put anything important in Jack’s mouth.
“Let go,” Jester orders when he believes Jack has calmed himself enough. Like the words burned him, Jack removed his hold on Jester, letting Jester step back. “Stay there. Let me prepare some things before we start.”
Listening to Jester move away from him makes Jack fidget in anxiety, as if Jester will just leave him there. But putting his trust and submission in Jester, he listens as Jester pulls and opens items around him, trying his best the burning hunger between his legs. He’s failing at that, every second near torture and worsening by the moment, his instincts screaming to just stand up and get what he wants. By force, if necessary.
Jack perks right up when the comforting purple blur returns, leaning forward, desperate for Jester’s hands on his skin again. Instead, Jester’s hands reach behind Jack’s neck, leading back to the front as a sturdy, well-crafted leather closes around his neck. It’s only when he saw the leash that it clicked in his head that what was wrapped around his neck was a collar. Sliding his fingers along the collar, Jack could feel lace; floral black lace on deep, dyed purple leather.
“Open your mouth,” Jester ordered.
Jack blinks twice, mind still focused on the collar. It felt weird for him to wear; it felt right for him to wear. Like a clock's missing hand, returned to its duty. “A collar?” he mumbled, unsure if the red hot blush on his face was from his heat or the collar.
The leash tugs Jack forward, not enough to hurt him, nowhere near enough to make him choke, just enough to pull him into reality. “Open,” this time, Jester’s tone deepens as he commands Jack to submit. “Your mouth.”
Swallowing the drool that had collected in his mouth, Jack tentatively opened his mouth hoping expecting that he’s welcoming in Jester’s cock. Just the idea of choking around Jester’s cock made Jack’s own sex throb in excitement. Instead, however, a sizable silicone ball is pressed inside, locking between Jack’s teeth, a leather strap rubbing against the sides of his mouth to keep the ball from being what Jack choked on instead. “Good boy,” his obedience means more praise from Jester.
A disappointed whine comes from Jack’s throat, muffled by the ball gag in his mouth. He looks up, searching for Jester’s face among the fog in his vision and finding it too far away for him to really make out if his expression was gentle or cold. “While I forgive you for that little nick you gave me,” his hand, the one not holding the leash, brushed against Jack’s face, and Jack nearly melted into the touch like candle wax. “We can’t have you nipping.”
As much as he wanted his mouth free to lick, suck, and bite, Jack knew Jester was right. Jester was always right. So he nodded, earning another scratch under his chin that was a good enough substitute for his disappointment.
The leash gained a bit of slack, Jester taking a step back, ignoring how Jack scrambled to keep his hands on his savior. “Good boy,” he cooed, before his voice flattened to demand more from Jack. “Now take off your clothes.”
Jack’s heart thundered against his ribcage, mind alight with excitement that something he dreamed of was actually happening. His hands fumbled for his clothes, hands faltering like he’s never put on or ever removed his own costume. “Slower,” Jester gave additional instructions that Jack quickly followed.
Piece by piece, Jack’s costume was dropped to the side as he kneeled before Jester until he was as nude as the day he was born. He was trembling, and Jack was sure that Jester could hear his heart screaming in his chest. His bones ached with need and desperation, his skin craving Jester’s touch, even just a gentle brush would do. If he waited any longer, the control Jack had over himself would snap, and Jack so desperately didn’t want to disappoint Jester.
“Lean back and spread your legs. I want to see what I’m working with,” Jester’s voice was enough to stop Jack’s mind from going mad with lust for now, at least.
Parting his legs and leaning back, using his arms to keep himself upright, Jack did as he was told, baring his drenched slit to Jester. The air inside the tent is so cold on Jack’s skin, but near scalding on his sex. Jester noted Jack’s body, that while still rather masculine presenting with only hints of femininity, still possessed a vagina; Jester could assume that it also came with a womb that Jack so desperately wanted filled. His cunt, so wet and needy, almost shimmered in the low light. Even if Jester wouldn’t admit something so vulgar out loud, it was pretty, if a bit understated; a more simplified idea of a vagina, one lacking labia minora. Thankfully, nothing too far outside of typical anatomy, nothing that Jester would struggle with. Jack earns another bit of praise, Jester reinforcing Jack’s obedience.
Jack was whimpering under Jester’s gaze, his pleading kept silent with the gag in his mouth, until the bottom of Jester’s boot pressed into his stomach, the heel grinding against Jack’s clit. “Stay still,” Jester instructed once more when Jack faltered out of his pose. Without a word, Jack nodded, limbs trembling as he struggled to obey. He almost failed again when Jester’s heel pressed down on his clit, mercilessly grinding down on the overly sensitive ball of nerves; the bell on the boot quietly jingling with every movement.
Fuck, it felt so good. It shouldn’t, but Jack’s body is so desperate for relief that it’d take any abuse and turn it into pleasure. Jack tried to stop himself and found himself on the losing side, his hips rising to push back on the boot for just a little more stimulation. The sight of Jack’s sheer need made Jester click his tongue at such a pathetic display.
“So eager, aren’t you Jack?” Jester couldn’t help but smile at such a well-behaved mate, one so ready to obey. It felt like Jack was spoiling him, offering himself up like this. “So sensitive, too. I bet I could make you cum just like this.”
Jester was probably right too, he always was, after all. But he would not bother proving himself right, removing his boot from Jack’s stomach and lifting it higher. With a single nudge of his foot, Jester kicks Jack’s shoulder back. A kick was far from hard enough to hurt, but the unexpectedness of it made Jack fall onto his back, the wind being knocked out of him, his legs flying up into the air. Sprawled out on the floor, Jack watched as a dark shadow stood over him, one leg over his shoulder and the other one under his opposing armpit.
“I’m disappointed Jack, why didn’t you come to me earlier instead of hiding your heat until it got this bad? I thought you trusted me,” Jester knew his words were telling a false narrative, but that didn’t stop him from digging the guilty knife into Jack’s chest. It was a good thing that Jester had already gagged Jack; no doubt Jack would plead for forgiveness if he wasn’t. “But it’s okay; I understand you were feeling shy. You’re still so new to our circus, our home, you didn’t want to ruin it so soon.” Jack nodded, desperately agreeing. “However, everyone here helps one another out, even in intimate matters like this. We would have helped you; you didn’t have to let yourself get to this point. In the future, come to us when you have these urges.”
“Right now, however, I am willing to be the one to help you through these urges. But,” the leash went taut, just enough to remind Jack of his circumstances, like he could even forget. “I should warn you, I am not gentle. I will not go easy on you. Do not expect me to be like a lover to you. I’m giving you the chance now to back out, and I will fetch someone else who will be a bit more to your tastes. So, shake your head if you desire a more gentle touch from someone else.”
Jack didn’t want anyone else; he wanted, he needed it to be Jester. So instead he nodded frantically, his begging for Jester to just shove him into the ground and fuck him until he’s crying coming out as moaning and saliva from around the ball in his mouth.
It felt like it was his birthday with the way Jester felt so spoiled with such an enthusiastic present ready to unwrap below him. Rolling his wrist, Jester wraps the leash twice around his hand before pulling hard up; the shortened length of the leash picking Jack off the floor by the neck. The vertebrae in Jack’s neck strain against the leash, Jack’s hands grappling up to pull himself closer to Jester by his clothes; to relieve some pressure, but truly he only desires to hold Jester against him.
He’s pulled up, whimpering the entire way, until he pulls himself up far enough that his face presses into Jester’s crotch. If not for the gag in his mouth, Jack would have done anything to taste Jester, but just being close enough to breathe in Jester’s scent was enough for now. The emptiness in his throat remained, however.
“Oh, just look at you, Jack. It’s like you're drunk with lust,” Jester’s free hand ran through Jack’s hair, coming to a stop behind his head. “I almost have to wonder, have you been dreaming of this?”
Maybe it was a good thing that the gag was stopping Jack from replying; he didn’t think he could lie to Jester right now. Not that it’d even matter, Jester always saw right through him. Instead, Jack could only whine, eyes screaming out his needs even if they couldn’t really focus on anything at all.
“You’re mine, my obedient little mutt,” all at once, he let go of Jack, letting him fall back to the floor with a firm thump. “I’ll give you exactly what you need.”
The purple blur moved away from Jack, pulling the leash with him, forcing Jack onto his hands and knees to follow. Only once does Jester need to give an encouraging tug when Jack stumbles over his hands, just having to keep the leash a little taut to direct him forward.
Jester sits on his bed as if it were a throne for him, silently urging Jack closer, then up. Even through the blur, Jack can see Jester pat his lap, an order left unspoken but clear. With no hesitation, instead filled with excitement, Jack pulled himself up and onto Jester; sitting with his legs lying on the bed, entwining with the sheets, and his arms wrapped around Jester’s neck. His hot breath being pushed around the ball onto Jester’s neck, where he buries his face between the crook of Jester’s neck and shoulder. He almost falls apart when he feels Jester’s arm curl around his back and grip his thigh, pulling Jack closer so he doesn’t fall off.
With another silent order, Jester’s knuckles tap against the inside of Jack’s thighs. Peeking over the other’s shoulders, Jack opened up his legs and watched, panting and drooling, as Jester’s hand slid closer to his aching cunt.
Jack almost cried, feeling just a single finger drag down his slit, his hold on Jester tightening before he could stop himself. He’s quick to fix his hold, not daring to even risk making Jester change his mind. Not that Jester hadn’t noticed the slick soaking into his pants nor the drool dripping on his collarbone; it had slipped Jack’s attention. If Jack was so inpatient, then Jester had no reason to be patient either; after all, Jack was more than ready.
Two of Jester’s fingers thrust deep into Jack, the slickness allowing the sudden intrusion possible despite how tight Jack was. A sharp mewl leaves Jack, teeth digging into firm silicone and hips thrusting into Jester’s hand. His claws twitch, flex once, Jack thinks twice about where his claws shouldn’t dig, and instead presses his face into Jester’s neck.
Breathing in Jester’s scent like it's a drug, Jack whimpered and cried as Jester’s fingers dragged along his soft walls. The way Jester’s fingers dive deep into Jack’s sex feels near transcendent, pure ecstasy. Perhaps it was just how deep Jack was in his own heat, or maybe it was because it was Jester’s fingers that a touch as little as this could bring this much pleasure. Jack couldn’t tell, not that there was much reason to care.
“Just relax, Jack,” Jester reassured the trembling mess in his arms.
Using a loud, high-pitched moan as an agreement, Jester tilted his hand into Jack’s pelvis, palm grinding into Jack’s clit with every thrust of his fingers. This is hardly anything new to Jester, and with how Jack was, it made his work all the easier. In, out, press up with his fingers, abuse the parts that made Jack sob out the most, in, out. The lewd sound of his fingers being fucked into Jack filled the room, mixing with his muffled whimpering to create a truly desirable song just for Jester.
While Jack’s mind can focus only on pleasure, hardly even that really, Jester’s mind was just focused on understanding Jack’s body. He felt drenched in Jack’s pheromones, tempting his own instincts to surrender into a rut of his own, to plant his seed deep into Jack over and over. But he was better than that; Jester couldn’t allow himself to fall to such a primitive instinct. Focus on Jack, Jester reminds himself; this is just so he can get back to work when morning comes.
His fingers slowly felt out Jack’s tight cunt, mapping the slick walls as his hand was drenched in Jack’s arousal. In time, his fingers find where Jack seems most sensitive, far in the back, so close to the cervix, trailing down halfway to the opening. The walls separate something that sits between the vaginal walls and the pelvis. Jester, finding a small, almost impossible to find opening where the pouch seems to open into the vagina. So Jack has a penis as well, Jester realizes with great fascination; he’s never laid with someone with both masculine and feminine genitalia.
Jester’s thirst for information is cut short as Jack’s finger digs into his back, claws pushing into his skin and threatening to slice into him. Any control Jack has over himself loosens as his orgasm gets closer, not even noticing Jester flinching as his claws draw blood from Jester.
A sharp scoff leaves Jester’s lips, pulling his arm wrapped around Jack away, grabbing the back of Jack’s collar. In a single pull, Jester tears Jack off his lap and throws him onto Jester’s bedsheets. Jack whines at how empty his cunt feels when Jester’s fingers were dragged out of him as he was thrown back. Jester wastes no time in pressing three fingers into him to make up for the sudden loss. Planting himself between Jack’s legs and kneeling on Jack’s left thigh to pin him down, Jester’s hand that grips the leash curls around Jack’s neck.
There is no fear in Jack’s eyes as Jester’s grip tightens around his throat, cutting off oxygen as his cunt can barely handle how brutally Jester’s fingers slam into him. His eyes are on Jester, gazing at him like Jester is his lover, his god, trusting Jester implicitly even as he’s slowly choked out. His head swam from the lack of oxygen, the feeling only heightening the sensation of his slit being abused.
Jack’s fingers wrap around Jester’s wrist that pushes his neck down as Jack reaches orgasm. His spine curls up, sobbing through the gag with complete hedonistic ecstasy. To him, right now, nothing could compare to his climax.
Yet despite how clearly Jack orgasmed around Jester’s fingers, Jester's fingers only slammed into him harder. Not out of a lack of noticing it, but because of him feeling Jack orgasm. Overstimulation floods and drowns Jack, writhing beneath Jester’s grip as his oxygen is completely cut off. His hold on Jester’s wrist tightens enough to bruise before he lets go, reaching above him and clawing at the bedsheets in a pathetic attempt to get away from the painful pleasure that’s overwhelming him.
Jester forces a second orgasm out of Jack, deciding to give the other a break as tears stream down Jack’s face. He released his grip from Jack’s neck, moving it up to wipe away some tears. There’s quiet as Jack slowly falls down from the heights of a second orgasm, chest heaving in air.
Once Jester deems Jack conscious enough, he leans over and gets his face close enough that Jack can make out his features. “Do you wish to stop now, my mutt?”
With eyelashes wetted with tears, Jack gazed up at Jester and shook his head. No, no, Jack still needed more; this wasn’t enough.
“Very well,” Jester sits up, eyes shifting to his torn blankets with a grimace. “However, it seems like I need to take more precautions to prevent you from destroying my belongings.” Jack’s grip loosens on the torn blankets, eyes fluttering from Jester to the blankets, then back to Jester. What sounds like an apology is mumbled, a poor attempt at a guilty pout. Jester just sighs, “Roll over onto your stomach.”
The mattress shifts as Jester gets up, moving across the space to Jack’s sorrow, even if for a moment he doesn’t want to be left alone. Not that his loneliness would stop him from obeying Jester, pushing himself over to lie face down, burying his face into the soft sheets. He listens intently as Jester fetches more items; the slight slipping of leather, wood being released of slight weights, metal clinking against metal. Like an old dog chewing on their bone, Jack’s teeth dug into the silicone ball, digging, gnashing with each passing second.
When Jester returns, his hands pull Jack’s arms behind his back, bent so that both forearms layer over each other. More leather slides across Jack’s skin, cuffing halfway up his biceps and binding his forearms; rendering his arms immobile. Another wordless order is given when Jester pulls on Jack’s hips, his ass sticking up while his face remains buried in the blankets.
“Relax your body,” Jester trails his fingers up Jack’s spine, pushing Jack’s spine to a less strained position with it bending towards the bed beneath. His hand reaches Jack’s neck, and despite how much Jack needed Jester’s touch, Jester only retrieves the leash before it’s gone. “Keep that pose, yes, just like that. Good boy.”
The position Jester had pulled him into left Jack trembling; all of him was exposed to Jester, he could see everything. His starved cunt, how it trembled, his own fluids dripping down his legs and onto the bedsheets below. Jester must be annoyed at how much Jack is dirtying his bed. The first thing he’s gonna do once he gets out of this sorry state is to clean everything he made filthy. Maybe Jester won’t be-
Jack jolts in surprise when one of Jester’s fingers dips back into him, pushing something all the way back against his cervix. Jester only responds by his hand going to the small of Jack’s spine, pushing down until Jack finds the proper position again. The finger pulls itself out of Jack, leaving the foreign object behind; only for it to return with a second small, smooth object, placing it right against where Jack was most sensitive. Then a third, placed just a little past the opening, and finally a fourth, taped to press against Jack’s clit.
Each of the round objects sits inside Jack, save for one of them; their size makes them hardly pleasurable to Jack at all. He can feel them, yes, as well as the thin strings attached to them that lead back to Jester, but that is all they do for him. He whines, shifting his weight from knee to knee, trying his best to beg Jester to do more.
Like a shock of lightning, the smooth, little object that’s placed against his cervix begins to vibrate. Jester’s hand returns to Jack’s spine, once more reminding him to keep his pose. He’s almost immediately thrown out of it when the second vibrator turns on, this one being the one that was placed against his most sensitive spot. This time, without Jester’s urging, Jack returns to his pose.
The third and fourth vibrators turn on, not a single spot of Jack’s cunt left neglected. Like the vibrators were planted everywhere in his body, Jack twitched and whined, thighs rubbing together. Jack is falling apart before Jester, enjoying every second of sexual gratification with hedonistic glee. The complete opposite to Jester, who sits behind him, perched on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, like he’s a king on a throne. The remotes to each of the vibrators sit on the bed between them, as Jester stares with little interest in watching Jack fall apart before him.
“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” Jester says after a full minute; his voice barely even reaching past the fog in Jack’s head. His free hand tracing a single finger up Jack’s thigh, smearing Jack’s slick, just to tease him. “Perhaps a bit too much, really. I have them all set to their lowest setting. If they’re doing that much for you, I expect their highest setting would kill you.” There’s an unnecessary pause, as Jester has already decided. “Let’s find out.”
One by one, Jester increases each vibrator by one level, grinning to himself as Jack’s high-pitched cries of pleasure only get louder with each change. Pushing the vibrators to their third speed, Jester puts his hand on Jack’s back again, keeping it there to force him to stay in position. Jester can’t even tell if Jack has cummed again since the vibrators were turned on, but he was sure that Jack had at least once. Hard to tell when Jack’s entire body was spasming.
“They’re almost at their highest setting, Jack, just hold on a little more. You can do this for me, my good puppy,” he reassured Jack, even if Jack probably didn’t even register his voice as Jack drowned in overwhelming pleasure.
Just to torture Jack, Jester pushes each vibrator to its highest setting one by one, taking plenty of time between each one. He’s actually impressed that Jack is taking it so well, considering how sensitive he is; the vibrators must be agonizing inside him. Though if anyone were to pass by and hear Jack in this state, they’d likely believe that Jester really was torturing him. The gag was a good idea, since Jack would likely have woken the entire circus up without it.
With an especially loud cry, Jack’s legs went limp like a melting glacier, his entire body hitting the bedsheets. A smile, self-congratulatory and all teeth, spreads across Jester’s face, giving Jack only a couple more seconds of torture before turning each vibrator off one by one; removing them all when all are turned off. Jack lay there, chest heaving as he remembered how to breathe again, limp and face down.
“Good boy, you did so well,” Jester held one of Jack’s thighs, massaging it. “That should be enough for you.”
A low groan is whimpered into the bedsheets, the meaning behind it nebulous. Jester raises an eyebrow, pulling himself off the bed to get closer to Jack, flipping the almost corpse-like Jack onto his back.
Jack gazes up at Jester, eyes bleary and tears staining his cheeks, which have turned a deep red. In his mouth is the silicone gag, deep gashes torn through it from Jack’s chewing to the point it hardly could even fulfill its purpose. The sight of another one of Jester’s belongings damaged just elicits a defeated sigh, reaching down and removing the gag from Jack’s mouth; dripping with saliva and completely turned to trash.
“‘M sorry,” Jack's voice comes out a bit slurred from fatigue. “I wasn’t meaning to, please don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad, Jack, I should have known this would happen,” with a quick toss over his shoulder, Jester rid himself of having to deal with the wrecked gag for now. “As I said earlier, I’m not carrying you, but as you seem satisfied now, it is best you return to your own tent. As such, I will go retrieve the Doctor; he can return you to your tent since you likely can’t walk on-”
“No,” Jack interrupted, wriggling his body closer to Jester. “I’m, I’m not, it’s not enough. I need you.”
“Elaborate,” Jester bites his tongue to not scoff at Jack’s refusal.
“I need more, I need you to, to,” the words are hard for Jack to say, but desperation makes them possible. “Please, breed me, fill me with your cum. I don’t want your toys or whatever, I want your, your dick, inside me. Please, Jester, please, please breed me.”
Jester’s teeth clacked together, trying to swallow his growing frustration. Jack probably can’t even stand anymore, and yet he’s still asking for more? How much time is he asking Jester to waste? “Jack, I can’t just breed you. I understand that right now your mind is filled with instincts calling for you to breed, but just think of the consequences that would come if I got you pregnant. We have no place to raise an infant, nor the time, nor the manpower, nor the equipment needed. How would we raise a child here? Do you think any of us would be good parents? Just think of what the others would think, with you having my child; how would they react to such a blatant abuse of power? Even if they’d never say it, they might believe that I took advantage of you while you were in heat, an altered state mind you, to bear me a child simply for pride or ego. Children come with a lot of responsibilities, and while I know you love them, I doubt you alone can raise a child to adulthood.” Perhaps Jester would make for a good parent, if only his ability to scold mattered.
“Having children is something the parents must think through beforehand, Jack,” Jester lowered his voice from a more disciplinary tone, to a softer, comforting one. “It cannot be done just because your instincts call for it. It’d be better for me to use a dildo than my own phallus until we can trick your body into believing you’ve been bred. If that doesn’t work, then it would be best for you to be restrained until the heat passes by itself.
Jester watches as his words register into Jack’s mind, his face looking more disappointed every passing moment. “I don’t,” Jack mumbles, and for a moment Jester believes he’s seen reason. “I don’t care. I want, no, I need you to fuck me till I’m bred. It feels like I’m dying; I just need you so much. I’ll, I’ll figure everything out myself. I’ll leave the circus with my baby if I have to. I’ll make sure you don’t have to worry about me or my baby at all. I just, I just need you so much.”
Tears, not tears from overstimulation but actual tears born from dejection, spill from Jack’s eyes as he strains his eyes just to see Jester’s face through the fog. It’s impossible, of course, but not being able to see Jester’s expression only deepens his misery. Jester must think Jack pathetic, disgusting, whorish even, begging for this, surely.
Instead, Jester only rubs his temples, considering several potential resolutions. He’d much rather just say no and be done with this. However, if he does, then he’d be risking Jack’s heat continuing; and Jester would rather not have Jack be roaming the circus looking for someone else who is more willing to take on a breeding role.
It’d be one thing if Jack went to any of the others, at least the issue would be more contained; but it’d be a whole other issue if it was a customer. Even if the chance of him being bred would be significantly lower, if not entirely impossible, said hypothetical human would almost certainly see Jack’s inhuman nature. If the others didn’t find out about it in time, that human could tell other humans about Jack’s true form, and the consequences have been lived far too many times for Jester to care to repeat. Worse-case scenario, Jack imprints on that human as a mate; but Jester doesn’t even want to think about that option.
The ramifications of Jack being bred by someone in the circus are at least less severe, but should still not be forgotten. None of parenthood strikes Jester as a good nor tempting idea in the slightest; if anything, it just gives him a headache. But… what Jack doesn’t know can’t hurt him. It would take only a brief conversation with the Doctor to solve this baby issue long before it is an issue, then a second one with Pierrot to make sure it’s slipped into Jack’s breakfast. Jester could have all of that arranged before Jack even wakes up, especially considering how long Jack often sleeps. If the Doctor's solution doesn’t work the first time, then they have an entire gestation period to try again. A miscarriage, that’s all Jack will have to know.
“Very well,” there has been no other time that Jester has appreciated how near blind Jack is than right now; the expression on Jester’s face is one Jack is better off not seeing.
The expression on Jack’s face, however, is one of absolute jubilation; like a long-held dream came true. “Really? You’ll, you’ll do it?” Jack twisted his body to get closer to Jester, though only managed to grind his torso into the bedsheets, tangling himself within them. A little too close to the edge, too, Jester notes; he’d rather not see Jack injure himself. Just a quick glimpse at how sluggish Jack was: he was too exhausted to stand, and with his arms bound, he was rather useless physically speaking.
“If it’s what it’ll take to help you, then yes. Just give me one moment,” with a step back, Jester keeps a wary eye on Jack. He was right not to trust Jack, as the moment Jester had moved just two steps back, Jack slid his body closer, trying to chase after Jester. The second Jack’s shoulders pass the edge of the bed, his body quickly follows suit and slips over the side. Jester barely catches him before Jack’s head would have struck the floor, only struggling more to get the larger man back onto the bed. “Stay,” he chides Jack, who mumbles a shameful apology for the accident he almost caused.
Jack can only listen as Jester peels off his layers of his costume, the blur he knows to be Jester losing more and more of the alluring purple that Jack craved. It was hardly a disappointment, however, knowing that it was only a step that Jester deemed necessary to take before the two of them could finally lay together. If only Jester had allowed him to see his body up close, to carve the body of his idol into the marble in his mind. But Jack knew better; such a fantasy was far beneath Jester to even consider.
When the soft footsteps, now lacking their signature jingle, crept closer, it took every ounce of willpower for Jack to not end up falling over the edge again. Even without most of the familiar purple, Jack could still see the wine-colored hair that draped down over his naked form. It was Jester; Jack knew it even if he couldn’t discern the man from the fog. The way the bed dipped underneath Jester as he sat so close to Jack, the graceful hands, so slender yet demanding of power, as they lay on Jack’s hips, the faint aroma that brought thoughts of a winter’s night; all of it was so discerningly Jester.
“Up,” the command is given as Jester pulls on Jack’s hips and legs, ordering Jack back onto his knees. His body hardly obeys him anymore; his mind drowning in the afterglow of overstimulating orgasms and still unfulfilled instincts. Jester ends up having to do most of the work, manipulating Jack’s body like a ceramic doll.
Jack’s breath burns against the bedsheets; the small space between his beet-red face and the black sheets feels unbearably hot against his face. His heart leaps, then falls, when Jester’s hand passes by him to retrieve the leash, wrapping it around his hand to make sure it stays taut; to remind Jack of the collar around his neck. Not that he could, not that he wanted to.
He almost jumps out of his skin when he feels Jester’s free hand grip the meat of his thigh, the warmth of his slender fingers almost a balm on Jack’s trembling thigh. “Calm,” Jester scolds, with little teeth in his tone, “This will be over soon.” Fuck, Jack really, really hoped that wasn’t the case, that out of all the times Jester has been right, this would be the first time he would be wrong.
“Jest-” Jack’s voice comes out intermingled with a moan. His pleading is cut short when Jester’s hand seizes a handful of his hair, pushing it sharply against the bedsheets.
“Be quiet for just a moment, Jack.”
Jack nodded slightly; at this point, he would tear out his own tongue if Jester told him to.
“Good boy,” the bed shifted under Jester’s weight, every tiny movement like a slow torture to Jack’s patience. Rise, drop, as Jester pulled closer. Something warm pushed against Jack’s slit, and before Jack could even realize that it was Jester’s cock, it was pushed into him till it slammed against his cervix. The sound that came out of Jack barely even sounded like they could have come from him. Too high-pitched, too whorish, though the neediness was about right.
Jester gave Jack no time to adjust to his size, looming over him as his hips slammed against Jack’s. What was the point in giving Jack a moment to breathe? Jester was kind enough already to take so long preparing him. The sound of skin on skin was inaudible underneath Jack’s indulgent whimpering, muffled only slightly as his face was pressed into the sheets. Every thrust makes his toes curl and stretch; his body trying to decide if it wants to pull away from the overstimulating force, or to push back into it.
Drool soaked into dark bedsheets, smearing across Jack’s face with every sharp push into his dripping cunt. His arousal makes Jester’s brutal pace more bearable, his fluids leaking down his legs. It felt amazing. Jack had fantasized about this very thing over and over almost the day after he became a part of the circus’ family, even though he scolded himself repeatedly every time. So many nights spent lying awake, fucking himself against his own hands, thinking about Jester. Dreaming about Jester. None of his fantasies could amount to this reality; they never could.
It was gratifying to see Jack come undone beneath Jester. Watching his back muscles tense up and tremble as if they were about to snap apart, yet still Jack’s hips pushed back to meet Jester with every thrust. The combination of Jester’s hips meeting Jack’s, the quiet slick sound of Jack’s cunt welcoming his cock, the bed’s creaking complaints, and Jack’s near-euphoric sobs all made for a beautiful melody that Jester wouldn’t mind hearing again. With how loud Jack was, though, Jester knew he was possibly waking the others from their own sleep. He’ll have to apologize in the morning.
A possessive, near-feral, self-satisfied sneer spread wide across Jester’s face, his strained breathing as hot as smoldering coal as it pushed past his clenched teeth. His domineering hunger, wanting nothing more than to make this night impossible for Jack to forget. That even if Jack lost all of his other memories, let only this one stay. How badly he wanted to push Jack to his limits, make him plead for mercy, just so Jester could ignore him, break him. Oh, how beautiful Jack would look, covered in bruises, cum, blood, and sweat; a distant, exhausted gaze in his eyes. Maybe Jester should take out some of his favorite toys: his crop, his spreader bars, his sensory deprivation hood, his ropes, his silicone cocks, his whip-
But no, Jester had to hold himself back, at least for now. Maybe when Jack is a bit more level-headed, the two of them can see how far he’s willing to go; but right now, Jack would agree to anything if it meant release from his heat. Jester had an image to uphold, at least for his family.
That doesn’t mean he will not indulge himself at least a little, however. Jester's free hand slides up Jack’s sweat-slicked spine, his other hand making sure the leash stays taut, feeling Jack’s muscles twitch against his fingertips. And with a sadistic smile, he dragged his claws down Jack’s back, just hard enough to draw a few pearls of blood along the angry lines he left; taking great care to avoid where a nick too deep could cause serious harm, of course. It was worth it, hearing Jack’s carnal, tortured whine fill the tent.
“Jester~” Jack sobbed Jester’s name like a prayer, his head lifting to turn and look at his savior.
Only for Jester to shove his face right back into the sheets. “Shhh,” Jester shushed, his thumb rubbing circles into Jack’s scalp. “I know, I know.”
That gentle reassurance is almost made a mockery of when Jester pulls back the leash. Hard. Lifting Jack’s torso off the bed, all of his body weight being held up only where his hips met Jester’s and the leash. His oxygen restricted until he could only get tiny gasps past the pressure, his moaning a lot quieter but far more hedonistic. His hands clench and unclench over and over, the delicate muscles in them threatening to snap as they strain.
Jester’s eyes track over Jack’s back, scanning for any sign of agony or distress, just to make sure this position isn’t agonizing for Jack. His concern is quickly quelled as Jack’s hips grind back, his body begging for Jester to keep fucking into him. With how indulgent this is for Jester, he could almost mistake that all this is for him, instead of just a means to an end; to satisfy Jack’s heat.
The new position makes every thrust hit harder and deeper, likely bruising the poor muscle. A squeak falls from Jack’s lips with every thrust, his body jerking like he’s being shocked with a low-strength taser repeatedly. Jester could feel his cock grinding against where Jack’s own hidden cock was placed snugly between his cunt and pelvic bone.
Just the sight of Jack’s body struggling with the limited oxygen and brutal pounding was a sight to behold. It was so tempting to Jester to consider fucking Jack even when he wasn’t needing it during a heat, seeing how well Jack’s body responded to Jester. His sadistic urges rearing up again, telling him that maybe he should just forget morals for right now; see how cruel he can be before Jack begs him to stop. The idea is a siren song in his skull, tempting him toward destruction.
But this position can’t be held for too long, and Jester knows when he needs to give Jack oxygen again when his squeaking starts to go quiet, body beginning to slump. Shame, Jester enjoyed seeing Jack’s body overexert itself into exhaustion while still stupidly seeking more pleasure. He pulled harder on the leash, pulling Jack’s torso back until Jack was sitting on Jester’s lap. The pressure on Jack’s neck fading away, his gasping for air turning back into whining for more, Jester’s name whispered with every exhale. Jack’s head presses against Jester’s shoulder, his spine having to curl outwards a lot to make it possible with his taller stature compared to Jester’s. His slick walls clenching tightly around Jester’s cock as he resumes slamming his hips up into Jack. There’s not a doubt in Jester’s mind that Jack is about to orgasm again, with how much his cunt was twitching and squeezing, especially how much he was grinding his cock against Jack’s retracted, internal cock.
“Cum for me, Jack,” Jester’s voice stays steady, like he can’t feel his own climax getting close. “Be a good boy and cum on my cock.”
A low whine leaves Jack, his eyes shutting tight while his mouth hangs open. “I’ll be, I’ll be your good, good boy,” the words sounding more like sobbing than speaking. But true to his word, it only takes a few more thrusts before his climax courses through his body, muscles tightening, stiff yet shaking. A loud,high-pitched mewl comes out of him, only dying out as his orgasm does; with Jester’s head right next to Jack’s, he almost wishes he was wearing earplugs.
Jester’s breath strains as it comes out, his own end getting close. It just takes a few more thrusts for him before he lets himself go, loosening the grip he held on his own mental leash. Something deep, carnal, feral, inside of Jester aches, his mouth feeling empty, craving flesh between his teeth. Despite his disciplined control over himself, instincts won over and-
-His teeth sink into Jack’s nape, marking him. Claiming him.
It’s like Jack climaxes a second time as Jester’s cum pours into him, his walls determined to milk Jester’s cock for the very last drop of his cum. Maybe he actually did orgasm again, at least just a little. Whether it was because of the hot cum inside him or the ravenous teeth dug into his flesh, Jack couldn’t even tell which caused it.
Riding out the last of his orgasm and taking a second to inhale deeply, Jester released Jack from his grip, firmly pushing him forward and off of Jester’s lap. With little strength left in his body, he falls like a corpse onto Jester’s bed. The stretch of Jack’s cunt around Jester being lost in a moment, leaving Jack feeling like he just lost a puzzle piece he’d only just found. Feeling Jester’s cum dripping out of his slit only made his saddened state worse.
Behind him, Jester took deep breaths, stabilizing himself. His tongue swiping across his beastly teeth, tasting Jack’s blood in his mouth. Jester was already scolding himself for actually allowing himself to leave a mark on Jack, well aware that for their kind, a bite like that given like this wasn’t just a bite. It was claiming territory. It meant a lot more than Jester wanted Jack to interpret; he didn’t want to claim Jack like a mate; he didn’t want Jack to think he was Jester’s mate.
It must have been the situation and how permeated the air was with Jack’s pheromones that drove Jester to do something so stupidly animalistic, so beneath him. At least that’s what he tells himself. Right now, Jester doesn’t want to clarify their relationship; he’d rather leave that for the morning. When they were both rested and of a clearer mind.
“As I said earlier, I am not carrying you back to your tent. Just stay here, I’ll go fetch the Doctor,” Jester repeated his words from earlier, swinging his legs over the side of his bed. He was not in the mood for coddling Jack right now; the amount of hours he’s been awake beginning to weigh down his shoulders. All the aftercare can be left to Doctor; it would hardly be a surprise to him at this point considering how many times Jester has asked that of him with his past trysts.
“Jester…” Jack’s voice, almost reduced to hoarse whispers, halted Jester from cleaning himself up and getting dressed again.
In response, Jester turned his head, his gaze landing on Jack’s face. The perpetual unfocused look in Jack’s eyes somehow feels even more distant. “Jack,” he tries to hide the subtle exasperation in his tone, thankfully Jack seems to be too out of it to notice it anyway.
“I, I, please,” there’s a struggle to get the words out for Jack, like his lungs themselves are tired. “Again, please.”
“Again?” Jester repeated the word back to Jack, his exasperation now not even trying to hide anymore. “Jack, I don’t think your body could handle another round. Surely you’re too exhausted for your heat to still-”
“Just!” Jack’s voice peaked in desperation, begging, pleading. “Just one more. Then I’ll, then that’ll be enough for me. One more, just one more.”
There was no exaggerating when Jester pointed out how fatigued Jack’s body looked; even with his tall frame, he looked small and fragile. Jester had done this plenty of times before, that even though he’d gone easy on Jack, he could recognize that Jack couldn’t take much more. “Jack, it is late. We both need to rest.”
“Not yet! Just a little longer, please,” Jack pleaded. As if he was fueled by his need, Jack’s body shifted and writhed towards Jester, arms pulling at their restraints. “Fill me with your cum again! I want to, I need to be bred. Please, Jester, breed me.”
There was no way that Jack was unaware of Jester’s permanently packed daily schedule. His mornings started far earlier than Jack’s, who spent most of his time sleeping out of necessity. It was a daily ritual for Jester to wake before the others did, forcing himself out of his own self-made trap of comfort that was his bed. It was important that he checked on the Fools first, making sure none of them, well, got any ideas. Literally. Only when he could assure himself that his puppets still hung from the strings he had left them on could he allow himself to go about his day.
But then again, he already knew that tomorrow’s duties were more lax than usual. All the proper paperwork Ticket Taker and he had already completed, weekly ledgers checked thrice, and everyone’s personal funds were still not due for another nine days. It was Pierrot’s turn to deal with some of the pink tent’s mess tomorrow as well, while Harlequin was to lure in more customers. Meaning that as long as they could get through breakfast without trying to maim one another, they’d spend most of the day separated. Doctor… Well, Jester usually left him to his own devices. Doctor knew when it was time to work and when they could afford to let Doctor return to his unending studies. Beyond the daily tasks of ensuring everything in the circus was running smoothly, Jester had planned to spend up till lunch babysitting assisting Harlequin with the customers. After lunch, he intended to spend the rest of his day until the circus opened practicing his own act. He couldn’t let any of his Fools mess up on stage after all.
Perhaps just this once Jester could sleep in for an extra hour or two. Ticket Taker always woke quickly after Jester would, and he was more than capable of checking up on the Fools, so the most important morning chore would be taken care of. He doubted that any of the others would really mind much if he took just a single morning to just be a bit more lazy when life allowed him too. Jester was never much of a morning person anyway; many of his kind were nocturnal, and if he could get away with it, he would be too. Just a little longer awake at night, and just sleep in a little more in the morning.
“One more round,” only half committing to his word, Jester rubbed his temples in defeat. He knew he shouldn’t be indulging Jack this much; he wasn’t even sure why he was besides just to end his heat.
Hearing Jester relent to his request, Jack’s face lit up brighter than the sun. “Thank you! I swear, this’ll be the last one!” he promised, both of them hoping that he was right, that Jack will only need one more round to be satisfied. “But um,” Jack's shoulders shifted left and right, wriggling and pulling in his arm restraints, “could you let me out? If, if that isn’t too much of an issue, of course!”
There’s a beat of quiet, the bed underneath Jester shifting as Jack lay still. Enough time for Jack to spiral into anxiety; he’d promised Jester he could take whatever Jester gave him, and now Jack was asking for more comfort and ease. What if he just disappointed Jester, made himself look like a fool who doesn’t know their own limits?
The spiral comes to a halt as the restraints are tugged loose, leather sliding across leather and metal clicking. It takes a moment before Jack’s arms are freed, the restraints being dropped to the side, forgotten. Jester’s knees straddled Jack’s hips, keeping his weight off Jack, looming over him. The warm, familiar hands that Jack knew and craved caressed down his arms, massaging blood flow back into his arms where the restraints were tightest. It took everything within Jack not to moan.
That sensation only lasted for a far too short amount of time before Jester’s hands left Jack’s skin. Though any amount of time would have been too brief for Jack. The bed shifts again, Jester moving back away from Jack and, worse yet, getting off the bed. Jack practically wilted, his freed arms pushing his torso off the bed, trying to see where Jester could have gone despite the blur. Just a hint of Jester’s amethyst hair, a tiny splash of color in the indeterminable dark; anything so he could reassure himself Jester hadn’t left.
A gentle caress down Jack’s jawline, from ear to chin, turning Jack’s attention to the mass right in front of him. “But Jack,” Jester’s voice is low, a seductive purr that makes Jack’s heart flutter. His thumb brushed against Jack’s bottom lip, the sharp claw scraping along the thin skin like a warning. His touch falls lower, the claws trailing down Jack’s neck, softer than new snow.
In a greedy heartbeat, the leash to Jack’s collar is grabbed and pulls a gasp out of Jack, eyes wide. Jester leans down over him, placing his mouth so tantalizingly close to Jack’s ear. “You will have to earn it.”
Jester sits right in front of Jack, so close that Jack can smell the Jester’s cock, the pheromones that smelled like blueberries crushed beneath a leather boot. Like the mutt he was, a Pavlov dog salivating to the ringing of a bell, Jack’s mouth filled with saliva and a near overwhelming hunger for Jester’s cum drank down his throat. The leash was pulled, leading Jack’s head down until his face could feel the heat from Jester’s cock.
He doesn’t need an order to open his mouth for Jester’s cock, but he’s stopped by another sharp, quick tug on the leash. Jack almost whines at the unspoken no, just so overbearingly needy for his mouth to be stuffed full. “You will use your tongue only,” Jester instructed. “Do not put my cock in your mouth nor use your hands. Entertain me with only your tongue.”
As much as Jack wanted Jester to just shove his cock down Jack’s throat, use him like a gagging toy, Jack nodded obediently. “Okay,” he barely even stuttered out the word, just enough time for him to find Jester’s cock before his tongue was curling around Jester’s cock.
If it were possible to climax from just taste alone, Jack actually might have. The mixed fluids of both Jester’s and Jack’s cum are an enticing union of fluids, evidence of their mating. Filthy and luscious, salt and musk, the most defiled ambrosia. Jack wants nothing more than to fill his mouth with the flavor, actually considering disobeying Jester just so he could, but he could never disappoint his idol.
Jack dragged his tongue up and down Jester’s cock, no skill or tactic, just desperation to drink up and taste all of Jester. He didn’t even know if he was doing it right at all; he was at least doing good enough that he could feel Jester’s cock grow stiffer under his tongue. Knowing that he was the reason was a source of pride for Jack, that at least he could please Jester.
“Look at you,” amused, Jester watches Jack with vain delight. “So needy for my cock. I wonder, do you enjoy it because it’s mine or because you crave the taste?” The pink that covered Jack’s face where the smeared face paint was the faintest, only grew deeper. Both, Jester decides, and rightfully so. “I thought you to be a bit too pure for me, but perhaps you are filthier than I thought. What a good boy I have.”
There is no order, no warning given before Jester grabs Jack by the scruff, tossing him back onto the bed. A small yelp pounces out of Jack as he hits the bed, already missing the taste of Jester on his tongue. Then a second one, as Jester pulls him closer by the ankles.
“Ah! Wait, wait!” Jack sputters out, and Jester’s hands remove themselves the moment the first ‘wait’ leaves Jack. His bound arms strained against the leather, drawing Jester’s attention to them. “Can I, could you let me out of these?”
As indulgent to Jack as ever, Jester reaches up, undoing the buckles one by one. The arm restraints hit the ground with a quiet, fleshy noise and metal clinking against metal, forgotten for the night. With more freedom of movement, Jack shifts onto his back; eyes pleading for Jester to continue, though he aims them too high. In the time it took for him to do so, however, the blur that Jack recognized as Jester was gone.
The heat that radiated from Jester’s body returns before Jack can even grow anxious, the dark shadow sliding between his legs. His legs wrapped around Jester’s waist, an action that made him grimace, finding it far too intimate. Like a butterfly made of bone, Jester’s claws scrape against Jack’s skin, from his ribs and over the flat plane of his stomach, coming to rest on Jack’s hipbones. Thumbs pressing down against where the bone was closest to the skin, just enough to keep Jack grounded.
Saliva collected in Jack’s mouth, nearly drooling like the mutt that he was, salivating to Jester’s bells. His skin hungered for Jester’s touch, every part of Jack craving every part of Jester. How his muscles desired only to be torn in twain, organs to be pulled out and inspected, bones aching to be snapped and the marrow drunk; whatever Jester wanted, he could take. The very scent of Jester, his pheromones that he always controlled, practiced, like his own gait, tempting Jack himself to take a bite. His teeth ached something feral.
It takes a single whine coming deep from Jack’s throat for Jester to continue. His body pulls closer, one hand curling around Jack’s mouth, a more temporary gag, albeit risky if Jack bites.
Then, in one motion, Jester’s cock fills Jack up, slamming into his cervix. Even with Jester’s hand over his mouth, the sound that came out of Jack was loud and high-pitched. Hearts filled his vision, blurring what was already indecipherable, his cunt trembling as if he’d climaxed from the sensation alone.
If there was any mercy in Jester earlier, all of it was lost. Every thrust is brutal, fast, and just about knocks the very air out of Jack’s lungs. Jester’s grip leaves bruises on Jack’s hips, claws digging into Jack’s flesh and drawing blood. The skin on Jack’s back rubbed raw as Jester pulled his body back to meet every thrust. Yet the sounds that came from Jack were only ones of outright elation, whatever pain he should be feeling mistaken as pleasure.
Jester’s name became a mantra in Jack’s mouth, tasting like the finest wine, the sounds he was making filling the whole tent. Jester could only hope that the others wouldn’t be woken by Jack’s shameless cries, if they hadn’t been already, that is. A muzzle, Jester considered the thought, to keep his jaw shut; perhaps with black leather and orchid accents to match Jack’s hair- No, this was not becoming a regular thing, he scolded himself.
The leash was snatched up into Jester’s grip, wrapping it around his hand till the rope was reduced to only a foot in length. “Can’t you be quiet?” the leash jerked, tightening the collar around Jack’s neck.
Jack tried to apologize, or at least bite his tongue, but he couldn’t even remember what language he spoke in the first place right now. His thoughts were only consumed by Jester: his warmth, his touch, his cock, his control, his voice, his everything. His legs tightened around Jester’s waist, pulling him in, making Jester’s grimace only deepen.
The leash fell slack for only a second before it was wrapped around the back of Jack’s right knee, then pulled tightly. The leather chafed against his skin and the collar only tightened further, as Jester pulled the leash back until Jack’s knee was near his head. It only gave Jack a moment of relief as Jester’s hips slowed to force Jack’s body into the new pose before Jester resumed fucking Jack like he was trying to break his hipbones. With the leg being out of the way, Jester’s thrusts only hit deeper into Jack, his bruised cervix no doubt was going to ache something cruel in the morning.
Jester leaned in closer, one hand keeping the leash tight to force Jack to keep the pose while the other dug its nails into the bedsheet by Jack’s head. Locks of silken wine fell down like a curtain around Jack’s head; the small world beyond the two of them he’s already forgotten disappearing completely. His breath was hot on Jack’s neck; the pace he’d set was difficult for him to maintain for long periods of time, but he just wanted this to be quick so he could sleep.
The proximity of their bodies gave Jack the opportunity to reach up and wrap his arms around Jester’s neck, pulling him down. Their bodies pressed against one another, hot and sticky from sweat, Jack having to curl over to bury his face in Jester’s neck, muffling his moans into Jester’s collarbone. His mind swam with Jester’s scent, every minute note of it being memorized and carved into the marble of his memory.
The things feral inside Jack bite at the bars of their cages; his teeth ache with their need. Jack isn’t even aware he’s doing it as his jaw opens wide, tongue wanting to taste more of Jester, to savor him. His teeth ache, and it feels right.
Jester’s hand slaps down on Jack’s mouth so hard that the bed bounces with Jack’s head, dazed eyes snapping open wide. The grip was so tight that it could crack the thick bone if Jester truly wanted to. He doesn’t, however, and the grip quickly loosens, though remains covering the offending mouth. Just as Jester didn’t mean to, Jack almost bit into Jester’s flesh, marking him with his teeth. For Jester, his mark bitten into Jack was a mistake, but to Jack, that same mark was one he’d wear with pride. The rejection of Jack’s own mark made Jester’s message loud and clear.
You are mine, but I am not yours.
The disappointment was clear on Jack’s face, though it was quickly forgotten as Jester’s stilled hips returned to their brutal pace. This time, neither of them made the mistake of getting too close to one another, silently agreeing not to speak of Jack’s absent-minded slip.
“This really is-” pleasure strains in Jester’s voice. “The end of me helping you-” a low grunt and teeth grit. “With your heat. Got it?”
“Can I,” greed instead hides behind the notes of Jack’s voice, hungry for just a little more. “Can you kiss me? Just once? Please?”
Out of all of Jack’s demands tonight, that is the one that Jester hates the most. Jester is made of stone and metal and leather and chains. Yet he is being asked to soften his very nature, just a little, just for a moment, into something he’s not. The very idea of it is laughable.
Despite that, Jester draws close once again, making another stupid mistake as he presses his lips to Jack’s. If flesh could melt from the bone, Jack would have made an awful mess for Jester to clean. No moment in Jack’s life felt as good as Jester’s indulgence; he doubted that he’d ever feel as good as this again. Even if he could still taste their fluids mixed on his tongue, the kiss was sweet as sugar.
It ends too soon for Jack. Jester pulls away and with a last few rolls of his hips, he reaches his own orgasm once more. Cum dribbles out around Jester’s cock, only worsening the mess on his bedsheets. One more thrust to milk out his orgasm is enough to bring Jack to the brink as well. He lets out one last wanton cry before the night air finally returns to silence without the sounds of sin.
Never being one for pillow talk, Jester is on his feet before Jack brings himself back to reality, pulling the spoiled blankets off the bed and leaving only the one that Jack lay on. “And I repeat, as I said earlier,” Jester’s hands take only two seconds to remove the collar from Jack’s neck, and without it, Jack feels suddenly a lot more naked. “I will ask that Doctor does your aftercare and return you to-”
Jack’s arms lurch for Jester with a sudden, hidden burst of energy, pulling Jester close. His torso is half off the bed, his weight and grip impeding Jester from backing away. A low, rather childish whine comes out of Jack, his forehead rubbing against Jester’s hip as he shakes his head. “Jack, you must not expect to stay here tonight. It is already quite late, and my mornings start much earlier than yours, and surely your own bed would be more comfortable.” That second part was a lie. Jack’s bed was comfort within chaos, colorful bedding arranged like a nest, while Jester’s bed found comfort between thick, fluffy bedsheets and more pillows than Jester would ever need, excess to hide under.
Despite Jack knowing better, he only shakes his head again, more insistent this time. A battle that Jester wouldn’t win without force. And he was far too tired to bother with that right now.
A long, drawn - out sigh signaled Jester’s resignation, shoulders slumping as he massaged his temples. “Fine, but only for tonight. Never again, got it?” This time Jack nodded. “But I will not sleep in a bed full of cum and sweat. Let go, so I can at least clean us both.”
There’s a bit of a pause as Jack hesitates, not wanting to let go, but he relents. It only takes a moment for Jester to retrieve a few towels, one meant for the very purpose of cleaning filth like theirs. His own body is easier to clean, with less of their body fluids getting on him, cleaning himself before walking back to Jack with more clean towels. It’s awkward for them both as Jester wipes Jack clean, shame seeming to finally hit Jack as he fidgets under Jester’s hands. Wincing when Jester tries to clean away as much of the cum from Jack’s slit, the smooth towel felt rough to Jack’s sensitive sex.
Jack was still blushing, but the drunken daze and full-body flushing with his heat had mostly subsided. At least it seemed like his condition had finally passed. The dirty towels are dumped into Jester’s laundry, along with the rest of the soiled blankets, replacing some of the ones lost with new ones. To cover the stench of sex and Jack’s still lingering pheromones, Jester lights a single stick of lavender incense before finally returning to his own bed.
Jester’s bed welcomes his spent body, Jack welcoming him under the blankets far more. His arms and legs wrapped around Jester, curling into his back, face pressing against Jester’s spine. Jester could feel Jack smiling, knowing that he’s just beaming with satisfaction. It feels too awkward for Jester to tell Jack good night, so he stills his tongue instead.
“Thank you, Jester,” Jack’s voice was hardly a whisper. “I really… thank you.”
Jester hesitates, his mind more focused on how he’d word his request to the Doctor and to Pierrot in the morning.
“Go to sleep, Jack.”
