The door doesn’t look any different from any other when Marco’s knuckles rap upon it. In the sparse back alley, it fits in, almost too bare to warrant any notice at all if not for the insignia upon the door. Carved into the dark maroon paint, line upon line form the semblance of a bowtie. Marco traces his fingers in the grooves as he waits in the shadows of the setting sun.
He has done everything Jean said. From wearing something comfortable with loose slacks and a cotton shirt, to the peculiarly specific knock on the door, and the good long shower to smell fresh and clean before he appears in the spot he stands now. Jean didn’t say anything about the trembling feeling that would overtake him.
The door opens and sends a jolt through Marco. He nearly screams in his surprise but he refuses to let the nerves rise up above his chest. His shoulders feel rigid when the man answering the door peeks around the edge and looks over him curiously with bright green eyes.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" The man tilts his head and smiles. His lips, Marco notices instantly, are painted with a rather deep shade of red, yet somehow it doesn't look as strange with light powder across his face and the rosy tint on his cheeks.
Marco gulps and fiddles with the hem of his shirt. He has architectural drafts waiting on his desk at home to finish, but here he is waiting to see exactly what Jean's work entails. "Jean invited me" is all he manages to stutter before the man opens the door wide and drags him in with a devious chuckle.
"Why didn't you tell me that hornbag sent you?" he laughs and closes the door behind them both. He waddles up with a sudden spring in his step and it is then that Marco notices the brightly striped loose pants barely holding onto his slender hips and the tight cropped shirt beneath brighter suspenders. "I would've offered you a private show, but he's said he's got plans for you."
With a wink, he launches himself onto the reception desk in the tiny entrance room. He spreads his legs wide and with a swift motion plants a bowler hat on his head with relish, licking his lips and patting his thighs. "So what tickles your fancy?"
Before Marco can answer, he tumbles backwards off the desk and ducks down behind it, He suddenly appears in view again with a handful of colourful bands wrapped around his wrists. He mimes across them, plucking them each with a different sound. "I've got all sorts of pretty things. How would you like to spend the evening, peach cake?"
Unable to stop himself smiling at the grin and bright eyes fixated his way, Marco wanders over and peers over them. His eyes dart from the colours of the bands to the dash of colours on the man’s face. "What are all of these?"
The man vaults himself up to the desk again and lies on his stomach, edging himself closer like a worm. Not an inch of shame probably left in his body. "Whatever you like, you wear it proud here. There's no going in there without your team colours," he jests and leans to squeeze Marco's nose affectionately.
Try as he might, Marco cannot read them. Each different colour is bright but plain, almost neon against the man's skin. "What are they?" Something in the air deepened his breathing. Down the hall he could hear the sound of music he has only ever heard in passing, music so upbeat and happy and carefree that Marco feels he's left his nerves at the door.
"Well..." the man begins, turning each band with the sound effects of gears turning, "You've got your vanilla bum, your dom, your sub, your sadist, your masochist," he pauses and looks up at Marco with a cheeky grin, "I bet you like a little spank on the ass." He points through the others with a sing-song tone to his voice as if he had said the most natural thing in the world. "Your voyeur, your exhibitionist, your adrenaline junkie, your group sex groupie, but those are the main ones. Anything more specific would be between you and your consort."
Marco gulps and wonders if the man can see the growing bulge in his pants. All of them sound nice as far as he's concerned. He merely wants to find out what Jean has in mind. Marco never thought he would be waiting here like this. He thought -- or more correctly knew -- he would be fucked tonight, but how was something he had barely begun to imagine. All the ideas rush through his head. "That's-- that's a lot of choice."
The man jumps off the table, picks the hat off his head, and throws it with a spin into the air. "We've got a lot of clowns and a lot of clients, darling." In a quick motion he ducks, letting the hat fall back onto his head as he bows. Marco chuckles at the oddly strange way the man waddles to him. His hands run up Marco's shirt and he produces a long scarf out of thin air then wraps it around Marco's neck and pulls him forward, "Come and see."
When Jean had mentioned over coffee that Marco should see what he does, he didn't expect the sight before his eyes. Where he expects the dark seductive luxury of a gentleman's brothel, he finds walls lined with colourful silks, curtains draped down from the centre of the ceiling like a big top, and a wondrous array of bright colours and sounds.
The music pumps louder here than in reception, but now he stands in the expanse of this huge expanse of a room, he cannot mistake the sounds of moans and laughter in the air. Somewhere someone was giggling, over in the corner someone was screaming obscenities, and someone not far ahead could not stop moaning. They cannot have been more than a few metres away.
It is a feast for his ears and his eyes. Before him, circular curtains drape over large round beds where collections of men lounge, and eat, and work their tongues and their fingers over each other with a shamelessness Marco had never seen before. Every second man is dressed in costume. Each face is painted differently to fit the image they create for themselves with bright, elaborate, poorly fitting clown clothes.
All he can do is stand agape as he watches one man on a daybed roll his hips rhythmically to the music on the cock of another man. Dressed in baggy pants trapped around his knees, his suspenders fall loose before him where the clown promptly encourages the man below him to use them as reins. Both grinning and chuckling as they rub against each other, Marco can’t be sure who is riding who. He doubts he's ever seen anything so ridiculously delicious in his life.
"I bet he takes you like a champ," the man by his side says out of nowhere with a sly tint to his voice. Marco catches his eyes running down his own body without a hint of shame. "Or do you ride him? I bet it's both."
The way the man's gaze lingers over every inch of him makes Marco's skin prickle with excitement. "S-sorry?" Marco blinks and shoves his hands into his pockets. The man's mouth widens, bright teeth showing between the bright red. Marco isn't sure why he asked for clarification. He clearly heard the man making a casual remark about him topping his boyfriend. He can already feel the blood rushing to his crotch at the thought. He needs to be patient though. Jean has plans in mind.
"You just have a wonderful fucking time," the man changes the subject and mimes thrusts crudely in the direction of the crowd. Something about his manner has set Marco at ease. No doubt it is part of his job, especially for complete strangers to the brothel like Marco himself. He leaves Marco's side with another wink and a chuckle, "If you ever need another set of lips around your cock..."
Marco shivers as the man leaves, imagining how much he could have messed up his makeup if given the chance. No doubt that’s exactly what he will be able to do soon enough, if that is indeed part of Jean’s plans. Thankfully for him, Marco does not need to wait long.
"Marco!" Jean's familiar voice calls from somewhere within the crowd. For all the searching through the crowd, Marco cannot find him until a man in full clown costume and white face paint waves to grab his attention. "Sorry, I took so long."
Marco's eyes dart from the clown fucking himself on another man to Jean and wonders exactly what Jean was capable of in a place like this. His boyfriend has certainly never been shy about saying what he likes and certainly never conceals the fact that not only does he like to sleep with other men, but he does that for a living. Now Marco finds himself even more turned on by the thought, only encouraged by the sound of one very happy man coming loudly nearby.
"Thoughts?" Jean asks, presenting his silver and blue Pierrot-inspired costume. It sparkles under the dim spotlights and jingles with every wiggle of his hips. Triangular pieces of fabric form the collar and the frills and the detailing of large silver flowers all over his body. Shades of red and black contoured around his eyelids, enhancing the smallest details in his eyes and cheekbones with even more outlandish colours. His lips are delicately painted, exaggerating his natural pout with bright red drawn around its edges. To top it all off, upon his head, Jean wears a tall white rounded hat to complete the outfit.
By now, Marco has forgotten what it means to feel self-conscious or critical. Instead the image of Jean's ass bouncing on his thighs, while the bells of his outfit jingle until his hat falls off, fills his mind instead. Something about Jean all dressed up for him, working in a place like this, and the sheer scent of men in this room has Marco on the edge of losing his mind.
"I don't know if I have any anymore," he finally answers after letting the image of Jean's bouncing ass settle in his mind. "You told me what you do, and you enjoy your job, but I never imagined this." Marco gestures to Jean's costume, letting his eyes linger at Jean's crotch, wondering what he must be wearing beneath it if he was meant to fuck people in those pants.
Jean seems to pay no mind to Marco's wandering gaze. "It's all about your enjoying yourself," he begins with a smile. "Forgetting and losing ourselves." Jean leans forward to plant a soft kiss on Marco's lips, leaving Marco wonder how much of that makeup might be on his face now, how red his lips might be too.
Marco laughs nervously with a sense of curiosity at whatever Jean has planned. His eyebrows raise in wonder as Jean takes his hand and drags him to a small room by the side wall. A mirrored wooden door gives way to Jean's hand before Marco finds himself dragged into the room.
"Where are we?" Marco blurts and feels his breathing and heart-rate quicken when he sees how intimate the room is. A long bench-like seat curves around the room, running across every wall, like the room is meant for a performance. By the wall there stands a glass cabinet, selections of sex toys lining its shelves inside. Each one is bigger and more exaggerated than the last.
"Relax, relax," Jean chuckles and presses Marco against the door. His eyes seem to burn in among all that makeup. Marco resists the urge to lick it off his face and expects Jean is trying to do the same. Before Marco can protest, Jean flips him over and presses Marco into the the one-way mirrored glass of the door. Marco’s breath catches in his lungs when he discovers Jean really isn’t wearing anything under those pants when he presses his erection again Marco’s ass.
Jean’s breath works its way across Marco’s neck when he speaks and Marco all but bucks against the hardness pressing him against the door. “The face paint lets us forget who we are.” Jean’s finger points and taps at the glass. Outside, a face-painted firebreather stands with a small audience, the muscles of his chest glistening in the dim light as if slicked with oil. He takes a quick sip from a bottle nearby before roaring a fire upwards when the torch in his hand nears his lips. Marco finds himself wondering how hot it would be like to be underneath him.
“We can be anyone,” Jean remarks into his ears, startling Marco into the hand now at his crotch. Jean’s fingers undo the zip of Marco’s slacks in time with his words. “Who would know it was me under here?” Marco nudges forward to rub himself against Jean’s hand as it undoes his slacks and his other tugs down the waistband.
Marco bites his lip and leans against Jean, his breath deepening and fogging up the window. “I-I almost didn’t recognise you.” Jean’s lips press against his neck. Outside, no one can see the way Marco's face contorts when he lets himself melt beneath Jean's fingers.
Jean begins shuffling Marco's slacks down to his knees with small quick tugs. “You know how we’ve talked about what we do - put on performances, get clients to clown with us as we go down on them…” Marco’s slacks tangle around his knees. “Or us, depending how they like it…” Jean’s fingers delicately move Marco’s jaw to peer at the collection of people outside.
Marco’s eyes immediately catch a glimpse of a thick set muscular man on a unicycle. “Sometimes… we even perform for attention,” Jean begins, letting Marco take in the sight before him. In assless shorts held up by suspenders, the muscular man looks surprisingly comfortable despite his ridiculous garb, even as he rides around in a standing position. Every detail in his muscles ripple as he moves, ducking down to hover over something Marco can’t quite see. He keeps moving, bobbing up and down for a few seconds before returning to his normal position. It isn’t until he turns and his lips fall open in silent moan that Marco realises he’s moving up and down on a dildo on the seat. Slick and wet, it slides in and out of him as if he were merely fucking himself on someone else’s cock. The whole image in Marco’s eyes is too peculiar to look away and too hot to focus.
Marco’s breath catches, eyebrow quirking up in interest, and he moans when Jean’s hand works its way around his cock. “Can I have that one?” he begs, grabbing around for any part of Jean he can find, finding part of a silver triangle to grab hold of.
“Well…” Jean raises his tone and immediately sighs when the muscular man hops down off his bike. “Looks like Reiner’s found someone to finish the job.” He rubs over Marco’s slit as he hums thoughtfully. “I had someone else in mind for you.”
Marco shivers, closing his eyes and thrusting himself into Jean’s waiting hand. “F-fuck me, Jean, please.” Without an answer, Jean chuckles and drags Marco backwards into an awkward waddle. Pants around his ankles, he nearly trips, but Jean settles him down onto what feels like a circus ball filled with air. It adjusts to his weight easily, leaving a cold sensation on his ass.
Jean takes a whistle from one of his pockets and blows it with a wink. No sooner than the sound has finished, a tall man appears before the door and lets himself in. “I’m not too late, am I, Jean?” he asks, voice deep but gentle, sparking Marco’s cock to rise higher and draw the man’s attention. Dressed in tight white pants and a striped black and white shirt, he looks like he had stepped out of a mime act, features of his face exaggerated in black. “So this is your boyfriend.”
“That’s the one.” Jean drops instantly to his knees and shuffles over on the carpet floor to position himself between Marco’s legs. “Bert, this is Marco. Marco, this is Bert.” His eyes peer up deviously as he runs his red lips across Marco’s shaft. “And he’s going to be fucking me for your entertainment.”
Stuck between shivering and moaning, Marco loses all words. Somewhere in the haze of Jean’s warm lips on his cock, leaving small marks with his facepaint, Marco completely misses how quickly Bert undresses to reveal his own cock jutting out from the shiny pants coating his rather long legs. His voice has a way of weakening any complaints Marco might have for sitting half naked on a circus ball with his boyfriend’s mouth working over him.
While Jean’s lips continue to tease Marco, Bert steps forward without hesitation to hover behind Jean. He lies down to the ground, silent and focussed, before he grunts and works his legs up and over his head. Bert curls himself up, his body contorted and bending a way Marco has never seen before. From the look in Jean’s eyes, Jean’s not the least bit surprised by Marco’s curiosity. The look disappears within moments when Bert whisks a bottle from his pants pocket and begins to play with Jean’s ass with lube all over his fingers.
Jean moans into Marco’s thigh, leaving a faint imprint with his face paint. Marco can’t help but wonder how much work it will take to remove it all. He pushes himself forward, bouncing his ass on the circus ball to edge himself closer and press his cock against Jean’s cheek. “Good, good, bounce for me,” Jean chuckles through another moan. Bert’s fingers slowly slip over and in Jean, leaving his own cock pointed upward and forgotten in his tangled position.
Marco bounces forward little by little to reach out and touch Jean, giggling at how silly he must look with his penis slapping against his thigh. The circus ball complains beneath him, trying to roll away with every new jolt. His hands fumble behind him, trying to roll it along with him, and it makes for the most finicky seat Marco has ever taken. Yet despite his difficulties, he bites into his lip and watches the glint come into Jean’s black-lined eyes when he buries his red mouth against Marco’s thigh.
Bert laughs lower than Marco expects. Its vibrations seem to ripple through Jean’s back with the way his muscles move and tense beneath his skin. He sighs as he leans into the touch of Bert's fingers. Though his view is obscured, Marco watches the way Bert's wrist moves and imagines how his fingers must be circling and brushing around Jean's hole. Every time his wrist disappears from view, Jean's eyes roll back into his head and his lips part with a breathy groan. Marco grips his thigh and watches impatiently for their next move.
“You like my fingers moving in you, don’t you, Jean?” Bert asks, and Marco realises that he truly enjoys the sound of Bert’s voice. It’s deep and low, almost as if to add weight to his tall muscular frame. Despite the contortion of his body, his muscles seem to bulge from his clothes, stretched and taut, waiting for their next position to get another moan from Jean.
Without a hint of hesitation, Jean’s lips part and he answers with a low grunt and a smile, “Not as much as your cock.” His eyes capture Marco’s, staring into them with just a sliver of a mischievous glint. His hips rock against Bert’s fingers, the bells on his outfit jingling, and his lips bob against Marco’s thigh, mouthing lazily for Marco’s neglected cock. Jean whispers against the skin, “Scissoring me open only does so much.”
Marco presses his weight into the circus ball and strains his thighs to stabilise himself so he can begin to press his cock towards Jean’s face. It takes Jean a few seconds before he begins to whisper praises up and down the shaft with light brushes of his lips and laps of his tongue. Marco almost buckles at the heat of Jean’s mouth and struggles momentarily to keep his balance, arms racing out in awkward positions to keep himself upright.
Bert watches them with a smug look that brightens his face paint. He unravels himself, pulling his legs up and over his back, slowly uncurling from his contorted position. Once unfurled, he pushes all the weight of his body unto his forearms, not an inch of him shaking as his arms show their strength. His knees bring themselves down to the grounds in the most fluid of movements and he rolls back onto them and sits there for a moment. There’s just a hint of sweat in the air around them like the promise of more things to come. Marco tenses his shoulders back and stares Bert down, savouring the thought.
Jean continues his praises, working up and down Marco’s shaft. Hot and wet, he sends shivers through Marco’s thighs and arms and back. Tilting his head, Jean’s hat falls away to the side. His laugh that follows is rough and deep in the joyous sound it makes, but it is no less devious than the look in his eyes. Every movement he makes is calculated, demonstrating not only every muscle in his body but the control he has over them. His hands snake their way up Marco’s thighs until his fingers dig into Marco’s muscle, grabbing for whatever he can through Marco’s slacks.
Behind him, Bert takes to palming over his half-hard dick, making slow deliberate motions with one of his large hands. The other tugs down Jean’s pants further, settling off yet another jingling of bells. His hands move surprisingly nimbly -- in Marco’s opinion -- despite how long and muscular this stranger’s body is. Everything about him is a controlled movement, muscle upon muscle and graceful until the last, and it makes Marco harder at the thought of what he’ll do to Jean.
“You seem rather content with your boyfriend’s cock,” Bert taunts and begins to hump at the hand on his crotch. Emphasising his action, he reaches for the lube bottle again and tosses it up into the air before catching it in the same hand. He fiddles with the lid of the bottle and winks at Marco. The black around his eyes crinkles in the face paint. “I could just watch your ass.”
Bert rubs the lube over his cock with slow exaggerated movements of his wrists. Marco can’t be sure if he’s doing it because he likes it or if he’s clowning around. His hand slaps against his skin, punctuating every lubricated slide up and down, filthy and wet in its sound. His lips part when he thrusts into his hand and the fabric of his pants brushes against his fingers. Something about the way he’s fully exposed but still fully dressed makes the muscles in Marco’s thighs twitch.
With a deep growl, Jean presses his red lips against Marco’s slit. He curls his fingers tightly around the base of Marco’s cock and draws a long surprised moan out of Marco. “Don’t you want me to bounce on your lap?” Jean speaks to Bert and continues to work his tongue over the head of Marco’s cock, pushing his ass up into the air and wiggling it. There’s something so silly about the way Jean then looks over his shoulder and locks eyes with the tall flexible stranger jacking himself off. He chuckles before turning back and scuttling his knees forward and under him, ready for more.
Jean’s lean arms let go of Marco, much to his dismay, and stretch up above him. Blue and silver flowers move with him. Marco is too familiar with them now to be anything but mesmerised by the display. They continue to wave and glisten as Jean pulls the shirt up and over his face, miming an awkward struggle for Marco’s amusement.
It wriggles up his torso, revealing the way his abs stretch up, the definition between them, and the sweat glistening across his skin. His hip bones jut above his pants, their shape directing Marco’s eyes down towards his crotch. His pubic hair peeks above the band of his pants, barely holding onto his hips, just the hint of his cock revealed when he moves.
As the shirt catches on his elbows, his grunting permeating through the fabric, his pants slip further down his thighs. It’s both fascinating and cringe inducing for Marco to watch and he chuckles at how perfectly Jean got himself into his mess. He’s not sure whether if it’s fine for him to laugh at the exaggerated way Jean struggles to break free of his shimmery binds or to moan in satisfaction when Jean’s pants sink lower.
Marco decides to reach out to help him yet his fingertips graze over Jean’s chest. He feels warm and firm to the touch, heat just brimming underneath the surface, growing in his frustrations and struggles. Marco hesitates at the sound of Jean’s mumblings. He enjoys the way Jean makes him smile on most days, but this was something new. This smile is from the promise of this to come and the general gift this performance has been so far.
Lingering his hand by the hem of Jean’s shirt, he hums and takes in the sight of Jean’s chest. Satiated, he pulls up the shirt and assists in the removal of the shirt all together. There is little resistance once Marco decides he wants Jean shirtless and the shirt falls to the floor to the sound of jingling bells.
Jean poses with his fingers poised on his head, fingertips touching his coiffed and frazzled hair while his elbows point outward. With a pout, he makes a mockery of a ballet position or a marble statue. Marco cannot decide which. There’s certainly something statuesque to his physique as he poses for Marco and Bert’s watchful eyes.
With a quick glance behind him to ensure Bert is watching just as closely, he wiggles his ass until the hem slips just down thighs enough to free his erection. He flexes the muscles of his crotch with another laugh and a wink, moving his cock just enough to draw the eyes.
There’s nothing shameful in these walls, Marco reflects, as he lets his eyes glaze and his mind wander. The sounds of moaning and laughing outside feel just as close, just as in reach as Jean before him. It sends shivers through him. How many more people outside were balls deep in someone else? How many of them had painted lips around their cocks or cum all through their hair? The thought of it all makes Marco want it for himself all the more.
Biting his lip, Jean tucks his thumb into his pants to pull them down. He hesitates just long enough to raise his painted eyebrows and catch Marco’s gaze. Another wiggle of his hips sets more of the bells ringing, even with his pants just holding onto his thick-set thighs.
“No, no, keep the pants on,” Marco rushes to say. He jumps forward, barely catching himself on Jean’s thigh, and holds his weight there, pressing against Jean’s pants in protest. They have fallen far enough and Marco’s become rather fond of the light that reflects from them.
Jean releases his hand from his pants with an understanding nod and pushes Marco back into his spherical seat. Shirtless and with his pants barely holding onto him, Jean stands and signals for Bert to approach with a curl of his finger. His call does not go unanswered for long. Bert seems to hump himself across the floor, hand still at his crotch. He takes a moment to grasp himself tightly, stroking up and down the head with a fervent impatience Marco felt simply from watching him.
“You ready to fuck me?” Jean asks and licks his lips. His gaze turns to Marco while he waits for Bert to prep himself with a condom and lube. Quicker and smoother than Marco has ever seen, Bert rolls the condom down his cock, pours lube into his hand, and discards the bottle to grasp himself again.
The bottle rolls across the floor to Marco’s feet at Bert’s strong tap of his foot. A not so subtle nudge that Marco takes to immediately, picking it up and pouring it into his hands. While Bert slicks the condom with the lube in one hand, the other reaches out to once again work his fingers slowly into Jean’s ass, who lets out a deep low moan of satisfaction.
Marco follows Bert’s lead, working the lube up and down himself, thumbing over the head and working the bead of precum along with it. Through half-lidded eyes, he watches Bert lean back to rest his hands on the ground and push himself up. Effortless in his motion, his muscles tense but do not strain, forming a near perfect arch behind Jean.
Breathily heaving, Marco begins to slowly pump his cock with a loose hold. “F-fuck him already,” Marco commands impatiently. His ass rolls back into the circus ball, comfortable and adjusted to his movements, wishing he could be sandwiched between their hot, sweaty, muscled bodies. Just the scent of them, the sight of their controlled physicality, and the sheer concentration as Jean moves himself above Bert’s cock has Marco straining to contain himself.
When Jean finally lowers himself onto Bert, his hands behind him, his pants around his thighs, he moves painfully slowly. Squatting down to Bert’s raised crotch, he maneuvers Bert’s cock into position and rubs his ass against it. He circles his hips there, lips parting at every gasp, at every thrust of his hips. He sinks down slowly, the epitome of muscle control, slow and patient. Every muscle bulges as he begins to fuck himself on the cock of a contortionist in an arch.
Beneath him, Bert also groans and lets the tiniest of quivers through his body when Jean sinks all the way down onto his cock. Though Marco can’t see his face, he can hear the deep needy breathing of a man enjoying this as much as he was. Even his pure dedication to his positions, even now as his body supports Jean’s weight, makes Marco want to see this flexible man come in his boyfriend’s ass.
Jean loses some of his composure when he begins to move his hips and push himself up with only the strength of the muscles in his thighs. His eyes roll into the back of his head while deep guttering moans seems to vibrate through the floor. Marco struggles to sit, pumping himself furiously, rather than jumping up to steal the sounds from Jean’s lips with his.
Despite all the makeup enhancing Jean’s face, there’s still a glint of something in his eye when he glances from Marco’s face to the wall facing him. “You see those toys over there?” He continues to bounce himself on Bert’s cock like it’s nothing more than a series of squats. He awaits for Marco to snap out of his lust-filled daze before he nods his chin upwards in the direction of the glass cabinet behind Marco.
Still holding his cock tightly in his hand, Marco almost drools at the prospect Jean seems to be proposing. He finds himself exceptionally pleased when Jean says,“Throw me three of them.”
Not sure what else to say as he imagines which ones would slide in and out the fastest or which would fill them the most, Marco simply asks, “What are you planning to do with those?” He pushes himself up from his seat and makes his way to the cabinet without another word, savouring the increased volume of Jean’s moans just for him.
Marco grabs three of varying colours and throws them one by one to his boyfriend across the room. Without blinking, Jean catches each one and immediately begins to juggle. The pace of his hips adjusts to his juggling, keeping in time with each catch of the three toys he throws up into the air. Completely mesmerised by the display, Marco returns to his seat and begins to feel over his thighs, trying to prolong the inevitable as long as he can.
The toys land in his hands with barely a sound before Jean tosses them up again. He smiles devilishly with those red lips of his and stares into Marco’s eyes before he replies, “Poke ‘em in a hole that fits.” He laughs loudly, completely unashamed by the moan and shudder that follows. Despite sinking down onto Bert’s cock and gritting his teeth, Jean continues to juggle, never letting his eyes close for too long.
With another clownish laugh, he wiggles and circles his hips, prompting a deep shudder in Bert’s breath behind him. Looking down for a brief moment, eyebrows raised and eyelid winking, Jean directs Marco’s attention to his ass. “I’m already getting poked though.” Marco can see everything in this position when Jean spreads his thighs. Slick with lube and his own juices, Jean seems to glide up and down on Bert’s cock, wet slapping sounds creating the ambient noise of the room.
“Bert makes for a rather robust table to fuck oneself on,” Jean quickens his pace and lets his eyes close briefly. One of the toys misses his hands but Jean makes no attempt to catch it. His eyes snap open again and he chucks another toy to the side. “Generally tables only have four legs.” Jean laughs again, pointing at the presumed fifth leg he was working himself on with the last toy in his hand, brightly coloured anal beads. Marco’s too wrapped up in the image to laugh, instead letting out a whimper at the gruff sound Bert makes when Jean promptly lets all of Bert’s cock inside him.
“Here!” Jean announces and throws the toy Marco’s way. It hits Marco’s face before he can catch it, dragging down his bottom lip before his hands slap it to his chest. Jean snickers under his shaky breath at Marco’s face. “Why not join me in sticking something up your ass?”
Marco’s eyes nearly glaze at Jean’s suggestion. His eyes follow across the curve of Bert’s body, taking in the sweat dripping down his back and the tension in his wrists. Sounds continue to stream from his mouth, low and breathy, but still perfect in his position, so diligent and disciplined despite what Jean subjects him to. His strength alone makes Marco want to come right there and then, but the anal beads in his hand and the cheerful appearance of Jean’s face paint is too much to resist.
Jean notices Marco’s distraction and immediately takes to bouncing his ass against his lap, loud wet slapping following and filling the room. “Come now, Bert, you can fuck me like that, hmm? Thrust a little upwards?” Bert grunts and tries his best to move in his position, managing just a hint of a thrust. It only serves to make him sound more bestial below Jean. “His hands are a little busy so I’m just going to have to bounce a little to get my rocks off.”
Watching the way Jean’s erect cock bounces with him, Marco reaches blindly for the lube bottle nearby. He isn’t going to miss a single moment of Jean enjoying himself for the sake of Marco’s entertainment. As Jean reaches up to grab tightly into his hair, Marco slathers lube all over his fingers, missing and pouring most of it between them. He salvages what he can and leans back on his ball to reach down to finger himself. The lube over his other hand slicks up the anal beads, enough to cover them nicely.
Jean smirks when Marco starts to thrust a finger into himself. His impatience for self gratification grows, heat in him curling and tightening down low. “You look all neglected over there. Bounce your ass closer.” His speed increases when Marco makes eye contact, driving the already lust-driven part of his mind towards the singular mission to get himself off and watch Jean come as he does.
Between shuddering breaths and sighs, Marco insists, “It’s really difficult.” He works himself up further, adding a second finger to the first to the slick awkward sounds of the lube as he thrusts and scissors himself. Before him, Jean stares down at Marco’s endeavour and begins to run his palm up the underside of his length.
Marco relishes being so exposed, his flushed cock aching for his attention against his stomach, and he stares back with half-lidded eyes, chin tilted up in another moan. Despite his busy hand, he attempts to move forward. He thrusts himself onto his fingers, rolling further down the ball, weight moving to his wide-spread legs. He struggles to pull the ball with him and grunts in his effort.
“Put more muscle into it,” Jean suggests with a raised eyebrow. Calmly, he thumbs through his precum and strokes it down his length. His pecs heave with every deep breath, shoulders lowered and relaxed while his thighs work. Marco watches the way the muscles in Jean's legs tense and pull at the pant’s band tight around his legs. The more he bounces on Bert's dick, the more his pants slide down his knees.
Marco shudders and loses all care for how he must look while struggling to get closer to Jean. “You can talk,” Marco retorts between the rolls of his hips, eyeing over Jean’s lean, muscular body and how his graceful movements have dissolved into rough displays of his strength and endurance. Marco can’t bear to look away.
“Don’t be embarrassed.” Jean smiled wider, sucking air in through his teeth to feed the labouring of his lungs. His huffs mixed with the sounds of Bert’s behind him. “I like watching you squirm. It’s amusing.”
Jean tilts his head up and holds his shoulders back with the confidence and sense of pride that Marco had fallen in love with. Seeing it now only sends a surge of heat through Marco’s body and he slips his fingers out to grasp his neglected cock tightly. “Says the clown,” he says through the relieved sigh that escapes from his lips at the first pump of his hand.
His red lips look positively brighter when Jean reveals his teeth again. His chuckles, as deep and rich as they were, make Marco’s dick twitch. “I find the humour in everything… Now wouldn’t it be funny if you fucked yourself silly right in front of me?”
Bert groans deeply and begins to move himself up with small thrusts at first, growing rougher with each one. To Marco’s surprise, he manages to keep himself in position, never faltering like Marco suspects he would if Jean was riding him like that. Jean moans loudly in response, following with a cackle and a devious grin. When their eyes meet, Jean’s lips, red and bright, now pout to get his way.
Marco rolls over without hesitation, one hand pulling the ball with him as he scuttles, the other so desperate in jerking himself that he can’t let go. He narrows the gap between them and spreads himself wide beneath Jean, rubbing the anal beads down through the mess of lube he left between his legs. He bucks his hips twice before he begins to sink the toy into himself with a low shuddering sigh.
Though his eyes roll into the back of his head at the sensation of the anal beads inside him, Marco delights in the sounds Jean makes at the sight of him. Huffs and groans and moans mix with just the hint of whimpering that lets Marco know that Jean is close. The sound of Bert below him mixes with the fast wet strokes of Jean roughly jerking himself, desperately needing to come.
A light touch under Marco’s chin jolts his eyes open. With his fingertips, Jean pulls Marco’s face forward and leans to close the distance. Incapable of making more than desperate animalistic grunts, Jean presses his lips against Marco and deepens their kiss impatiently. Jean sucks and nips at Marco’s lips, tasting and flicking across them with his tongue, letting his pleasure reverberate between their mouths. Marco wonders how much of a mess his face paint will be with how sloppily they kiss between pleasuring themselves.
“You feel that, hmm?” Jean asks through his own gasps and moans, eyes half-lidded and barely able to talk through the bliss curling and tightening in his groin. “We’re all going to come in one big mess, Marco.” He leans over Marco, staring down at how deliciously slow Marco pumps himself with the toy, while Marco stares at how readily, how easily, how enthusiastically Jean takes another man’s dick. “I’m going to come on you.”
At his words, Marco gasps louder, reaching his peak and tumbling over with a flash of white behind his eyes. He shakes and convulses forward through the last thrusts of the toy, his tight grip milking every last drop of cum he can before smearing it onto his thigh.
Bert hurries his pace, desperate to finish, sounded tired and worn out from his exertion. With every move, Jean’s legs begin to shake and his chest heaves. Bert finally comes with a loud, long moan. The rich sound of his relief makes Marco’s hips buck of their own accord to feel the sensation of the toy still within him. He removes it slowly to savour it and slides down the circus ball to sit on the ground.
Warm drops of Jean’s cum splatter across Marco’s chest seconds later and lie there thick and white as Jean rides out the last of his orgasm. He lifts himself off Bert with an almost disappointed sigh, finally letting the tall man free from his position. While Bert lowers himself to the ground and stretches out his muscles, exhausted, Jean plants himself squarely by Marco’s side.
Marco’s nervous laughter is the first sound any of them can make besides huffing. His eyes look over Jean’s outfit, impressively still tangled around his legs. His face paint is a little worse for wear, sweat creating tiny trails in the white. The red of his lips is smeared messily across his lips and chin; some of it even touches his nose. Marco chuckles again at the thought of how much of it was now on his face.
The three of them all take deep breaths to gather their strength. No matter how much Marco breathes in, none of it seems to stay in his lungs long enough to be satisfied. He marvels at how easily the other men stand, adjust their clothes, and begin to clean the room.
“So that’s my job,” Jean finally adds with a weak relieved laugh. He bends over to pick up the anal beads that had rolled onto the floor and throws them at Marco. “And those are now yours.” Marco holds him loosely in his hands, starting to feel the sleepy sensation of exhaustion taking over his body.
Bert pulls him up off the ground with ease. Marco wonders how much this man or even the man on the unicycle could lift with those muscles in his weariness. His knees buckle a little at the thought of even touching them but he quickly shakes away the thoughts in his mind. He is done for now and ready to sleep the night away.
“Let’s get you to a shower,” Jean’s voice is soothing as he fixes Marco up with a fresh bathing gown, gathers his clothes, and takes Marco by the arm. Still in his daze, Marco doesn’t realise Bert has started talking to Jean until Jean’s face looks over his shoulder. “I’m going to take him home, yeah.”
Bert’s chuckle follows from behind them. “Don’t worry, Jean, I’ll clean up.” The shuffling of sounds rises behind them but is quickly smothered by the raucous sounds of moans and laughter that rush through the door when Jean opens it. The scent in the air seems so thick out here where men continue to languish over each other’s bodies.
“Thanks, Bert. Appreciate it,” Jean responds warmly, tugging Marco closer to his side. He lets Marco relax against his bare chest for a moment where it’s warm and comfortable. Staring down at that chiseled detail in Jean’s chest, Marco nearly forgets where he is until Jean’s voice breaks him from his daydream. “You look exhausted.”
Jean kisses his nose and smile works its across Marco’s tired face. “Yeah, somewhat. Wash me down and take me home, will you?” Jean gives a small nod and leads him off through the bowels of the club. Everything after that is a blur.
* * *
The next day it feels peculiar to sit in the library with a book in front of him and be subjected to the dull ache in his thighs. Reading the page in front of him on some obscure detail of architecture in the 1960s doesn’t distract from the phantom tingling of Jean’s lips on his thighs. The dull glow and consistent buzz of the library lights in the silence of the quiet study area is nothing compared to the sounds of moans filling a room almost the same size as this one.
Marco had prepared himself for this study session with two cups of coffee, a cold shower, and the most uncomfortable clothes he could find. Yet every few breaths he finds his own catching, like somehow he was still pushing himself along the ground on a circus ball with only the power of his thighs. His eyes stare out at the collection of blurring words amongst the grey monotony of the library desk and the mottley carpet. All of it seems so drab and lacking in the colours he could almost breathe in last night.
His fingers dig into his knee at the thought of Bert licking his lips as Jean rode him, half-undressed and without a care of what Marco or anyone would think. Closing his eyes, he can still picture it, the two of them sweating and pulsing and fucking each other until Jean reached his peak; the facepaint melting around their faces, lips gasping for more air between thrusts.
“That is not how you’re going to get any of that assignment done.” A familiar voice stirs him from his daydream. With blurry eyes suddenly adjusting back to reality, he turns to catch the smiling face of one of his fellow students, Sasha. She stands with a hand on her hip, quizzical look rested upon the tip of her smile. There’s something almost too innocent about her yellow sundress and white cardigan that Marco feels almost dirty for gazing upon her with his daydream still fresh in his mind.
He laughs, although too slow to be in time with the semblance of a normal conversation. “I guess you’re right. I’m really struggling to focus today.” The image of Bert’s cock lining up with Jean and sliding into that perfectly round ass flickers into his mind. Marco curls his toes to stifle the urge to palm along his zipper. “How are you doing with it?”
Sasha doesn’t notice the nervous way his tone rises and perches herself on the desk next to him. “It’s going? I’ve kind of been reading over lecture notes and hoping the answers jump out at me.” She laughs louder than anyone should in a library but shrugs off the annoyed looks of students sitting nearby.
Even as she speaks Marco tries his best to maintain his grip on reality, but the sensations on his thighs and the flashes in his mind draw him away again. The man on the unicycle’s thighs circle round and round, muscles rippling as he holds himself with that incredible strength, and Marco wonders how he must have prepared himself to take that seat in his ass.
“Yo, Marco!” she calls out to him with a wave of her hand. It is then that he realises he has drifted off again. “Dude, I think you need to go have a nap or something. You’re really not with it.” She tilts her head in concern and slides herself off the desk. “Go sort yourself out, okay? You worry me.”
Marco nods a few times as if to convince himself. He can’t manage more than a hum with the rapping of the door playing back through his head. He still can’t believe what he found when he walked through that door. With another sigh and shake of his head, Marco folds up his belongings and goes about his day.
The week passes painfully slow. Between the assignments and the poor sleep, the stress creeps up to grab hold of his neck as the daunting wave of finals draws ever closer. When a moment lulls, he finds himself breathing deeper not for settling his nerves, but the sounds and images of strong men fucking each other to the sound of absolute depravity.
Lectures with his friends beside him become a form of torture, reminding him of the masses of men treating themselves for a night of debased luxury. His classes feel like the room Jean had dragged him into; even walking past glass cabinets reminds him. Even his friends can’t seem to shake him from it. Not Connie’s awful jokes. Not Sasha’s insistence that he see something she’s found. Worst of all, Jean’s text of support only make matters worse.
Marco opens his phone to find the cheerful message, ‘finals will pass sooner than you think! you’ll do great!’ Though Marco appreciates the message, his distance from his boyfriend while he focuses on studies has been hard. The last time he saw him was the night at the club. Now he can only picture Jean in costume. He quickly rattles off a reply. ‘i can’t stop thinking about it’.
Jean responds instantly in his usual cheek, ‘about what? ;)’. Marco feels himself groan before he realises the sound actually escapes him in the dark of his dorm room. He cringes when he admits what has plagued him all week in a flurry of swiping and sends it with a gulp. ‘that other night…’
A minute passes before Marco receives another text, but this one comes up on his screen just as bright. ‘you still feel ok about my job? Right??’ Marco stares at the screen and shuts his eyes tight, worrying that he’s made Jean worry about revealing that aspect of his job. He has no idea what kind of effect it’s had on him.
Marco dismisses the worry as best he can in his next text. ‘yeah, yeah it’s fine.’ He hesitates and sends only ‘but’ to allow himself more time. ‘It’s really distracting,’ he admits, noting how he can only manage this by phone. He doubts he could say anything like this with his own lips.
‘What is?’ Jean asks in another quick text. He always seems to make the effort quicker when there’s something potentially amusing in the future. Marco can just picture his lips smiling wide and they’re painted red.
Tucking his chin into his chest, Marco types out another text slowly, eyes closing a little as he feels the embarrassment crawling up his neck. ‘I dunno. Stuff. Like that guy on the unicycle.’ His shoulders tense up and a shudder works its way across him at the memory of Jean pressing him against the glass door.
‘Oh! You should probably do something about that then B)!’ Jean teases with one last text. With a huff, immediately rolls over to place his face into a pillow. He resists the urge to scream but the sounds of his own frustration echo in his mind anyway. If he doesn’t deal with these thoughts, he might never be able to find focus again, especially with finals closing in.
* * *
When Marco finds his way to the club again, he can’t contain the nervous jitter in his hands. Seven torturous days have passed with images of sweaty men with muscles that could lift him, push him against a wall, and have their way with him filling up his mind until he is no longer sure that he can stand another day. So he stands before the door again, knocking the same rhythm as last time, and already feels the tightness in his pants when the door opens.
“Oh ho, this is a surprise,” the man at the front desk chirps and drags Marco with him. He is no less charming than the last time and jumps behind the desk to pull out a gold band. The letters V.I.P. adorn it in a simple black, lettering large enough that Marco is convinced anyone in the room could probably read it. Before he can protest, it’s around his wrist and he’s pushed down the hall. “Have the fuck of your life!” the man wishes and leaves Marco to fend to the visual feast on his own.
Just as he remembers, men lie across beds, mouths and hands working across each other. This time Marco’s eyes are drawn to a man in magenta suspenders and bright yellow shorts riding up his ass. The neon orange of his lips and yellow over his eyes highlight the bright grin on his face as he laps the remains of a cherry and cream pie off the chest of another man writhing underneath him. Marco finds himself licking his own lips.
Marco wanders past the beds, catching eyes of other men who either look away with a smile in the corner of their lips or wink in his direction. Everything around him from the lights to the sounds to the colours is exactly as he remembered. Searching around, he finds Jean chatting lively to a group of men half paying attention while they fondle each other in front of him.
“Jean!” Marco calls out with the desperation of man held captive by his imagination. Jean’s head turns briefly to catch a glimpse of his boyfriend before bowing and waving awkwardly at his group to excuse himself. He jogs up to Marco dressed in a new outfit of white lace and frills with a quizzical look on his face.
Sheepishly Marco avoids his eyes when he asks, “What are you doing here? I thought you had to study.” Jean’s tone drips with self-satisfaction, pretending he doesn’t know the exact reason Marco is here and practically aching for another turn. The dark blue on his lips tugs up into that familiar smirk and Marco wonders if that’s the look he had on his face when he read the texts that night.
“I tried…” he begins and stops himself with a gulp. His throat feels a lot drier than he expected and even at the thought of that feeling he wonders how dry it would be with a cock down his throat. “But I kept getting… distracted.” His eyes wander around the room, immediately finding Bert’s familiar form bent up in yet another peculiar position. He can’t help the shiver that runs across his skin and down his spine when he sees him again.
Jean searches around with his teeth pressed into his lip, worrying at the skin as he turns his head. “I’m working right now, Marco.” He frowns and avoids Marco’s eyes, too preoccupied by the crowds around them. His voice becomes a low whisper that does little to dampen Marco’s erection. “As much as I love a good quickie, I can’t exactly…”
Jean’s painted eyebrows rise almost comically when he catches a glimpse of something. Before he manages to speak, a deep voice cuts him off. “Well, hello!” A tall man dressed like a ringmaster stops beside them, placing his hands in front of him, one hand over the other. Painted with white and gold, the man looks impressive beneath the brim of his ornate top hat, his voice matching its gravitas when he addresses Marco, “I see you’ve returned.”
Perplexed by the sheer height and authority of the strange man, Marco manages little more than a string of sounds, “Uh-uhm…” He struggles for words but finds no more when he glimpses the apprehensive look on Jean’s face. He’s in no better position than Marco is right now.
The tall man’s short blond hair tucks under his top hat, dark hair peeking out underneath and behind his ears. His great eyebrows filled with gold to match the fine trim of his tailcoat and white pants. Everything about him spoke of his grandeur and importance. The fact that he knew who Marco was had Marco’s pants tightening.
“Did you plan on passing another freebie, Jean?” The man asks of Jean with a low purr. Jean seems to quiver under his gaze, eyes darting between him and Marco. “To your boyfriend?” The ringmaster turns back to Marco and assesses Marco’s face with a low hum.
Jean stands to attention, shoulders back, so oddly official in his clown garb. “I-I hadn’t meant to, Mr. Smith.” His lips press together, sneaking a worried look at Marco’s face before turning back his attention. “Marco was merely curious about--”
“Our services?” The man asked, though of Marco instead of Jean. His fingers take Marco’s chin into his hand and tilt it up to stare into his gold trimmed face. Marco wonders how Jean manages to cope with a boss this handsome, but he suspects there’s very little coping involved.
“I want to do it again,” he blurts out under his breath, more to the floor or Jean’s tight pants than to Jean himself. He feels desperate enough to say anything now if it means that he can experience it all again. He would pay anything for that again. “I want someone to fuck me this time.”
Jean’s boss laughs heartily, letting Marco’s chin free with a smile of approval. He hums and turns to Jean with a raised eyebrow. “If you’re willing to cover his fee, I will allow it.” He turns to leave and pats Jean’s shoulder with a heavy hand. “He seems like he might need it.”
With a swish of his red coat, the man walks off into the crowds, casually catching a rogue toy that flew his way and tossing it back. Marco watches him for a few moments, noting the way the gold around his eyes and lips catches the light, how his posture remains proud and composed regardless of his movement or the expression on his face.
Jean meets him with raised eyebrows when Marco finds the courage to look back again, practically quivering with anticipation with his confessions out in the air. “You’ve been thinking about this for some time.” Jean’s smile tells Marco how proud Jean is of his desperation, his need. It’s only encouraging and Marco loves it.
“I can’t stop,” he admits, letting the words linger on his tongue. He replays all the dirty thoughts that had played across his mind. The sweat and the moans and the touches and the aching all play in his mind, sending shivers across his skin, dreaming of more to satiate the urges.
Jean grins in a way that says he’s got ideas playing behind that glint in his eye. He steps forward, bold in bold makeup, and stands so close Marco can almost breathe in his confidence, his bravado radiating from every part of him. “Say no more.” Jean leans forward, stroking his hand up Marco’s chest slowly until his hand rests on Marco’s shoulder. “As sexy as my ass is, you like a bit of muscle, right?”
Marco hums his approval and lets his mouth fall open, drawing in air to keep up with his heavy breathing. Jean knows exactly what he likes and Marco isn’t about to deny that either. Jean is sweet and kind and makes Marco laugh, but sometimes Marco wants a little more to grab onto, someone with strength and sweat that can blow his mind in more ways than one. Pleasantly, Jean had always encouraged him.
“I think I know just the fuckbuddy for you,” Jean purrs, rubbing a thumb across Marco’s shoulder. A sly look flickers through his facepaint and tugs at the edges of his lips. He drags his fingers down Marco’s chest, pressing into his clothes, into skin, and makes Marco huffs with building frustration. Jean points to a side section of blue and white, separated from the masses by only a thin divider.
Marco can’t believe his luck. The idea of being so close and so exposed makes the blood in his veins sing, heart beating faster in anticipation. “That one?” he asks, beginning to reflexively stroke across his chest.
Jean nods, his white teeth showing through the blue of his lips. He looks positively devious in such atypical colours. “Mmmhmm. Get yourself in there and strip.” His command comes through lightly, more of a jest than a direction, but Marco knows to take it seriously. He wants to take it seriously.
He takes a step and realises Jean’s not following. Pausing, he turns back and finds Jean watching him. Slight disappointment rings at the idea that Jean might not be there this time. Perhaps he can’t be after his boss’ earlier intrusion. “What about you?”
Smug and with a pleased narrowing of his eyes, Jean undresses Marco with his gaze. “I figure I’ll watch, and if I like what I see, I may join in.” Even with the white face paint, the detailing around his eyes, and the frills of white all over his body, there’s not a hint of innocence in Jean’s Pierrot-inspired form. Beneath it he’s filthy enough that it’s a surprise his costume is so blaringly white underneath the spotlights. Marco resolves to make it filthy at his first chance.
He quickly leaves Jean’s side and makes his way behind the divider, promptly following Jean’s instructions. His shoes and socks are the first to go, discarded by the single chair by the far wall. His belt, pants, and shirt follow in quick succession. He regrets his speed immediately when the thought of him standing naked in this room waiting for a stranger sends goosebumps down his arms. He pushes away the thought as he undresses completely and throws his underwear over in the pile. His body stands ready as he waits, his cock already hard.
The blond man that enters within moments takes him by surprise. The bright suspenders over his shoulders are exactly the same as the ones Marco had seen before. Chiselled abs and thick thighs, the man dresses like a strongman, in the tiniest, shiniest, most ridiculous shorts Marco has ever seen. The bulge Marco finds when his eyes wander down the broad, hairy chest, gleaming under the lights, can barely stay within its colourful, sequined confines. The tight rows of orange and pink and red mix together with crooked sequins and strokes made my rogue fingers. Each short legs rides up his thighs, while the band slides down his hips, the gap between skin and band revealing curly tufts of blond pubes. Marco forgets for a moment that he’s the one that’s naked.
“You’re raring to go.” The strongman sounds pleased, his eyes boldly snaking their way down Marco’s body. He steps forward, eyes never meeting Marco’s, focussed on the flushed tip of Marco’s cock instead. Marco doesn’t dare move when he stands towering above him, almost touching his erection with that bulge. “When Jean said you’d be waiting for me, I didn’t know you’d be like this.” His hand palms up the underside of Marco’s length. Marco gulps and shivers, more sensitive than he thought, weak to the touch. “You can call me Reiner.”
Marco’s lips part, forgetting whether he is supposed to breathing in or out and finding himself short either way. “H-he said that, d-did he?” Marco manages to stutter. His tongue forgets how to form words, taking to licking his lips at the way this stranger touches him with his large, coarse hands. “I’ve seen you before. You’re…” Marco pauses to trace the muscle definition in his biceps and finds his hands grabbing for his abs without a moment’s hesitation. They’re as firm and slicked with sweat as he had hoped. “Quite skilled on a unicycle.”
The strongman’s abs tense beneath Marco’s fingers when he laughs. “You saw that? Must have enjoyed it to be back here so soon.” His broad hand grasps tightly around the base of Marco’s cock. “What were you wanting to do with me today? I’m all slicked up and prepped for you.” The movement stops all together and Marco groans in indignation, frustrated enough to want to growl and fight against the man’s obvious strength advantage, even if it just meant fucking his hand.
Reiner smiles, pleased with himself, slipping a condom out of his tight shorts. “It’s you so we don’t have to use one of these.” Marco freezes in place at the suggestion. All he can feel is Reiner’s warm hand around his dick and all he thinks is how good barebacking could feel. “I know you’re clean thanks to your boyfriend.”
Eyelids falling closed, Marco bites his lips and considers Reiner’s suggestion. “But it’s risky,” he protests but immediately feels his voice weaken at the strong grip on his dick. “I mean, I got tested because Jean told me to, but you…” His eyes fall to the bulge behind the sequins, unable to not notice how much it seems to have pushed at the rows of colour shimmering in the light. He almost forgets he is standing there naked until Reiner pulls his hand slowly up his shaft.
“I wouldn’t have this job if I wasn’t tested regularly, found clean, and took the same prevention pills your boyfriend does,” Reiner mutters in such a low deep voice that Marco might have jumped on him if his cock wasn’t held captive. He waits for Reiner to keep talking and soaks up every detail of the shine with a lingering gaze across across his chest. “It’s all about precautions.”
Marco lets out a long breath and weighs his options. “Jean spoke to you?” Marco wonders how much Jean has passed on about him, about his likes, about his preferences, especially when he already knows what he knows. “So that’s why he sent you in here.”
Humming and moving his hand around the head of Marco’s cock, Reiner nods with a smirk. “I’m only offering because it’s you and I know we’re both good.” He shakes the condom wrapper in his hand and leans close to stare into Marco’s eyes. “It’s up to you… whether you want this or not.”
Reiner lets go of Marco and takes a step back to assess him fully. The lack of sensation makes Marco grunt in frustration, but he understands the reason Reiner can’t touch him before he answers. Biting his lip, Marco eats up every ounce of muscle on Reiner’s body and wonders how good it would feel to be inside him, especially with nothing between them. “Jean would never let you anywhere near me if there was a risk. I think we can leave it.” Marco smiles when he sees Reiner’s dick twitch behind the sequins.
With one quick step, Reiner drops the condom and closes the gap again to wrap his hand around Marco’s cock. “I was hoping you’d say that.” Marco realises how desperately he wants that attention back again, moving his hips to feel the friction. In answer, Reiner thumbs across Marco’s slit, drawing circles over the head.
He follows by revealing a lube packet somehow hidden in the tiny room left in those shorts. With one hand, he rips it open and works the lube all over Marco’s length. The sensation makes Marco shiver, impatient and wanting so much more than the light brushes Reiner’s hands makes. Before Marco can do much more, Reiner edges closer to rub against him, running the head of Marco’s cock over his shorts.
Lost for words, Marco doesn’t know what to say. His cock currently captive in those burly hands of Reiner’s, he wonders whether he truly wants to be fucked as he first intended. The image of Reiner took over Marco’s mind; his chiseled ass working up and down on that dildo, shameless and filthy in the way it slid so perfectly into him, while he kept his focus and his balance. Marco wants a piece of that now too.
“Think I could fuck you like that?” Marco blurts, his senses blurring at the feel of blood rushing up his neck and down to his crotch. It makes no sense, he realises, but the words are everything he means. There’s no harm in asking for what he never realised that he wanted until this moment. He rewinds back, taking extra measures to be sure he’s not pushing boundaries. “How do you like it?”
Reiner smirks and considers Marco’s face. His fingers move up and down Marco’s shaft with a tight grip before he says a word. “You like it when a strong man bottoms for you, hmmm?” He teases a thumb across Marco’s slit, the coarse texture of his skin making Marco roll his eyes to the back of his head. “Want me to take you all in?”
He takes his shorts with his spare hand and expertly moves them down despite how much they stick to his skin to reveal his own erection. Marco watches in awe and gasps as the strongman slips out his cock and pulls him forward, grabbing both their cocks together with only one of his hands. “Is that what you want, Marco?” Reiner asks, rubbing his thick fingers up and down them both. Marco doubts himself for a moment, considering how blissed out he might be if he rode Reiner’s thick cock, bucking himself senseless until the crowd beyond the divider could hear him. He resists the temptation, however, and nods with renewed determination.
“Well then.” Reiner pulls away with a mockingly apologetic smile. Shorts framing his cock, he appears to have developed muscle everywhere that Marco can see. Marco imagines how much training that must have been, how strong he must be, how easily he could hold Marco up and fuck him while standing. “Better come check and see if I’ve prepared myself to your satisfaction.”
Turning away, Reiner reveals the back half of his shorts are missing, his ass enhanced by the tight hold of his sequined shorts. Marco bites his lips at the sight of Reiner pulling a mat across the ground and kneeling down onto it. At first he rests all his weight on his forearms, hands flat. Marco can’t believe what he’s seeing and steps over cautiously, afraid he might ruin the image before him. Just as he approaches, Reiner puts his feet behind him, flat against the mat, and pushes himself up, ass in the air. Though no more than a simple yoga pose, it’s a whole other view for Marco with Reiner’s shorts giving him the perfect view.
Amazed by the definition, Marco grabs Reiner’s ass without thinking, wanting to touch and taste and hold whatever he can of that physique. “I should probably put you to the test.” Marco runs his hands across Reiner’s cheeks, spreading them apart, digging his fingers into the taut flesh and sequined fabric. Marco’s finger slips in at this first try, Reiner’s ass already slick with lube, some of it leaking out at Marco’s touch. “You weren’t kidding.” He slips a second finger in with little more than a small moan from Reiner. Marco almost feels disappointed that he can’t work him up himself, but perhaps that means Marco is the best saved for last.
“I can’t help myself. I like it when things just slip into me,” Reiner chuckles and moves his ass against Marco’s probing fingers. Marco takes it as a hint, working a third finger in, and smiles when Reiner groans appreciatively. “Do I seem ready for you?” Every part of Reiner seems far more ready than Marco could ever have hoped for, and he is just about begging for Marco to go balls deep.
A low chuckle behind them surprises Marco, making him prod Reiner deeper than he intended and drawing out a low breathy moan. Jean’s voice follows, amused and content with the image he sees. “You both work fast.” He walks over, surveying Marco and Reiner, frozen in place under Jean’s half-lidded gaze. “I was bringing you supplies.” With a wink to Marco, he holds up spare condoms and lube in his hand. “But I see Reiner’s asked for bareback.”
With a deep satisfied sigh, Marco removes his fingers and strokes his cock with his other hand. His fingers produce slick wet sounds at every pump, but it’s not enough. “I think I need a bit more,” he suggests to Jean, who answers him with a click of the lube bottle lid and moving to his side to slick his boyfriend up with a few strokes. “Do you plan on watching?”
Jean disappears for moment behind Marco’s back, dropping off his supplies. He doesn’t answer until he stands behind his Marco and kisses up his boyfriend’s neck. “I planned on giving you what you wanted.” His hands grab across Marco’s chest and thighs, clawing at his skin and leaving red trails in his wake. His blue lips work across Marco’s shoulder, leaving the faintest traces of colour. “But first, Reiner.” He nudges Marco forward so his cock presses against Reiner, who patiently waits for Marco to have his way with him.
Reiner presses himself back, impatient and grunting, showing off the strength in his body just as Bert had. But where Bert had the flexibility and the control, Reiner has the raw power and the tense energy that encouraged Marco’s desires. “Hurry up, Marco.”
Marco doesn’t hesitate a second longer, lining himself up and pressing himself in slowly. He grits his teeth, huffing around him, working himself further and further into the warm pleasure that greets him. Reiner holds himself steady beneath him, letting out deep satisfied moans for every inch Marco sinks into him. He’s louder than Marco ever thought he would be, but the sounds he makes have Marco sinking his fingers into Reiner’s thick thighs.
“F-fuck” is all Marco manages to say when he bottoms out. Reiner’s ass is as tight and slick and hot as Marco had been hoping it would be. Marco huffs, moving his hips just so, wondering how many times Reiner must have fucked himself with toys and how many men have fucked him before his turn. Yet here Reiner was, a strong muscular man, essentially bowing before him and letting him sink his cock into his ass. Marco will savour every single moment of this.
Marco grits his teeth, letting the feeling wash over him, and Marco’s eyes roll at that thought alone. As if hearing Marco’s mind, Reiner tightens around him, provoking a low guttural growl from Marco’s chest. He breathes in deeply, fingertips digging into the firm muscle of Reiner’s thighs in an attempt to ground himself.
Reiner smiles when he glances over his shoulder, balancing all of his weight on his left hand. He begins to move, letting his weight fall to his hand before pushing himself up again. The movement isn’t much but it’s enough, even if it looks ridiculous like this. The physical feat sends a shiver through Marco’s body, pooling with the heat in his groin. Reiner’s strength is something Marco expected, but this is something else entirely. Reiner gives as much as he can and falls back onto two hands to continue his push-ups.
His hands rubbing over Reiner’s thighs and watching the man essentially fuck himself on his cock, Marco lets him move and enjoys the trail of kisses Jean works down his neck. “You planned this,” he accuses and tries to catch Jean’s gaze. It’s a weak accusation and they both know it, but Jean retaliates by taking Marco’s nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and giving them a light squeeze.
Marco tenses immediately. He takes a sharp breath in, shoulders tensing back and hips bucking forward. Reiner takes the movement as a cue to press himself back and grunts when Jean leans around Marco to slap his thigh. “You could say that,” Jean admits when he returns back to his position, pressing himself up against Marco’s ass. “Are you enjoying yourself?” His hands work down Marco’s sides, stroking over all the places he knows are sensitive before digging them into Marco’s thighs.
Reiner takes the cue to begin moving again, leaning forward as he did before, moving faster and more desperate for friction, but Marco stops him with a tight grip. Hands holding tight to Reiner’s hips, sequins pressing into his skin, Marco pulls Reiner back with a firm pull. He slaps against Reiner’s ass, smiling at the satisfaction of the sound, and pulls out to thrust back in. The muscles tense beneath his fingers, each delayed stroke over them working Reiner into deeper breaths.
Jean kisses up Marco’s neck again before nibbling on his ear and whispering, “What’s keeping you?” His hands rub themselves over Marco’s chest and spur his boyfriend into bucking his hips. The thrusts begin slow at first, Marco withdrawing from Reiner only to slam back in each time. His hands find their grip on Reiner’s hips and his lips part to sigh at the way Reiner moves so easy at every tug.
Reiner’s enthusiasm begins with the rolling of his hips. How he manages to hold himself up like that and still so readily take every inch that Marco has to give makes Marco hold on tighter, moving harder and faster to hear the slap of Reiner’s ass against him. It seems to echo in the room, melding with the sounds of moaning outside, and Marco grunts as he tries to out do them all with an increasing pace.
With Jean’s hands exploring further down his sides, Marco listens to them both. Reiner’s breathing is heavy; low pleased moans answering every thrust, and Marco watches as the lube begins to run down his spread legs and over his shorts. Jean in comparison breathes soft huffs of air down his skin, his hands grabbing down Marco’s legs despite his movements. Jean leaves trails of mischievous kisses down his thighs, getting lower and lower until Jean crouches completely behind him, hands moving up to cup Marco’s ass.
Marco hears the sound of rustling behind him and takes a deep breath, bottoming inside Reiner again, only to take a sharp gasp at the warm touch of Jean’s breath between his cheeks. “Think you can handle a little more?” Jean asks and presses his lips into Marco’s ass. Marco can only imagine how much of the blue on his lips will remain once he does what Marco hopes he will.
Spreading his legs, Marco slows his pace, pushing and grabbing onto Reiner’s ass, encouraging him to move as he did before. Reiner takes Marco’s lead and leans forward onto his hands to continue with his push ups. Marco guides him into position, sinking a little lower and separating his legs further for Jean.
It takes a few seconds before Jean nuzzles his way beneath his cheeks. His hand sneaks its way down beneath Marco’s thighs and slaps its way from one to another. Marco can barely hear Jean’s muffled chuckle but he can feel the buzz of it tingling through his skin between the light sting at Jean’s hands. “Ff--rr. Moofff ‘em moorrr.” His suggestion breaks down into chuckles and he gasps a breath, pulling himself free from Marco’s ass.
Unable to stop himself from keeping up the rhythm, Marco keeps thrusting but loses his grip on Reiner as the laughter bursts from his chest. “What on earth are you doing?” Marco tries his best to look back, catching a glimpse of Jean’s messy face paint and blue smeared across his lips, leaning on his knees behind him. Marco can only wish he could have a much better view. “I thought you were going to do more than talk to my ass.”
Jean slaps between Marco’s thighs, harder and faster, exaggerating the movements under Marco’s attention. “Move your legs more.” His slapping sounds like a drum roll against his skin. Jean turns his hands to one side and taps off a more intense drum roll as he waits. Marco obeys immediately, wiggling his feet further apart until Jean soothes Marco’s thighs with his hands. “Much better. Now you’ll be stuck between us.”
Reiner takes the hint to rut back again Marco, rolling his hips almost shamelessly just as he had on the unicycle. Marco lets him have his way, resting a hand on Reiner’s back and feeling the way his muscles move beneath his skin, watching them ripple just for him. The spine of his back shines underneath the lights of the room. “You like watching men move, don’t you?” Reiner asks and turns to stare into Marco’s eyes, almost challenging Marco to fuck him senseless.
He almost takes Reiner up on his challenge but the feel of Jean’s hands kneading his ass cheeks and the warmth of Jean’s tongue lapping between them prevents him from doing more than just bucking his hips. With Reiner before him, strong and consistent in his push ups, Marco leans his weight forward onto him, resting on all of that strength underneath him, and allows Jean more room to do his best work.
Finally able to press his way in, Jean tests one lick with a satisfied moan. His tongue flicks and darts, sending jolts through Marco’s nerves and making him roll his eyes, losing sense of whatever he is supposed to be focussing on. Between his cock in Reiner’s ass and Jean’s tongue on his, Marco feels blissfully and willingly lost beneath the two of them. He can barely manage to move as Jean rubs his face paint all over his ass and Reiner presses up against him, taking Marco as if he is nothing more than the dildo on his unicycle.
Marco almost melts when Jean’s warm wet tongue slides over his quivering rim. He works the tip of his tongue around its sensitive edge, dipping down and around to make the muscles in Marco’s legs weak. Jean encircles that tight ring of muscle over and over, alternating between the tip and blade of his tongue and breathing out huffs of his hot breath. His hands take hold of Marco’s cheeks and pull them aside, his face working in closer and probably smearing whatever remains of his facepaint when his tongue darts inside of Marco.
At Marco’s breathy whimper, Reiner takes the opportunity to change his position. Once again he leans on one hand then casually crosses the other arm behind his back for show. Marco’s appreciation of his movement comes out as little more than choked groans and fingers that knead into his thighs. His touch encourages Reiner to reach behind to squeeze his own ass, putting his shorts and cheek aside to improve Marco’s view, still continuing his impressive one arm push ups. Lube continues to leak out of him at the wet sounds Marco makes every time he slides in, and out. Marco cannot help but watch how easily Reiner takes him, wants him, all while showing off his immense strength and control.
Marco can feel the pressure building, from the tension in his thighs to the heat in his groin. It all curls together and tightens at every glance that reminds him of the fact he’s willingly sandwiched between the two of them. But before Marco can give in, Jean pulls away and pushes himself up to his feet. “You want more, right?” Jean asks as if he knows exactly what Marco wants before he has even thought to ask. Jean’s fingers take after his tongue, working their way around before slipping in one by one at a slow rhythm.
Marco hisses a “yes” and pushes himself against Jean’s fingers, wanting and needing more. The humiliation of needing to move himself back towards Jean, who stands completely dressed in his Pierrot outfit, makes every self-guided thrust into him more sensitive. To add to Marco’s dishevelment, Reiner pauses beneath him and forces Marco to work for his own pleasure, moving back and forward between the two of them. Both of them watch, grinning from ear to ear, making the most of the paint on their faces as Marco beings to fall apart between them with little work of their own.
A slick sound follows and morphs into quick wet slaps. It sounds absolutely filthy and before Marco realises Jean has slathered his cock with lube or how badly he wants it, Jean removes his fingers and nudges his cock forward in its place. “I’ll have you seeing stars soon enough.” He’s already hard when he presses himself up against Marco, snaking his hands over his boyfriend’s hips. Matching Reiner’s persistent speed, Jean ruts against Marco’s ass and takes a moment to chuckle against Marco’s shoulder.
His chuckling continues when presses the ruffles of his baggy pants against Marco’s thighs as he pulls something from their pockets. Something rustles by Marco’s ear and next he knows there’s something colourful strung before his face. Delicate and soft, it runs its way across his shoulder then up around his head. Marco’s eyes focus, squinting at the square pieces of colourful silk Jean hangs before his eyes. “Is that what I think it is?” he asks with breathy laughs, noticing the gold stars that embroid the long scarf.
Jean quickly wraps the scarf around Marco’s face, covering his eyes and securing the makeshift blindfold behind Marco’s head. Pushing his blue lips against Marco’s neck and with his voice full of cheek, Jean jokes, “I told you you’d see stars.” Marco’s vision becomes partially blurred by what he assumes is a magician’s scarf around his head and over his shoulder. It’s the only thing he’s wearing in comparison to the fully dressed clown of a boyfriend that stands behind him with his dick out.
Marco scoffs and shakes his head. “I look ridiculous, Jean.” The rhythm of his hips becomes awkward and jagged, trying to wiggle out of the scarf, and laughing at Jean’s hilariously awful sense of humour. “Do you think it suits me?” His hands leave the warmth of Reiner’s body, ready to move the fabric obscuring his view, but Marco can’t bear to let go. His fingers return back to their position as he wonders how he must look like this, the scarf starting to loosen and slip down his nose with every thrust. He curses beneath his breath with a smile, choked laughter rattling through his chest now that he can see again.
Despite Jean’s attempts to fix it back into position, hands grabbing over his body in passing, the scarf falls away, unable to stay over Marco’s eyes. It drapes down over Marco’s chest and hangs between his legs. Marco feels ridiculous like this, wearing a scarf, rolling his hips, and thrusting his cock into Reiner’s ass as Jean presses up against his, but he has to admit that he loves every second of it.
Jean’s teasing hits Marco in such a way that all tension in his body just falls away. It feels freeing to listen to the moans of men outside now that he’s adding them with Reiner’s and his own. He can’t help wondering what this would all look if he wasn’t the odd one out, if he was wearing some kind of costume too.
His mind wanders to the thought of baggy pants and a billowing shirt of brilliant blue and green. Decorated with stripes and diamonds, he would positively shine, free to laugh and joke and make all the ridiculous actions Jean has done so far. His face paint would provide a mask, enhancing every feature while also hiding every detail, providing anonymity, a mask to wear to free himself of inhibitions. He can’t help but wish he was truly part of it all and dressed up himself.
He’s snapped out of his daydream by Jean’s laughing and whispering, “Now you see him, now you don’t,” as he clasps a hand over Marco’s eyes and slowly presses his cock into his ass. “No one else can see you come completely undone.” He waits, teasing Marco with just the tip of his cock, and when Marco presses back wantonly, hissing and moaning, Jean obliges him more.
“J-Jean, I want to see,” Marco begs, trying to hurry Jean’s movement and instead groans at the way Reiner clenches around his dick. Jean laughs louder this time and humps in short bursts to tease Marco more. The two of them working together may very well undo him. “Stop clowning around.” His voice is reduced to little more than a growl as he grits his teeth, enjoying it far more than he would dare to admit. Resisting him like this, giving in to the shame of it, makes everything hotter.
Pushing in further, spreading Marco apart and making sure Marco can feel all of his cock, Jean grins against Marco’s neck. “It’s part of the job.” His hand grabs Marco’s hair and tilts his head forward to watch his cock, glistening in a mixture of precum and lube, thrusting in off-beat as Jean takes to thrusting within him.
Reiner grunts loudly in his satisfaction, smirking and glancing over his shoulder to make sure Marco knows how much he enjoys every inch of him. The way his brows rise and lips part when Marco sinks in with a low moan makes Marco crave for more. “I think we need a change, yeah?” Reiner asks when he leans forward and lets Marco slide out with a whine. The missing heat and sensation for a moment leaves Marco feeling off until Jean thrusts in deep to fill the void.
Without falling flat on his face, Reiner leans forward into a tumble roll and rights himself up to sit on the floor, one knee popped off the ground. Cock poking out of his shorts and grinning, he appears like ‘The Thinker’ made flesh when he props his elbow on his knee to support his head. Marco gulps at the new realisation that Reiner entirely plans to sit there and watch.
“Okay,” Jean agrees with Reiner over Marco’s shoulder. His hands take to Marco’s hips just as Marco starts to clench and move, wanting desperately for the sensation he had lost. Eyes closed in his bliss, he finds himself unable to move his arms. Jean’s thrusts increase in tempo, wracking Marco’s body until his back arches and his knees bend. Through ragged breaths, Jean growls “Let me just…” with a sense of finality.
He grunts and thrusts harder, fingers digging into Marco’s sides, forehead pressed against Marco’s neck as he focuses solely on fucking him into oblivion. Marco feels the peak of his pleasure approaching, coiling down deep, waiting for the very last moment that might send him over the edge. He holds his breath, desperate, wanting, ready to come and hoping to come hard enough to splatter Reiner’s face from where he stands right now.
Just as he feels it coming, almost, just about there, Jean slips out and Marco just about cries in anguish at how empty he feels. His body jolts at the touch of Jean’s hand gripping onto his shoulder. It’s warm against his skin, and deeply wanting so much more, Marco can barely move. He shivers when Jean’s amused tone reaches his ear, “I’m good. You were saying?”
Reiner’s brows raise with the corner of his mouth, patting the mat beneath him. “I was thinking that you two could take me.” His eyes pass between Marco and Jean, a delectable sense of mischief glinting beneath that heavy brow. Licking his lips, he motions for Jean to approach him. Even on the floor he is an exemplary masculine specimen. Marco can’t help his eyes lingering over every part of him and memorising the shape of new muscles he hasn’t noticed before.
Jean’s steps are controlled, strong, somehow still put together and looking unfazed despite having just nearly fucked Marco to orgasm. He leaves Marco standing there, mouth agape and eyes unfocused, to make his way to Reiner. His colleague moves to his knees on the mat; an unspoken agreement seems to pass between their eyes that Marco can’t quite understand. It all seems to click when Reiner moves forward further and Jean sinks to the mat behind him.
They shuffle awkwardly into position, Jean manoeuvring himself, slipping his legs underneath as Reiner widens his stance. Sauntering backwards, Reiner moves his hips to rub his ass against Jean’s cock, still hard and wet from his stint with Marco. The paint on Reiner’s face only seems to heighten his grin when Marco catches his eye.
It's odd but hot to see a Reiner in his tight shorts and suspenders above Jean fully dressed in white, both putting on a show for him. Balanced by the strength of his legs alone, Reiner hovers over Jean’s cock, rubbing himself against it, over it, from his ass to his own erection. Marco wonders how long Reiner would last if he wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and pumped him hard.
As soon as Marco makes a step towards him, enthralled by the image he sees, Reiner sinks down onto Jean's cock with his hands gripping his knees. Marco has to pause to watch the way Jean's eyes roll into the back of his head and Reiner's chest heaves at the feeling. Without a hint of hesitation, Jean grips Reiner's hips and encourages him to move, holding his head up to smirk at Marco despite the waves of pleasure. Reiner's groans are deep, loud, and thoroughly filthy, and Marco hurries over, barely able to resist falling to his knees to take Reiner deep into his mouth. Instead he kneels before them to watch.
Happy with Reiner's movements, Jean moves his hands back to prop himself up. He watches Reiner roll his hips into him, arching his back every time it hits the sweet spot. Pleased with himself, Jean hums and moans with a smile, letting Reiner have his way. His hips buck in time, bringing out more grunts and moans from both of them. It's mesmerising to watch them enjoy each other, slick sounds punctuating every time they come together.
Reiner looks up at Marco when he palms over his cock and squeezes at his own straining thighs with the other hand. "Didn’t think we’d make you watch, did you?” His hand slides down his thigh, slapping it loudly with a crude smirk on his face. With a nod, he encourages Marco to move closer, and Marco does, stepping forward and dropping to his knees between Jean’s splayed legs.
Biting his lip, Marco lets his hands settle on Reiner’s thighs, helping to guide them further apart. He hums in curiosity, too distracted to say much else with the sight of Jean’s cock thrusting repeating into Reiner’s muscular ass. Reiner’s hand slips down from his thighs slowly for his benefit and brushes against Marco’s hand. Adding a satisfied groan to the air, he begins to lewdly finger himself, directing a suggestive stare right at Marco. “Join us.”
Marco rubs himself ready again and passes checking glances between the clowns before him. Despite their moans and their rolling hips, both of them watch him with a growing impatience. Jean reaches his hand into yet another hidden pocket in the loose fabric of his white pants and produces a spare packet of lube. Jean’s words roll off his tongue, rich and syrupy and going straight to Marco’s dick. “Better hurry. Reiner’s never been patient when he wants to come.”
Marco can never resist when Jean gets blunt. He takes the packet, tears it in his hands, and slathers Reiner’s fingers and his own cock with more lube. Some of it drips down his thighs, adding more the mess they are creating. Edging forward, Marco can feel the anticipation building in him, watching Reiner’s fingers stretching himself ready, finger by finger, lube dripping down. Jean’s thrusts run ragged beside them. Together their mess of a rhythm only makes Marco want to be more a part of it. The longer the waits, the more his skin feels like it’s itching and the harder he feels.
At Reiner’s nod, Marco presses himself up against Reiner’s fingers. They slip out and, much to Marco’s surprise, take hold of his cock with a firm grip. With a light tug, he guides Marco slowly in, inch by excruciatingly slow inch. Reiner hums and pauses every movement to watch the second cock working its way into him. Jean winks from behind him, his own fingers digging into Reiner’s shoulders, desperately holding on to watch as Marco begins to rub his cock against his own.
Marco bites into his lip, taking a deep long breath with every movement forward, delighting in every sharp inhale Reiner takes with him. He’s stretched by the both of them and grinning like he has some kind of trick up his nonexistent sleeves. He challenges Marco to move with a quirk of his eyebrows. It’s different seeing Reiner’s chiseled face while Marco fucks him with slow careful movements. The strongman’s eyes roam shamelessly over Marco’s body and Marco can’t remember the last time this same thrill has coursed through his veins.
He’s never dared to imagine he would be here, on his knees, balls deep in this muscular man’s ass, feeling every inch of Jean’s cock beside his. Jean lets him move first, letting all of them adjust to their new position. He doesn’t for a second let go of Reiner’s shoulders nor does he let the smile drop from his face, as if the face paint itself had fixed that devious smile permanently in place.
Reiner leans back to rest against Jean’s chest, slowly pushing Jean down against the mat and straining the muscles in his thighs. Jean relents beneath the pressure with a sigh and parts his lips and rolls his eyes back into his head when Reiner rolls his hips. Together, they fall back and expose themselves beneath Marco, necks bared as if presenting themselves, and they contort and melt at each other’s touch. Marco falls on top of Reiner, his hands catching himself on his sweat-drenched chest, tangling in his blond patch of chest hair.
Marco feels a tingling shudder through his body when he lets out a low moan. Feeling Jean’s cock next to his, bare skin and slick heat meeting thrust after thrust, building between breaths and groans, is enough to undo him. He can feel how easily he's being fucked in that direction and he loves every minute of it.
“I can take both you and your boyfriend,” Reiner gloats, lips form into a crooked smirk. “There’s no need to be so slow.” His large hand works it's way down Marco’s side and grabs onto Marco’s ass, pulling him closer to bring him in deeper. Marco gasps and moans in approval. “I’m sure we can all be louder than this.”
Marco’s hips buck at Reiner’s jest and pause when Reiner's large hand reaches up and squeezes his nose affectionately with a deep breath of laughter. Marco cracks a smile and lets himself feel and see and smell everything - the sweat running down his back, the muscles in Jean's legs that tense with every movement, the look of pleasure and frustration on Jean's face. Marco will be forever grateful for being dragged into this in the first place and then willingly jumping in again head first.
Reiner, too, stops in place, lazily gazing behind him and before him, taking in the sights of Marco's bare chest and Jean's sweat-slicked costume, slowly growing less opaque as its white fabric sticks to his skin. Frustrated by the sudden pause, Jean curses beneath him, “I can’t move with both of you on me. Ride me already.”
Reiner immediately spurs into action, pushing himself up off Jean's chest and rolling his hips, holding himself up with his thighs and bouncing on Jean's dick like he was more toy than man. “Like this?” he roars with laughter. His joy at his actions only turns Marco on more. The complete abandon of decorum makes for a welcome sight, as much of a show of strength as it is a game. Marco can only struggle to keep his own dick inside him and not come at the sight alone.
“Ahh-hhhhnng,” Jean whines beneath them both, his voice shaking as it grows louder. “Fuck, yes!" Jean almost sounds angry. It hits somewhere deep in Marco, a place he didn’t know was there, a place that likes to hear Jean’s voice broken and croaking and gasping for air, but most of all the fierceness still in his voice. “You too, Marco," he demands and forcefully grabs for Marco's attention.
Marco finds himself captive to Reiner’s movements, struggling to move his hips in time but finding waves of pleasure regardless of how he moves. The sound of skin slapping against skin as the man has his way with the both of them at once only makes his cock harder. Marco isn't sure how much longer he can last like this, feeling how hard Jean is and how stretched and wet and hot Reiner is around them.
Reiner slaps his dick against his stomach between rolls of his hips, his laughter mixing into his moans and his moans into laughter. When he begins to stroke over his cock, thumbing over his slit and smearing pre-come, Marco decides to take up on Reiner’s word, on how they can be louder than this, and knocks Reiner’s hand away.
Marco wraps his fingers around Reiner's thick cock and takes a firm hold. The strongman’s bouncing never stops and he rubs himself through Marco's fingers with even louder groans, huffing air through his teeth liking he's trying not to come there and then.
Like the beat of a heavy drum, Marco strokes him with a relentless steady rhythm in quick, strong movements. It's the only thing Marco can manage to keep in time. Though he might not be able to suck Reiner dry like this, Marco can still bring the man to his breaking point, fuck him and jack him off until he comes all over his own stomach, all while wearing those shorts. That will be enough.
“Like that, yes!” Reiner growls, hands grabbing for anything in reach, finding Jean’s thighs, squeezing and drawing a shudder from Jean beneath him. He presses down in a change of motion and rolls his hips. He then leans back against Jean's chest, letting Marco work the hardest to gain friction between the three of them.
Reiner wraps one hand over Marco's like a vice and pulls him into a faster pace up and down his dick. Impatient for his release, he uses Marco's hand in rough, fast strokes, the calluses of his hands only making it rougher. He loses himself to the sound of his own grunts and moans, unable to form words with two cocks sinking into him over and over and over again.
Jean whines and arches beneath them. He struggles to buck his hips, too exhausted from the effort, too distracted by the pleasure to move much at all. His heavy breathing dissolves into a series of quiet laughs as if he can't believe his luck. Needy and making little more than huffed laughter, Jean ruts up as fast as he can manage. He too is so very close to coming.
Marco feels the heat in him grow, the tightness coiling in his stomach, and the colour behind his eyelids starts to appear. The noises in the room around him fade to the feel of sweat on his brow and at his hands. Their laughter and groaning fill his senses, drowning out anything not touching him, anything not drumming through his body. All he can feel is the wash of pleasure over him as colour behind his eyes bursts into being.
Brilliant blue and green swirl around him, a costume of stripes and diamonds, glowing and pulsing in time with Marco’s heartbeat. It grows lighter as the pressure in him grows, as he can feel the peak approaching. White light beams from the far end of the tightrope, signalling the bliss to come. With every deep breath he takes in he moves forward, step by step, pausing when he needs to hold his breath again and simply feel the building pressure.
He stumbles on the tightrope, veering left and veering right, the ground below blurred in a mixture of orange and yellow. The white swarms in his vision and the tent of red around them is faded in the light. It grows brighter and brighter, higher and higher, building up until Marco can't be sure that he's breathing anything more than light itself.
All he can feel is Jean and Reiner. They're hot, wet, and firm, pressed against each other, pressing up against him. He blinks his eyes open briefly to capture an image of them again and immediately catches his boyfriend's eyes, who thrusts with a grunt into Reiner’s ass. Marco follows in kind, tipping Reiner over the edge.
Reiner's whole body tenses for a moment and Marco thinks he can make out muscles he's never seen before. The groan he releases sets a shiver down Marco's spine and he knows he can't close his eyes while a show like this goes on. His eyes linger on the sight before him, a six foot muscle bound man in tiny colourful shorts gyrating his hips and bucking out his orgasm while bringing Marco closer to his.
Marco removes his hand from Reiner’s cock to grab onto Reiner's hips instead, fucking him through every second of it, and lets him come over his own stomach in long, thick bursts. Cum splatters and coats those rock hard abs of his, falling into the details in his muscle. His dick still holds firm despite how spent Reiner looks, despite how relaxed his body becomes, and despite how much he grins.
Over Reiner's shoulder, Marco can make out Jean throwing back his head, hands now dropped to his sides to grab helplessly onto the mat beneath him. Marco struggles to hold on when he watches Jean bite his lip and immediately slacken his jaw at the shaking of his body. A long stream of obscenities follow, mixing with the sounds of other joyful experiences outside. He tries his best to sound out their names but they’re lost to the wave.
Marco bucks at first at the sensation of Jean's cum meeting his thrusts. Thrown forward onto Reiner's chest, his hands catch him. With one hand keeping him balanced, the other drags across the thick muscle of the strongman's chest, smearing cum further down his body. He leads the stickiness down to Reiner’s shorts and takes hold, letting the wave finally wash over him.
He bucks once, twice, and once again with a choked moan. His head snaps back and he lets the shudder rock his body until he's spent every last drop inside Reiner. When his breath finally catches up with him, he heaves and coughs until his lungs remember how to take in air.
When it's over, he slumps and Reiner's large hand catches him. His energy is almost completely gone with the afterglow of colours lingering in his head, making him feel light and heavy and weak all at once. He can feel the way he slides out and is cradled gently onto the soft, cool surface of the mat.
Reiner grunts when he gets up and quickly offers Jean a hand to help him up too. They tower over Marco, marble statues made flesh, and for a second Marco has to bless the sight he sees. Reiner tucks himself back into his tight shorts, perhaps containing some magic that allows him to hide every inch. Jean's costume, however, sticks to his skin, though the white is considerably less white than Marco remembers. His cock is hidden behind the frill of the pants again, as if he had never fucked Marco and Reiner at all.
"You did so well," Reiner praises and bends over to pull Marco up with both of his hands. Marco is a pawn in his grip, soon up on his feet like he weighs nothing at all. "It's been fun." Reiner's lips press against the damp hair on his forehead in a gentle touch before his hand ruffles Marco's hair. He's suddenly aware of just how sweaty he is, how all of them are, and how much the room smells of it.
Marco sighs, exhausted and relieved and so incredibly blissed out that he would happily sleep right here in the nude if they let him. Thankfully Jean catches him before he stumbles to the floor, wraps him in a towel, and tucks himself under Marco's arm to support him. "Let's get you washed up, hmmm?" Jean suggests, leading him out of the room and nodding to Reiner behind him.
The feeling of deja vu washes over Marco, once again being led to the showers. The sound of men groaning and moaning and laughing blends seamlessly together around them as they work their way through. He can barely catch glimpses of how the other men are entertaining themselves with how heavy his eyelids feel.
The showers themselves echo with their footsteps. Water runs down Marco's body like a warm and welcome caress. It cleanses him of their own entertainment but he would swear he can still detect the smell of sex in the air and some of it on him. Jean joins him, lathering both their bodies with foam and scrubbing them clean. His face paint runs down his face and smears across his chest until he rubs it completely away. Marco has almost gotten so used to seeing it there that he's a little sad to see it go.
Jean takes it upon himself to dry Marco as well, ruffling his hair and rubbing him over until he's completely warm and all drops of water are gone from his skin. "All fresh and clean," Jean announces and slaps Marco on the ass. Completely removed from his costume and makeup, Jean appears so ordinary. Marco can't believe he actually misses seeing Jean all dressed up, and quietly suspects he might need to see it again some time in the future. For now, he can appreciate how handsome his boyfriend is, standing beside him and dressing himself in civilian clothes.
"All thanks to you." Marco grabs his clothes and slips them back on. They stick to his slightly damp skin but it feels comforting to be clothed again, even if he was getting used to being naked. “It was... I... just..." Marco's words disappear somewhere out of reach when he tries to go over every moment of the last however long he's been here. He's completely lost track of time.
Jean simply chuckles and drapes an arm over Marco's shoulder. "Let's get you out of here, hmm? I'm pretty sure you have studying you need to catch up on." His laugh is light and soft, nothing like what it is when he puts on the show. Marco can't help but smile. He's seen both sides to his boyfriend now, intimately.
Marco stares as they make their way out. The noises never seem to change in this place, a constant stream of new men come in to replace the ones that leave, and they certainly never seem short on clowns to entertain them. Yet here he is with Jean guiding him towards the front desk. He can already feel himself missing it as they find themselves near the front door.
"It sounded like you had fun," the man behind the desk chirps up and tilts back his hat. His face paint looks as bright as when Marco entered earlier. "And you looked completely fucked." He gestures over Marco with a curl of his wrist and turns his gaze to Jean. "There's just the matter of... payment?"
Jean nods and casts a glance down the hall. Curious as to where his eyes are looking, Marco squints over Jean's shoulder and can just make out Mr. Smith standing amongst the patrons, staring directly back at him. "Mr. Smith has told you that I'll be paying the fee." Jean's boss turns back to his clients and tips his hat as if he had never looked their way at all. Jean takes his turn to cast a look at Marco. "I'll be paying both of them."
Marco almost chokes as he tries to decline. It had been all his idea and he should be the one to pay for everything, even if Jean put everything together. Jean simply shakes his head and silences Marco with a glance. "No, no, please let me." Jean smiles and bumps himself against Marco's shoulder. "Consider it a gift."
The man behind the desk shrugs and leans back against his chair. He props his feet up on the desk and hums to himself, amused by the two of them. It only spurs Marco to refuse the offer. "I can't accept this, Jean. Please."
Jean assesses him and once again Marco feels completely naked before him. He has a way of knowing exactly how to size him up. It would be unnerving if Marco didn't find it so hot. "But I'm the one that got you hooked." Jean's face breaks in laughter; his original serious look turns into one of mockery, a cheeky smirk tugging at his lips.
"Stop clowning around," Marco retorts but the words come out of his mouth half-hearted, not wanting Jean to stop at all. He wanted so desperately to come back here, still wants to come back here, but with college to take care of, he can hardly afford to pay for his indulgences. He hasn't even stopped to think about that.
Despite the look of disbelief on Marco's face, Jean's smile holds firm. "It's the end of my shift, Marco. I already have." He chuckles again even when Marco's jaw drops open and he shakes his head. Jean simply shrugs and starts pushing him towards the door.
"Well, that's settled. Jean will pay the account," the receptionist says while he jumps up from his chair, tumbles over the desk, and holds the door open for them. "I'll see both of you later. I'm sure of it." Marco doesn't see his face when they walk out, too distracted by Jean's strong hold on him. He finally looks back when they start the walk home and the last thing Marco sees before they leave is the smirk of a clown and the bowtie insignia upon the closing door.