Elsa has saved me. She rescued me from a life where I was just a pet; supposed to cater to the humours of drunks and perverts. The gash across the bridge of my nose still hurts, bleeding through the band-aid Elsa gave me. A tear betrays me as it rolls down my cheek. Not one out of sadness but one of happiness and tension.
“Wipe your tears, mein Leibe. You want to make a good impression.” I wipe my eyes and look up, the stripes of the big top stretching before me. Posters with large, painted performers are presented down the carpet, toward the entrance to the big tent. The car screeches to a stop and Elsa steps out. I take a second to marvel at what a ghost town this is. What have I gotten myself into?
She leads me into the big top, where music flows like blood through my veins.
“And I swear that I don't have a gun. No, I don’t have a gun...” The words echo across the vinyl as I lay my eyes upon the singer. Brunette locks fall about his face as he makes love to that microphone. “No, I don’t have a gun... No, I don’t have a gun...” I can only stare in awe. “No, I don’t have a gun... No, I don’t have a gun...“ The music number is over and the spell is broken.
“My children! We have a new member to our family.” My ears twitch as she pushes me forward. “May I introduce you to Eliott Ortiz.” I hold up my hand and wave as they descend from the stage. The boy from the stage is the first to come up and take my hand in his...lobster-like claws.
“Welcome to the show, Eliott. Just call me Jimmy.” He smiles, broadly, and I’m lost in it for a moment. His dark, dark eyes bear into me and then he steps back.
“Paul. Nice to meet you.” The tattooed man takes my hand in a, surprisingly, firm grip.
“You, too.” Is all I manage.
“Eve.” The tall, tall, tall woman introduces herself, nodding.
“I am Ma Petité.” A tiny, little lady approaches me in full Indian garments. I take her tiny hand in mine, shaking it, delicately.
“I’m sure you’ll settle in fast, mein Hündin...” I hear Elsa mutter as she walks out to have a cigarette.
The next few weeks are dedicated to perfecting my act; Jimmy warns the crowd of my — fictional — violent tendencies and then I rush him, on-stage, we do a little choreographed fight. I howl to the sky before he manages to pin me down and restrain me, petting my ears and feeding me ‘dog biscuits’ (just normal shortbread, dusted with confectioners’ sugar to make it look more unnaturally white). But Jimmy and I? We’ve gotten close. He’s taken to calling me Eli, a nickname I had when I used to live with my folks. But...it means...something when he says it. When the others say it. Eli doesn’t mean ‘freak’ or ‘monster’, anymore. Instead, Eli means ‘friend’ or ‘buddy’.
There’s been something so inherently...hot about the tent, today. As I go to leap on-stage, I’m sweating bucket loads and I’m looking at Jimmy’s crotch like a complete pervert.
“I must warn you, dear audience, not to move as he may...ATTACK!” I pounce on him, giving him my best roar. Pressed to the boards of the stage, Jimmy wonders why I haven’t started our choreography. “Eli!” He whispers under his breath. I take a deep breath and go for his neck, just like in the act. He gets me by the neck and throws me off. His claws crush my windpipe for a little over a second and I’m stupified, blood rushing downwards as I land on the boards. He mounts me, this time, as Elsa watches on. He looks down at the raging hard-on that’s poking at his ribs. Elsa doesn’t seem to be paying much attention so Jimmy takes his opening. “Okay, take a break, Eli.” He announces before we slip out the back.
The sunlight is blinding, beating down upon my neck as he pulls me to one side.
“You okay, Eli? You don’t usually...pop boners like that.” He asks, a worried look on his face, as he holds a hand to my sweat-drenched forehead. I smile and cock my head to the side. He seems to fall at ease. I grab him by his worn, shirt collar and press my lips to his. He’s frozen for a moment before he buries his hands in my flaxen-coloured hair, his claw fingers scratching behind my ears and rubbing small circles, making my pulse race. A groan leaves him as I tug his hips closer by his belt loops, grinding against him. My lips go to his neck, kissing down the pale line of his throat as he holds me closer. God, Jimmy... “E-Eli...” He pants out through a rush of endorphins. I make a noise of acknowledgement. “My trailer. Now.” He takes me by the hand and we run, like criminals, to his trailer and he locks the door.
As soon as the door goes, he presses me into his mattress, one hand in my hair and the other snaking down to cup my growing erection. I tug off my bandana and my shirt, exposing my chest and he, practically, tears his shirt off, letting me shower his chest with teasing touches and small kisses. I shimmy out from under him and take my place, straddling his legs. I move down, unbuttoning and unzipping his blue jeans, tugging his cock out of his briefs. When he’s exposed to the scorching, humid air, he sighs, now, free of his constraints.
“Oh, fuck...” He groans out and I can only imagine how good I look as he rests his heavy cock against my face, pre-come leaking onto my cheek. He’s so long and so, so thick and, oh, my God, I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to fit him in my mouth or my ass. I lick up the underside of his cock and he hisses, hands fisting in the sheets below him. “Sweet fuckin’ Jesus...” He groans out as I take the head of his cock into my mouth, my tongue flicking at the slit in the head and my hands going to stroke at his shaft. My warm palms are only made so much warmer as I build up a relentless speed. “You keep going like that and this is gonna be over a lot faster than I’d like...” He groans out, hips bucking up. I don’t stop, though, my other hand going down to cup his balls, running my thumb over the taut skin.
“Come for me, Jimmy. I wanna taste you.” I sigh as I work his cock raw.
“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuuuuck...” He curses under his breath as he releases into my mouth. He shoots a Hell of a load, it starts coming out of my nose and I cough.
When he passes through the afterglow, he looks down, his claw fingers scratching behind my ear.
“Good... Good boy.” He breathes as I move up to kiss him. He tastes himself on my tongue, groaning when he grabs my ass and kneads the flesh. I pull back, breathing heavy.
“Jimmy... Do you...like me?” I ask and he nods, without hesitation.
“You’ve been here — what? — four weeks and we’re fuckin’ in my trailer. Sounds like it to me.” He chuckles with a wink and I smile. “I’ve never been with a guy before but I always thought they’d be more...demanding? Rough?”
“Oh, tough guy, I can be rough if you want me to.” I groan as I nip at his neck, shifting into his lap as his claws find my ass, again.
“But, no, Eli, we’re... You’re great and I think we can make a good go of this.” I smile, genuinely. There’s a bang on the door. It’s Eve.
“Show starts in thirty.” She yells and we get up from his mattress, peppering each other with kisses.