The salt and butter of popcorn filled the air. Raucous cheers filled the lot. And there in the middle, anchoring the chaos, there stood the tent. A gaudy affair of gold and scarlet sweeping into the sky.
Damian walked the dirt path, focused on the tent. He weaved through the crowd, jostled past when they blocked him. All roads in the circus led there, straight to the tent, and no amount of fair food or rigged games of skill would distract him.
Around the tent, the crowd thinned, the show still an hour from starting. But Damian hardly cared about seeing the show again. He'd been yesterday. How much would change?
A burly woman put a hand on his shoulder as he approached the entrance. "Sorry. They're still setting up."
"Nikolai sent me." He showed her the black padded glove he'd gotten.
After a moment, the woman nodded. "Head back then. But don't tire him out too much."
Damian rushed past her before shame heated his cheeks. In the dark of the tent, he hoped it wasn't noticeable. Workers strung up the trapeze, hung bunting around the bleachers. It looked almost like it had the day before. Just a little more disheveled.
"Damian." A thick, liquid voice drew his attention around. He looked over his shoulder and saw the broad, bare chest, the slim waist, the bulge of a package hardly concealed by tight, striped shorts. Nikolai came up and grabbed his hand, dragged him away. "We don't have long."
They wove through other performers, clowns and jugglers and highwire walkers, and darted behind a stack of boxes. Nikolai smiled at him, brilliantly white teeth. "Ready?"
"How often do you do this?"
"As much as I can." He dropped his shorts, unleashing his semi-hard cock. "So I've got lots of practice."
Damian only hesitated a second before stripping off his shirt and pants, standing naked in front of the Cyr wheel artist. Nikolai went straight to work, kneeling, his lips tight around Damian's shaft. He wrapped a hand around his own dick and pumped, matching the rhythm of his mouth to his hand.
So much heat. Damian's knees threatened to buckle after just a few minutes. He felt light-headed, and not just because of the frenzy of the circus. The wet heat around his cock, the slight grunting from Nikolai, the slap of skin on skin as he pumped faster on his own shaft. Sweat beaded on Damian's forehead, dripped down his nose.
The pressure built and built until, finally, it surged out of Damian's cock. He leaned his back against the boxes to keep from falling. One hit, two, three, four, five before his ecstasy abated.
Nikolai rose and nodded, still hard as steel. "It'll be better next time."
He slipped the shorts back on. Now they really didn't hide anything. "Tonight, after the show." He slapped a hard palm against Damian's bare ass cheek. "Don't disappoint me."
"Don't disappoint me."
Nikolai smiled again. "Doubtful."