Fic: Let The Light In (The Eagle, AU), Chapter 8
Title: Let The Light In, Chapter 8
Pairing: Esca/Marcus
Rating: NC-17
Length: 8k
Warnings:
Summary: Esca's an acrobat, and he has an idea when he meets someone who used to dance in the show
A/N: There'll be a change of focus next chapter. This is end story arc #1 of 2. Thanks for the feedback, guys, it's hugely appreciated.
Fuck, it was good. Esca closed his eyes and stretched his head back, wallowing in the sensation of Marcus's body rutting up against him, all bed-warm and stinky. Thighs between his, Marcus's abundant muscular weight pushing him down into the bed. Mouth on his neck, chin covered in a night's regrowth. A hoarse croak into his ear, Spread your legs wider. Oh, ohyeah, ohh yeah. That big, blunt prick grinding against his, both of them slippery with precum, bellies sliding and crushing them closer, closer.
Waking up in bed with Marcus had mostly been a good thing, so far.
“Need more friction. Grab it.”
“What is with you and the grabbing of your things?” Esca skated a hand down between their hips, wrapping his hand around them both as best he could.
“Unh, that's good. You've got strong hands.” Marcus bit down on Esca's ear lobe, his breath coming fast and hot in Esca's ear. “From all the -”
“Wanking.”
A laugh into his neck, and then Marcus was kissing around his neck and his ear, making Esca squirm as he thrust upwards harder. “Acrobatics, whatever. Mm, yeah, exactly like that. Ohh, mmfh, I'm gonna, I'm gonna, oh, oh . . .”
“Already?”
“Close. I'm, ooh.”
Marcus started to lose his rhythm, his torso stiffening across Esca's, a needy gurgle escaping his throat as Esca locked his knees around Marcus's, pinched one of those flat brown nipples and tightened the grip of his other hand. “Come on, then, Mr. Speedy.”
“I need to, I need, oh God, ohGod.”
Marcus began to still, body quivering in Esca's hold on him, mouth open and anxious. Arse cheeks clenching against Esca's calf muscles. Cock swelling and pulsing in Esca's hand, and then Marcus was gasping into Esca's mouth, grunting, the whole long length of him surging against Esca with each spurt over Esca's prick. He grunted and convulsed with every drop Esca coaxed out of him, finally collapsing down onto Esca, face in Esca's neck with a happily fucked-out mumble.
“Oi.” Esca poked at one freckled shoulder. “Some of us aren't done.”
If it hadn't been for the considerable amount of attention his hard-on was currently demanding, he could've stayed like that awhile. Squished into the bed by a damp, floppy Marcus, who stank of BO, morning breath and cum. Deliciously. Nobody who smelled that bad should be so hot and exactly right, but Marcus managed it. Ridiculous, edible fucker that he was.
“Hey. I'm not finished yet, you lazy shite.”
“Mmhrm.”
“You what? C'mon, shift your bum.”
Marcus lifted his face out of Esca's neck, cheeks red, eyes bleary and blinking his way back into sensibility. “I said, I heard you. Give a guy a second. Okay, okay, I'm moving, jeesh.”
Esca finally succeeded in shoving Marcus off, rolling Marcus over onto his side of the bed then reaching down to grip his jizz-covered cock. Before, the idea of Marcus seeing him like this would've been mortifying to an unthinkable degree, but right from the start of all this, he'd actually been fine lying back and tugging one off with Marcus lying right there, watching him with those sleepy cat's eyes of his. More than fine. Marcus would watch every second, sometimes reaching out to touch or to encourage, to tickle or stroke stuff, sometimes to take over. Never had a simple hand shandy felt so easily carnal.
“Sit on me.”
“I'm busy.”
Marcus rolled flat onto his back, patting his naked belly and looking over at Esca expectantly. “No, listen. Straddle my stomach then shoot on my chest. That'd be kinda hot, right?”
“Yeah?” Esca's hand barely stopped moving as he frowned at Marcus. “You'd be okay with that?”
“Why wouldn't I be?”
“I might get you in the face. Entirely by accident, of course.”
“Oh, sure. By accident.” Marcus patted his stomach again. “Jump on. Saddle's waiting.”
“You're a stupid sod.” Esca laughed, pushing himself up to move across Marcus, who helped guide him into place, his hands pushing Esca's hips down until Esca's bum was nicely cushioned by a soft cock. “Fine, but I did warn you.”
His hand was brushed away by Marcus's, his prick gripped firmly, and Marcus started to undulate beneath Esca's hips, lifting him up and down an inch in a motion that fit perfectly with the tight, twisting fingers on his erection. Esca moaned in satisfaction, letting his head drop back, letting go with it and, fuck, it was So. Fucking. Good. It had been every time. Relaxed, and easy, easier than anything, increasing in intensity every second. Marcus's other hand was holding onto Esca's leg gently, barely even a grip on it, fingers shifting back and forth millimetres, and Esca briefly felt a horrible impulse to cover it with his own.
“You have a great body.” Marcus's eyes were all sleepy, dark slits looking up at him.
“Suppose so.” Esca was getting close enough to feel like yes, actually, it might be great, if Marcus thought so. “Would be nice if I possessed so much as an atom of melanin. Oh, ooh, that's - yes.”
“Feels good?”
“It does, so don't stop. Bit faster.”
Marcus pumped his hand, his grip never failing, perfectly tight. “First couple of times we met, I thought you were like this skinny little hipster douche. Then I walk into that studio and you're in your shorts, and it was like, bam! Skinny little hipster's secretly built. Gave me a semi.”
A swell of heat surfed through Esca's veins, throbbing through his balls and to the head of his prick. “Pocket Adonis, that's me.”
“It is.” Marcus tightened his fingers, chuckling when it made Esca's body jerk. “And, man, you in your costume, where it's all tight and all that skin and those feathery things . . .”
“My costume? Don't talk about the fucking show. Jesus Christ on a fucking bike,” A shrill tone was entering his voice, and Esca didn't care, screwing his eyes tighter closed and concentrating on how the movement of Marcus's hand was stoking the unfurling glow along the underside of his cock. “Keep it shut if you're not going to help.”
The hand working him had started to slow down, and Esca impatiently worked his hips back and forth, trying to get the speed back.
“I guess we don't have to talk about it, but you look pretty incredible, that's all.” Marcus had also stopped the up and down humping movement, but allowed his hand to match Esca's thrusts. “It's a compliment.”
“I'm five seconds from gagging you with an old sock if you don't shut your fat pie hole and let me come.”
“Fine, whatever. No biggie.”
Marcus fell silent, the slapping sound of his hand working Esca faster filling the room in place of words, Esca's breath harsh in his ears, his balls tightening, his back arching as his body took over and started to determinedly fuck Marcus's fist.
“When do I get to fuck you?”
“. . . W-what?”
Esca opened his eyes, his head falling forward, sweat-damp hair hanging in his eyes. He flicked it back to see Marcus still looking up at him, sleepiness gone, jaw in that determined set.
“I want to fuck you.”
“Shit. Ooh. Bugger.”
“Haven't stopped thinking about it since you said it.”
“Fuck, I'm close, don't, ohh . . .”
Marcus's hand tightened, the fingers of the other digging into Esca's thigh. “When? Tonight?”
It was burning through him, stinging, muscles climbing, toes curling, legs cramping. “Keep talking.”
“Yeah? I get to fuck you tonight?”
“Oh, fuck, shit, Marcus -”
His back flexed and Esca came, thrown back before his gut clenched with another hard spurt. He fell forward, grabbing onto Marcus's shoulders with both hands, every shot out onto Marcus's skin wrung out of him by every muscle in his body squeezing simultaneously in powerful spasms. It kept going, fuck, it wasn't stopping, and he whimpered with one last jolt.
“Seriously? You got it in my ear how?”
Esca had rolled off Marcus into a tangled, sweating mess of boneless limbs, but he forced his head up, starting to laugh as he caught sight of Marcus pulling a disgusted face, a finger exploring his ear canal. “Hoh, shit. Sorry.”
“Sure you are.” Marcus was grimacing at Esca's other cum-splats across his chest as he wiped his finger off on the bed. “Gross. And we need to wash these sheets today. Either that or burn them.”
“All that talk about fucking threw my aim off.” Esca sprawled on his stomach and buried his head in his pillow, cock smarting and over-sensitive against the bed. It was lovely. Everything was lovely. What a lovely come with lovely Marcus. “There's spare sheets in the cupboard. Go nuts.”
A foot knocked at his ankle. “I'm not your maid.”
“I know. Maids hoover once in a while.” He kicked back, but it had no strength to it and it ended up in some kind of foot snuggle, Marcus's toes stroking the underside of Esca's.
“Tonight?”
Esca buried his head deeper into his arms. “I said I didn't want to talk about the show.”
The toe caresses continued. “I wasn't talking about the show.”
Although he had no hope in hell of getting hard again for at least another twenty minutes, Esca's balls let out a little sizzle of approval as his arsehole clamped eagerly down on itself. “I thought that was just sexy talk to get me off.”
“Kinda. I mean, it was, but, y'know.”
“We'll be exhausted. And there's the party.”
“Fuck the party. Fuck exhaustion.” Marcus shifted until he was curled around half of Esca's body, stroking Esca's damp hair back in a way that felt blissful. “Fuck everything, and then fuck you, in the ass, in this bed.”
“Such language. Wash out your mouth.”
Esca rolled over to face Marcus, which was never a burden. Beautiful, serious, lovely Marcus, who moved to give Esca a sour, morning-breath kiss. It was faultless and slow, all nibbly and lots of lazy tongue. He was defenseless. Marcus was nuzzling his nose against Esca's, the warmth from his skin, his thumb rubbing along Esca's jaw as surprising as much as way too welcome. For a mostly-straight guy, Marcus was proving to be way more hands-on than Esca had expected. Hands and kisses only, so far, but it was a promising start.
“We'll be flying high after the show. It's the perfect time.”
“Will you stop talking about the fucking show already?”
“All that energy from the performance. It's got to go somewhere.”
“Christ, you don't listen, do you? I told you.” Afterglow gone, Esca pushed his way out from under Marcus's arm, sat up and swung his legs out of the bed, sudden anxiety making his throat burn. “It's not that I don't necessarily want to fuck, but I do not want to talk about tonight and you will not fucking listen to me, and you keep on and on about it. Fucking nightmare.”
Marcus rolled his eyes, “Here we go. Don't get in a piss.”
“Too late. I'm going to shower, alone.” Esca's indignant march of self-righteousness over to the bathroom was being ruined by the fact he was naked and covered in a drying mess of itching cum. Fucking Marcus. “Change the sheets and the subject by the time I'm finished.”
“Esca . . .”
It was impossible to slam the stupid sliding bathroom door, but Esca did his best, scowling at it when it bounced back halfway. So he grabbed it, pulling it back closed. Then locked it, which he didn't usually bother with. Hopefully Marcus would hear it and know what it meant.
“Don't. Just, don't, ignore it. Brush your fucking teeth.”
He started the shower running then squeezed out some toothpaste onto his toothbrush, switching it on and cramming it in his mouth all the while avoiding his reflection. Don't think about it. Think about something else. Anything else. New pants, had better shop. Flip-flops, too, now it was getting so hot. Could drop by the supplies store and get a stack of new exercise slippers, some without holes in. Some of his dance belts could do with replacing, although he'd have to wear his lucky one tonight, wherever the fuck he'd put it away from last time . . .
Esca spat out a mouthful of foam and wiped over his lips with the back of his hand, staring into the rapidly-steaming mirror, his panicky eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot.
“Fuck it. The show. The fucking show. Jesus fucking hell.”
His hands were shaking. For a moment, Esca thought he was going to cry. He dropped the brush in the sink and crouched, covering his face with his hands.
“It's fine. We're fine, it'll be fine, everything's going to be fine.”
Bollocks, was it. There was no escaping himself. It was tonight, the show, final technical dress with everyone watching. A theatre full of suits. Wings crammed with pairs of eyes, and the darkness waiting beneath willing him to lose balance. Tonight. Either way, from where Esca was crouched, it looked like he was screwed.
-
His lips were so grey with terror it was tough to figure out which bits needed more coverage. Esca sponged at them listlessly. After a day's vicious sniping, Marcus had retreated into a sullen silence over to his side of the dressing room, texting someone on his phone while resting his bad leg up, treating Esca to a sideways glance from under those eyebrows every time Esca ran to the sink to dry-heave a bit more until his stomach felt folded in half. Nothing left in there to throw up, or to shit, not after the day he'd had, nerves building every second. Esca took another look at himself from both sides, and thought a bit more about whether there was time enough to go out and find a bridge to jump off. Not many bridges in Vegas. Real, lethal ones, and queues for the Stratosphere would be insane this late.
“All cast and crew, five minutes till first curtain. Scene one beginners, please.”
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit fuck shit. Esca suppressed a whimper and sponged at his lips a bit more, while Marcus's reflection in his mirror frowned at him again, pursed his lips and started composing another text.
“You gonna stretch again anytime soon? You should let me help.”
“Piss off. You're as bad as Noz.” The idea of doing anything but sitting in this chair was like leaning over and looking directly down a cliff face.
“You're gonna injure yourself, then bitch about it. Awesome.”
“I have done all this circusy thing before, actually.”
Marcus sighed and swung his leg off his counter top. “Whatever.”
Twenty-five-ish minutes till their call to the stage, depending on how their audience of executives was responding. Marcus was correct and Esca knew it, but the big bugger was smugly stretching his body out now he'd unzipped the hoody and shrugged the sweats off, so Esca swallowed his panic down, played with the grey-green mottling around his mouth some more and watched Marcus's reflection instead, because that was the one thing that might help him relax.
Marcus's only costume of note was translucent bark-patterned tights and a dance belt, everything else air-brushed directly onto his skin and his knotted hair all tufted up like shards of old wood. He looked ancient and colossal, skin and muscle rippling under the golds and browns of the spray paint. All the puppyish pads of cushiony fat of before had gone. Esca almost missed them, some days, but he had to admit Marcus looked staggering without. If Mario had wanted a show about sex, they should've simply stuck Marcus in his see-through tights out there centre centre and left a spot on him. Esca fought not to tilt his head for a better view as Marcus pulled his bad leg up against the wall to stretch out his hams, the padded bulge of his balls an inviting curve within easy reach.
“Y'know what might distract you from your little case of whatever the hell this has been today? It would definitely qualify as a warm-up.”
There was a smile in Marcus's voice. Esca dragged his eyes and mind away from Marcus's nuts to see that Marcus had caught Esca eyeing up his package, almost slavering down his chin.
“You're out of your tiny mind.”
“Might help you chill. I've seen how you are afterwards.” Marcus quit stretching and placed his hands on Esca's shoulders, fingers stroking at the leafy feathers covering them. “Plus, man, this costume does it for me like I can't even tell you.”
“No. Micah would go batshit if either of us got messed up.”
Marcus plucked at a feather, his mouth lifting and a dimple appearing briefly when Esca shook his hand off. “Think about it. The whole auditorium watching us, and they wouldn't have a clue that I came in your mouth minutes before.”
“My mouth?” Esca went back to adjusting his make up. “I thought this was about getting me to relax.”
“Oh, come on. I thought you liked that.”
“I don't exactly hate it if someone decides to give me a nosh, either. You offering?” Marcus's reflection frowned, breaking off eye contact and staring down at where his fingers and thumb were still playing with one of Esca's feathers. “Yeah. Didn't think so. So, thanks, but you go back to your stretching like a good boy.”
A pause, and Marcus let go of the feather, stepping away, grabbing his banana and water bottle. “Can do. I'll move it into the hallway, give you some space.”
“I'm sure I can handle your absence somehow.”
Marcus hesitated at the door, fingers grasping its handle without opening it. “Anyone ever tell you you're a delight to work with?”
“People whose opinions matter to me.”
“That's great, Esca. I'll see you in the wings. Break a goddamn leg.”
The door to their small dressing room slammed behind Marcus, someone next door laughing, perhaps in response. Esca looked at himself in the mirror, wound too tight to call himself a cock like he probably should. The latex headpiece, sweeping up and off his forehead like a pale green flame was holding, no matter how much sweat was already building up beneath. His own air-brushing moved in and out of greys, greens and whites, mossy and like he was fading in and out of shadows, the feathers on his shoulders echoed down his back and along his eyebrows, over where his ears were tucked away. He looked nakedly delicate and unreal, able to be carried off on a breeze, his eyes ringed with darker, richer green smudges and curving lines that made them look huge in his pale, starkly-shadowed face, his mouth almost disappearing. Maybe Marcus sometimes wished it would.
“Look at you, you fancy fairy shite. Junior Olympic squad? No, not me.” Esca took one last look then cricked his neck out, knowing he'd left it too late for enough of a thorough warm-up and how he'd pay for it in the coming days. “Run away and join the circus, because why the fuck not? Eh? How to make your dad proud in one dainty step.”
His reflection gazed back at him, all eyes and cheekbones without the ears distracting from everything. Almost pretty. Not nearly close enough.
“All cast and crew, this is DSM confirming curtain up. Scene two beginners, please.”
Esca's fingers gripped the side of the sink so tightly they ached as he watched the water swirling a mouthful of claggy saliva down the drain. Look at that. Apparently he wasn't quite done puking yet. Yay.
-
Climbing required leg muscles. He didn't have any, Esca was sure of it. He was dizzy from lack of oxygen, chest too tight to breathe as he waited upper stage right, the scissor lift he was standing on quivering from where he was shaking so violently. Already he seemed too high up, Marcus metres below him hidden in the bowels of the stage, the both of them waiting for the music cue and for their set to slide effortlessly up and into place. This was too big and he was too high up, and he was going to fall. Falls happened. Not all the time, but once would be enough. He was going to die. He was dying, heart sprinting, lungs frozen.
Ba-Dum.
The first pulsing of the heartbeat. A near-silent whirring in the darkness was the only signal he had that the huge, raked forest set was spinning up out of the stage into place, carrying Marcus with it.
Ba-Dum. Ba-Dum.
A faint brown-purple glow started to appear as lights faded up, and Esca looked over his shoulder to where the stage hand was waiting for a cue, finger held up. This was it. Armageddon. The end of the fucking world as he knew it. The live singers started their wailing, harmonious and shattering. He wanted to weep. No time left. The finger came down as he was given the nod. Esca reached out to take his first handholds on the forest they'd built for him to explore, and finally, finally breathed out the last of his panic.
Performances had never become an automatic thing. He could feel every different audience out there like it was some pulsing, hungry mass, waiting to devour and to suck everything he had into itself, giving just as much back. Every show he'd ever done had been the same - holding it back during rehearsals, too cautious and far too anxious, then the massed energy of the audience would hit him and fill him up, unconsciously forcing Esca into more extreme stretches. His balances became more daring, every part of him fighting for then hitting that perfect note time and time again, lifted and held aloft by the breath and the focus of them all. His small but notable reputation had been built on how bright he'd shine every time he performed live, and thank holy fucking lord of all Gods it didn't look like today going to be the day that reputation was shattered.
Some of the performers would say timed slowed down during a performance, for them, but for Esca it always flew. Bridge kickover onto his first stump. Shoulders down, boost up from the quads into a split leap to the next, turning into an immediate standing back handspring downwards over the gap and onto another and earning himself a huge gasp, a ripple of applause that swept around him. Now into a two-handed balance leaning backwards until he found his footing, twisting himself upward and then searching down, picking his way through the trees in a cascade of speedy one-handed balances like it was his private playhouse. It went too fast, and he couldn't stop smiling. Just as well the role called for it. He could feel the audience allowing itself to be charmed, and he loved them for it, loved every heart in that big, breathing monster out there because it was falling in love with him.
Oh. Crap, yes. Marcus in the tree. Esca had been having so much fun he'd almost forgotten, his body automatically leading him down there. He plucked the first bit of bark away and blew it out of the palm of his hand with his magic, the accompanying glissando of chimes from the band's huge flying cradle making him laugh almost as much as it had the first time he'd heard it. Fucking Canadian hippies and their tinkly bells. Whatever, his imp was supposed to be enjoying this, so laughing was okay and nothing had swung back to hit him in the face. Yet. This was a tougher one, now, a one-arm elbow lever, all his weight balanced on one wrist, gut tight to support his legs as he pulled more of the set away, revealing a glimpse of Marcus's shoulder. Esca felt the intake of breath the audience seemed to make as one at the sight of flesh beneath the bark, and he looked out into the void, staring them down as he reached down to stroke Marcus's skin with a finger before clasping it firmly in his hand and pushing up into a one-handed frog position to bare the other.
Bit by bit, more of Marcus was revealed, and Esca could feel Marcus's movements, tensing and subtly changing his stance to work with Esca's shifting weight, even though his face was still hidden beneath various bits of carved foam rubber. What a pro. A rush of tender, almost paternal pride wormed its way into him, but the music was growing louder and more insistent, and the way the monster out there reacted when Marcus's hand was freed and stretched its fingers out, taking Esca's, shocked him out of it. A hum of approval. They wanted the tree to touch him, had been waiting for it. Crowded masses of humanity were weird sometimes. It was wonderful.
There it was, Marcus's upturned face, beautiful and implacable though close to expressionless, eyes closed. Esca settled himself on Marcus's shoulders, legs hanging down that beautiful chest, padded groin snuggled nicely against the back of Marcus's neck as Esca pretended to tickle the Marcus Tree, throwing himself backward to hang by his feet, then climbing up Marcus's torso like a monkey, swinging from those sturdy arms. His feathered fingers stroked the tree's chin, and, waiting for his musical cue, Esca leaned in, his mouth ready to whisper the words for Marcus alone a second before the tree's eyes were due to open.
“If we nail this, then yes, you get to fuck me afterwards.”
He pushed his tongue into the ear he'd accidentally jizzed into that morning, the audience laughing at that one cheeky gesture as Marcus's eyes flew open and looked at him in surprise. Esca took both offered hands, beginning the adagio, letting Marcus lift him up before he arched his back and leaned into a side split, blinking away the sweat stinging his eyes.
“Oh, now we're talking about this? Or are you going to flip out and go lock yourself in the restrooms?” Marcus had waited until Esca had wrapped himself around Marcus's shoulders again, close enough that the murmured retaliation could be heard.
“So I'm a bit nervous before a show.”
“A bit? You kidding me? Today wasn't a 'bit' anything.”
“Will you shush? This part's difficult.”
They both fell silent while they completed a complicated series of technical balances and swings, each one almost ending in a kiss, the crowd beyond the footlights applauding the end of each one, a cheer going up on the final balance at the end. Marcus was staring up at Esca, brow furrowed with exertion, ropey veins standing out on his neck and shoulders as they both settled themselves into the correct positions for the moving balance down to the kiss.
“You've got this. Go for it.”
Esca's arms felt like wet noodles, skin drenched with sweat, fingers slippery in Marcus's. He'd pushed himself too hard during his solo work, and must've burned through the few calories he'd managed to keep down within a few minutes of starting. He couldn't hold the balance for much longer, only the will of their audience keeping him up there, suspended from that perfect zen string Marcus always hung for him. Marcus squeezed his hands gently, the lips tight with effort whispering a few last words.
“We got this.”
The music built, Marcus lowering him inch by inch as they flowed together, the pulsing heartbeat beneath it all beginning to race until his lips were there, so close, the music falling away suddenly as Marcus's tongue was sliding into his mouth. Only the heart beating. Only the sighing of half the audience like a breeze lifting the forest's canopy. Only this, and them, in front of the world. Esca ran his tongue over Marcus's, his mouth crushing against Marcus's lips as the music began again triumphantly, a roar of approval from their many-hearted monster this time, the bare branches around them exploding into a mass of colours and textures, glittering and gleaming in the air around him and the audience cooed in wonder and Esca started to fall.
He'd known it, he had. He should've listened to himself. Esca's arms gave way, first one wobbling and giving way suddenly, throwing the balance out, then the other as he began to topple down towards the darkness, a drop that wouldn't be so dangerous for anyone not taking a headfirst dive into it. Time didn't slow down, not exactly, but he was very aware of closing his eyes as his hands grabbed at emptiness, searching for Marcus, for a branch, anything. He closed his eyes and the air whistled around him, and he must've hit a branch because his legs got swept up, but it was an arm, not a branch, another catching his shoulders.
The massed crowd, wonderful weirdos that they were, thought it was part of the act, whistling and clapping so loud and long that the sound of it vibrated through Esca. Marcus held onto him. Pulled him into that chest like Rhett Butler manhandling Esca's Scarlett up the stairs. Gave a very sincere 'Motherfuck' before laying the kind of kiss on Esca that made the bright white lights and milky ribbons now ejaculating down on them make all kinds of sudden sense.
They were moving, the whole set shifting downwards back into the bowels of the stage, the lights and applause fading out, the kiss going on and on as Esca slipped out of Marcus's arms to stand on the tree's base and press up against him closer. They were both grunting, needy, teeth clashing. Esca'd known angry kisses before, and messy, desperate, horny ones, but this was all of that and something else, Marcus's hands on his neck pulling him tightly into it with equal urgency as Esca. It wasn't until the stage crew attempting to let Marcus out of his harness had given a couple of discreet coughs and a “C'mon, guys, we need to switch this out . . .” before they managed to break it off.
“You caught me.”
“Jesus, that scared the shit outta me.” Marcus closed the dressing room door and leaned back on it once they'd made it through all the high-fives, air kisses and hugs on their way back through the wings. He looked dazed and totally wiped out, defeated, all the spray colour around his mouth kissed away. “Like, I swear that took a few years off.”
“But you caught me.”
Esca dropped into his chair, his legs unable to hold him up a second longer. He looked up at where Marcus was still leaning against the door, chest and shoulders bunching beautifully as he gave Esca one of those sheepish shrugs.
“That's what I'm there for.”
The laugh started down somewhere in the pit of Esca's belly, gurgling up and starting his shoulders shaking before it even came out of his mouth. It was helpless, a touch hysterical, tears squeezed out of the sides of his eyes as he laughed and laughed, unable to stop. Marcus looked at him quizzically, a grin starting to curl the corners of his smudgy mouth.
“What?”
“It's you. You're so . . . oh, ow, shit, that hurts.” Esca panted out the last few chuckles, trying to catch his breath.
“I'm what?”
“You're so blasé about it. Falling at that angle, with no safety gear, a direct line downward? That's at least a smashed shoulder and a concussion, probably much worse, and you're all, whatever, it's what I do.” Esca got to his feet, no strength left in him except about enough for the few steps it took to move across to lean into Marcus. “You saved my neck.”
The small smile was embarrassed, Marcus ducking his head down as Esca took hold of his hips. “I guess. Theoretically.”
“No, you did.” Esca hooked his thumbs into Marcus's tights and dance belt, giving them a downward tug as he stepped backwards towards his chair, Marcus's smile widening as he followed. “I know we're stuck here till finale, but if you let me sit down during, I was thinking you probably deserve a thank you.”
-
A sweaty dressing-room blowie, followed by Esca's surreptitious wank in one of the shared shower cubicles after finale, might have knocked the desperate edge off it, but they were all over each other the moment Marcus pushed the apartment door closed, thumbed the air-con thermostat to start it running and pulled Esca towards him by the hem of Esca's t-shirt.
“You still want to?” Marcus had already worked his hands inside Esca's sweats, grabbing both arse cheeks for a squeeze, his mouth on Esca's neck.
“That'd be a proper shitty thing to do, wouldn't it, saying I did in the middle of the act then going back on it. I'm not that bad.”
“I don't know . . .” Marcus groaned against Esca's jaw soon as Esca started rubbing the curve of his prick through his pants. “You've been pretty goddamn strung out this week.”
“Sorry. I'm a bitch on wheels on the run-up to a performance but there's honestly fuck all I can do about it.”
“Coulda warned me.”
“Suppose so.” Esca tugged the front of Marcus's sweat pants and briefs down, pulling the chubby, pretty cock inside out for a squeeze. “Uh, you might want to start avoiding me from around, what, four in the afternoon tomorrow.”
Marcus stopped sucking at Esca's left ear lobe, giving him a very vocal frown. “You're shitting me. Tell me it's not every performance.”
“I usually narrow it down to ninety minutes of daily cuntitude once the run hits its stride. It's not like its on purpose.”
Esca started to stroke Marcus's prick, Marcus's eyes fluttering shut, his blunt fingers tracing the line of Esca's bum up and down. “I couldn't deal. I'd quit, go crew.”
“Bollocks, you wouldn't. There's nothing like it, is there? The buzz you get, like you're floating away, a bubble of pure energy. You must've missed it so much.”
“Got one person to thank for giving it back to me.”
“You do?” Esca grinned and began to walk backwards towards the bedroom, bringing Marcus with him via a firm grip at the root of his cock. “Is that what you're planning to do? Thank me?”
Those pretty green eyes shone down at him, warm and as threaded through with gold as a Vegas sunset. “Thoroughly.”
Esca was running on fumes, too high to think about refuelling, belly full of the gallons of water he'd been mainlining since he'd finished blowing Marcus. In his experience, most guys fucking a professional acrobat for the first time expected something spectacular and bendy, but the slump of Marcus's shoulders as he pulled his shirt off over his head and the exhausted line of his neck reassured Esca that it was thankfully just going to be a fuck, no backflips off the bedhead expected. He rummaged in his bedside table drawer, grabbing the lube and frisbeeing a condom across the room towards Marcus, who fumbled it twice before snatching it out of the air.
“Rubber up. I've got to sort myself out a sec.”
There was something very endearing in the way Marcus was frowning down at his dick in concentration as he rolled the condom on. “You need a hand?”
“No. Next time, if you want to, but tonight I think it's best if we get on with it before we both crash.”
Esca stripped, leaving his clothes on the floor, lying down to hike a leg to start rubbing a fingertip of lube into and around his arsehole, his few fine hairs there catching on his finger as he swirled around them. It's not like he had much down there. He'd been more than flexible enough since his teen years to have checked out his bum in the mirror multiple times for many different reasons, and any fuzz there was paler than his bush. Esca didn't have much of an idea of what Marcus must be used to, but he'd been too wrapped up in the show to think about trimming anything, and if a little bit of wet blond fluff was enough to put Marcus off, there wasn't much he could do about it now.
He squirted more lube onto his fingers, closing his eyes as he pushed two in slowly, opening them again as a hand worked its way into the joint of his knee, pushing his leg further back. Marcus was standing next to the bed, leaning over Esca and staring down at him with that same intensity he'd always stared at Esca with in the first few weeks, his hard-on jutting out at an impressive angle considering he'd shot his wad down Esca's throat half an hour previously.
“Is it okay if I watch?”
“No, this is private, close your eyes.” Esca scoffed when Marcus complied, elbowing him into opening them again. “Don't be daft, 'course it's alright. Won't take much longer.”
Marcus bit his lip, his brows pulled down, cheekbone highlighted by the bedside light as he watched Esca's fingers working. “It's, uh . . . I've not seen, like, hundreds or whatever, but you have a nice one. It's cute. Your butthole,”
He added helpfully, as if Esca wouldn't have figured it out otherwise. It was awkward, kind of sweet. Esca managed for once not to take the piss, instead nodding solemnly as he pushed another finger in with a grunt and worked them around.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. You ready?”
“Just about. Slap a whole crapload of lube on himself there and we're good to go.”
“A whole crapload? Okay.”
“No such thing as too much lube. Hands and knees?”
“If that's good. It's a little easier on my leg.”
“That's what I figured.”
As foreplay went, it was all very well-mannered. It might've been the most courteous exchange of their whole acquaintance to date. Esca got into position in the middle of the bed and used the remaining lube on his fingers to start stroking his cock, not wanting to lose wood once Marcus started pushing in. The mattress shifted as the heavy bulk of Marcus settled behind him, two big hands gently laying themselves on Esca's bum cheeks, one thumb stretching out to rub over Esca's pucker a couple of times.
“Need me to go slow?” The thick tip of Marcus's prick was rubbing against him now, no breaching thrust behind it yet.
“Y'know. Nothing too glacial, but it's been awhile, so . . .”
“Sure.”
“But go nuts once you're in there.”
“Yeah.”
Esca waited as Marcus's cock continued to rub back and forth over him. He wiggled his bum back against it. “You okay back there, champ? Stage fright?”
“No.” The fingers of Marcus's right hand left his hip, stroking down Esca's back from his shoulder to take its grip again. “I just, I really want this. Can't believe it's happening.”
“It isn't, so far.”
Marcus's hands tightened, the bed shifting again as he moved to start pushing in. Esca held his breath and pushed out against it, sighing soon as the first stretch started.
“There we go, oh, yes.”
Marcus's breathing sounded ragged, the tip of his dick feeling thicker than Esca knew it was. The once-familiar burn was already intense, radiating down into his nuts and up his spine, his prick starting to wilt. He took in a quick breath, dropped down to one elbow to push back against Marcus, reaching down to start jacking himself hard again. “God, you feel huge.”
“You're so tight. So, fuh, so tight.”
Marcus's voice had dropped by half an octave and Esca felt it all over. His cock was softening further no matter how fast he tugged at it, the sensation of Marcus filling him up half-inch by half-inch overwhelming everything else. He moaned and shuddered as Marcus finished his slow shove all the way in, soft stubble prickling against his bum while the fat cock inside him flexed.
“Damn, you feel crazy good.”
“Glad to hear it. Fuck me.”
“Already?”
Esca shifted forward a centimetre before pushing back. “Now. Don't go slow.”
He hadn't wanted to need this as much as he did. Esca had gone a little insane over it the first few times he'd been fucked, a phase that had lasted a few years, but things with Bastien had slowed down to the point where they'd hardly bothered with anything more than a mutual jerk-off. He'd forgotten how it felt, the low burn starting to spark into life now Marcus was starting to move, both of them groaning loud with the first full thrust, a heavy throb starting to fill Esca's prick with heat. Esca leaned down deeper and arched his back, allowing his body to start to bounce off Marcus's hips as they began to speed up.
“You look unbelievably hot like this.” Marcus was digging his fingers in, his voice sounding like it was travelling through gritted teeth. “Incredible. Porno hot, and you feel, Jesus, Esca.”
Esca interrupted the pattern of ah-ah-ahs he'd established, his words replacing them in the spaces between thrusts. “You watch . . . gay porn?”
“Sometimes. A bunch more since I met you.”
“I didn't, ungh, know. You could've . . . shared.” Marcus shifted his hips upward and moved faster, Esca's cock jumping and dripping, harder now than he'd been in forever. “Oh, fuck, yes, oh, that's, that's, very, good.”
They were at full pace, the sound of the pounding Marcus was giving him filling the room along with Esca's rhythmic cursing. If they kept it up Esca knew neither of them would last that long, and maybe that was best, muscle aches and strained tendons from the show starting to complain at the additional exercise. But he didn't want it over so soon. The sharp ferocity of sensation every time Marcus slammed back inside of him was too good to be done with too fast, the acute spiralling want of every stroke inside his gut making him feel electrified, shivers and pulses criss-crossing his skin. That it was Marcus behind him, hotter and cuter than anyone else Esca had been with, opening him up so deeply, strong hands pulling Esca back into each thrust, meant it shouldn't be a quick fuck. It might just be a temporary, casual whatever, but now Marcus was moving inside Esca, gripping his neck and moaning his name, and it didn't feel exactly that anymore.
“Wait, I need . . . is it okay with you if we slow it down?”
Marcus was moving over him on all fours, big enough to cover Esca completely, sweat from that beautiful chest rubbing against his back while Marcus circled his hips in a slower grind. Esca let his head drop forward, eyes closed, mouth open. “Fine with me. That feels fucking lovely.”
“Yeah?” Marcus's breath gusted against Esca's ear as Marcus mouthed at it. “Can't imagine how it would but I won't argue with the evidence.”
“I'll demonstrate for you one day, if you want.”
“Me? Hell, no. More of, unhh, this. All this time, man, we shoulda been doing this the whole time.”
“Steady on. Let's give me a day or two of staggering around bow-legged before we plan any, oh, oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck that's good . . .”
Marcus had let go of one of Esca's hips, spitting into his hand before providing Esca with a classic reach-around, those long fingers fitting around him in a snug grip. “Come here. Come on, up you come.”
The other hand had flattened against Esca's chest and was pulling him upward, Marcus using his strength and heft to settle Esca back against his torso, cradling Esca's arse with his thighs. It drove him impossibly deeper, Esca letting out a husky sob when Marcus hit exactly right.
“Oh, shit, no, I'll come, I'll come so fucking fast if you keep, oh, oh no . . .”
“Go for it. I want you to shoot first. It's not like I get the chance that often.”
The hand against Esca's chest slid upward, fingers and thumb guiding his jaw around to stretch backwards, Marcus leaning around in a kiss almost as wet and deep as the fuck itself. Esca was building fast now that every movement had Marcus's prick bumping back and forth over his g-spot, how he was held entirely within the circle of Marcus's limbs, so totally impaled. Marcus's fingers were stroking him in a rapid slap that was driving it all faster until the edges of a powerfully turbulent climax started to blur the differences between the lips against his, the tongue in his mouth, the hand on him, the solid prong of dick inside his gut sending flashes of fire up his spine with every single thrust. It was too much and he heard himself whimpering, almost trying to climb off Marcus to get away from something just as terrifying as starting to fall headfirst into nothingness. He whined, hanging in space as his tired muscles started to squeeze, ready to contract, ready to let fly with everything.
“I'm so close but I can't, it's too much, I can't - ”
“I'm here.” It was breathed into his ear, the words pouring into him as the arm around him held him tighter. “Shoot for me, Esca. I'll catch you.”
That was it. He went off like a rocket, letting out a hoarse cry, each driving fuck through his spasming arsehole sending a fresh shot of cum over Marcus's knuckles, over the sheet, his mouth gasping into Marcus's. Just as Esca's lungs started to burn for air, his throat raw and his thighs cramping, the violent intensity of the spasms started to melt away into golden, glowing waves, rolling through him with a depth of satisfaction that went way beyond any high he'd reached before.
“Okay, I gotta come, I can't keep going or I'm going to have a freakin' heart attack.”
Esca could've purred as he flopped back down onto his stomach on the cum-spattered sheets, floaty and stoned, his bumhole numb and tingly-feeling. “After that, you can put me where you want me and do whatever the fuck you need to.”
“Can you get back up onto your knees?” Marcus was sounding frantic, his fingers digging into Esca's hips with bruising force. “I wanna go fast and hard.”
“Do I have to? I'd rather not move if I don't have to.”
“After what you just said? C'mon, lazy ass, shift it. I'm getting close . . .”
Esca grumbled as he managed it, using the very last of energy reserves he hadn't known he possessed, propping himself on bent arms, his forehead on his crossed wrists. He tried to clench around Marcus, unsure if it had worked until Marcus made a strangled squawking noise and thrust harder, losing his tempo, slamming into Esca five, six, seven times before freezing in place with a long, tremulous moan of celebratory accomplishment.
“That was some quality arsemanship.” Esca dropped his lube and cum-smeared shirt back over the side of the bed where he'd been attempting to salvage what was left of his bum and what had been clean sheets that morning, then reached over with a weak, woolly-muscled arm to pat Marcus on his flat belly. “You're wasted on women.”
“I'd like to think at least a couple of my exes might disagree with that.” Marcus's foot found Esca's ankle as they had that morning, a million years ago, his warm dry toes stroking over Esca's skin with a peaceful intimacy that was actually quite nice. “It's good to have your seal of approval, though.”
“You could add it to your resume. Might even give you a reference in the future.”
“You would?” Marcus turned his head to look across the bed at Esca where they were lying on opposite sides, his face bright red and sweaty, sodden bangs clinging to his broad forehead and the bedside lamp's light glittering off their ends like he was wearing a golden coronet. “Then I passed the audition. Awesome.”
Esca found himself smiling up at the ceiling, giving himself a second to enjoy his newfound appreciation of central air conditioning before rolling over onto his stomach, giving a satisfied-looking Marcus a kiss on one of those perfect shoulders.
“Don't go getting too smug, Markie boy. Passing the audition is one thing. Making it through training is another altogether.”
Pairing: Esca/Marcus
Rating: NC-17
Length: 8k
Warnings:
Summary: Esca's an acrobat, and he has an idea when he meets someone who used to dance in the show
A/N: There'll be a change of focus next chapter. This is end story arc #1 of 2. Thanks for the feedback, guys, it's hugely appreciated.
Fuck, it was good. Esca closed his eyes and stretched his head back, wallowing in the sensation of Marcus's body rutting up against him, all bed-warm and stinky. Thighs between his, Marcus's abundant muscular weight pushing him down into the bed. Mouth on his neck, chin covered in a night's regrowth. A hoarse croak into his ear, Spread your legs wider. Oh, ohyeah, ohh yeah. That big, blunt prick grinding against his, both of them slippery with precum, bellies sliding and crushing them closer, closer.
Waking up in bed with Marcus had mostly been a good thing, so far.
“Need more friction. Grab it.”
“What is with you and the grabbing of your things?” Esca skated a hand down between their hips, wrapping his hand around them both as best he could.
“Unh, that's good. You've got strong hands.” Marcus bit down on Esca's ear lobe, his breath coming fast and hot in Esca's ear. “From all the -”
“Wanking.”
A laugh into his neck, and then Marcus was kissing around his neck and his ear, making Esca squirm as he thrust upwards harder. “Acrobatics, whatever. Mm, yeah, exactly like that. Ohh, mmfh, I'm gonna, I'm gonna, oh, oh . . .”
“Already?”
“Close. I'm, ooh.”
Marcus started to lose his rhythm, his torso stiffening across Esca's, a needy gurgle escaping his throat as Esca locked his knees around Marcus's, pinched one of those flat brown nipples and tightened the grip of his other hand. “Come on, then, Mr. Speedy.”
“I need to, I need, oh God, ohGod.”
Marcus began to still, body quivering in Esca's hold on him, mouth open and anxious. Arse cheeks clenching against Esca's calf muscles. Cock swelling and pulsing in Esca's hand, and then Marcus was gasping into Esca's mouth, grunting, the whole long length of him surging against Esca with each spurt over Esca's prick. He grunted and convulsed with every drop Esca coaxed out of him, finally collapsing down onto Esca, face in Esca's neck with a happily fucked-out mumble.
“Oi.” Esca poked at one freckled shoulder. “Some of us aren't done.”
If it hadn't been for the considerable amount of attention his hard-on was currently demanding, he could've stayed like that awhile. Squished into the bed by a damp, floppy Marcus, who stank of BO, morning breath and cum. Deliciously. Nobody who smelled that bad should be so hot and exactly right, but Marcus managed it. Ridiculous, edible fucker that he was.
“Hey. I'm not finished yet, you lazy shite.”
“Mmhrm.”
“You what? C'mon, shift your bum.”
Marcus lifted his face out of Esca's neck, cheeks red, eyes bleary and blinking his way back into sensibility. “I said, I heard you. Give a guy a second. Okay, okay, I'm moving, jeesh.”
Esca finally succeeded in shoving Marcus off, rolling Marcus over onto his side of the bed then reaching down to grip his jizz-covered cock. Before, the idea of Marcus seeing him like this would've been mortifying to an unthinkable degree, but right from the start of all this, he'd actually been fine lying back and tugging one off with Marcus lying right there, watching him with those sleepy cat's eyes of his. More than fine. Marcus would watch every second, sometimes reaching out to touch or to encourage, to tickle or stroke stuff, sometimes to take over. Never had a simple hand shandy felt so easily carnal.
“Sit on me.”
“I'm busy.”
Marcus rolled flat onto his back, patting his naked belly and looking over at Esca expectantly. “No, listen. Straddle my stomach then shoot on my chest. That'd be kinda hot, right?”
“Yeah?” Esca's hand barely stopped moving as he frowned at Marcus. “You'd be okay with that?”
“Why wouldn't I be?”
“I might get you in the face. Entirely by accident, of course.”
“Oh, sure. By accident.” Marcus patted his stomach again. “Jump on. Saddle's waiting.”
“You're a stupid sod.” Esca laughed, pushing himself up to move across Marcus, who helped guide him into place, his hands pushing Esca's hips down until Esca's bum was nicely cushioned by a soft cock. “Fine, but I did warn you.”
His hand was brushed away by Marcus's, his prick gripped firmly, and Marcus started to undulate beneath Esca's hips, lifting him up and down an inch in a motion that fit perfectly with the tight, twisting fingers on his erection. Esca moaned in satisfaction, letting his head drop back, letting go with it and, fuck, it was So. Fucking. Good. It had been every time. Relaxed, and easy, easier than anything, increasing in intensity every second. Marcus's other hand was holding onto Esca's leg gently, barely even a grip on it, fingers shifting back and forth millimetres, and Esca briefly felt a horrible impulse to cover it with his own.
“You have a great body.” Marcus's eyes were all sleepy, dark slits looking up at him.
“Suppose so.” Esca was getting close enough to feel like yes, actually, it might be great, if Marcus thought so. “Would be nice if I possessed so much as an atom of melanin. Oh, ooh, that's - yes.”
“Feels good?”
“It does, so don't stop. Bit faster.”
Marcus pumped his hand, his grip never failing, perfectly tight. “First couple of times we met, I thought you were like this skinny little hipster douche. Then I walk into that studio and you're in your shorts, and it was like, bam! Skinny little hipster's secretly built. Gave me a semi.”
A swell of heat surfed through Esca's veins, throbbing through his balls and to the head of his prick. “Pocket Adonis, that's me.”
“It is.” Marcus tightened his fingers, chuckling when it made Esca's body jerk. “And, man, you in your costume, where it's all tight and all that skin and those feathery things . . .”
“My costume? Don't talk about the fucking show. Jesus Christ on a fucking bike,” A shrill tone was entering his voice, and Esca didn't care, screwing his eyes tighter closed and concentrating on how the movement of Marcus's hand was stoking the unfurling glow along the underside of his cock. “Keep it shut if you're not going to help.”
The hand working him had started to slow down, and Esca impatiently worked his hips back and forth, trying to get the speed back.
“I guess we don't have to talk about it, but you look pretty incredible, that's all.” Marcus had also stopped the up and down humping movement, but allowed his hand to match Esca's thrusts. “It's a compliment.”
“I'm five seconds from gagging you with an old sock if you don't shut your fat pie hole and let me come.”
“Fine, whatever. No biggie.”
Marcus fell silent, the slapping sound of his hand working Esca faster filling the room in place of words, Esca's breath harsh in his ears, his balls tightening, his back arching as his body took over and started to determinedly fuck Marcus's fist.
“When do I get to fuck you?”
“. . . W-what?”
Esca opened his eyes, his head falling forward, sweat-damp hair hanging in his eyes. He flicked it back to see Marcus still looking up at him, sleepiness gone, jaw in that determined set.
“I want to fuck you.”
“Shit. Ooh. Bugger.”
“Haven't stopped thinking about it since you said it.”
“Fuck, I'm close, don't, ohh . . .”
Marcus's hand tightened, the fingers of the other digging into Esca's thigh. “When? Tonight?”
It was burning through him, stinging, muscles climbing, toes curling, legs cramping. “Keep talking.”
“Yeah? I get to fuck you tonight?”
“Oh, fuck, shit, Marcus -”
His back flexed and Esca came, thrown back before his gut clenched with another hard spurt. He fell forward, grabbing onto Marcus's shoulders with both hands, every shot out onto Marcus's skin wrung out of him by every muscle in his body squeezing simultaneously in powerful spasms. It kept going, fuck, it wasn't stopping, and he whimpered with one last jolt.
“Seriously? You got it in my ear how?”
Esca had rolled off Marcus into a tangled, sweating mess of boneless limbs, but he forced his head up, starting to laugh as he caught sight of Marcus pulling a disgusted face, a finger exploring his ear canal. “Hoh, shit. Sorry.”
“Sure you are.” Marcus was grimacing at Esca's other cum-splats across his chest as he wiped his finger off on the bed. “Gross. And we need to wash these sheets today. Either that or burn them.”
“All that talk about fucking threw my aim off.” Esca sprawled on his stomach and buried his head in his pillow, cock smarting and over-sensitive against the bed. It was lovely. Everything was lovely. What a lovely come with lovely Marcus. “There's spare sheets in the cupboard. Go nuts.”
A foot knocked at his ankle. “I'm not your maid.”
“I know. Maids hoover once in a while.” He kicked back, but it had no strength to it and it ended up in some kind of foot snuggle, Marcus's toes stroking the underside of Esca's.
“Tonight?”
Esca buried his head deeper into his arms. “I said I didn't want to talk about the show.”
The toe caresses continued. “I wasn't talking about the show.”
Although he had no hope in hell of getting hard again for at least another twenty minutes, Esca's balls let out a little sizzle of approval as his arsehole clamped eagerly down on itself. “I thought that was just sexy talk to get me off.”
“Kinda. I mean, it was, but, y'know.”
“We'll be exhausted. And there's the party.”
“Fuck the party. Fuck exhaustion.” Marcus shifted until he was curled around half of Esca's body, stroking Esca's damp hair back in a way that felt blissful. “Fuck everything, and then fuck you, in the ass, in this bed.”
“Such language. Wash out your mouth.”
Esca rolled over to face Marcus, which was never a burden. Beautiful, serious, lovely Marcus, who moved to give Esca a sour, morning-breath kiss. It was faultless and slow, all nibbly and lots of lazy tongue. He was defenseless. Marcus was nuzzling his nose against Esca's, the warmth from his skin, his thumb rubbing along Esca's jaw as surprising as much as way too welcome. For a mostly-straight guy, Marcus was proving to be way more hands-on than Esca had expected. Hands and kisses only, so far, but it was a promising start.
“We'll be flying high after the show. It's the perfect time.”
“Will you stop talking about the fucking show already?”
“All that energy from the performance. It's got to go somewhere.”
“Christ, you don't listen, do you? I told you.” Afterglow gone, Esca pushed his way out from under Marcus's arm, sat up and swung his legs out of the bed, sudden anxiety making his throat burn. “It's not that I don't necessarily want to fuck, but I do not want to talk about tonight and you will not fucking listen to me, and you keep on and on about it. Fucking nightmare.”
Marcus rolled his eyes, “Here we go. Don't get in a piss.”
“Too late. I'm going to shower, alone.” Esca's indignant march of self-righteousness over to the bathroom was being ruined by the fact he was naked and covered in a drying mess of itching cum. Fucking Marcus. “Change the sheets and the subject by the time I'm finished.”
“Esca . . .”
It was impossible to slam the stupid sliding bathroom door, but Esca did his best, scowling at it when it bounced back halfway. So he grabbed it, pulling it back closed. Then locked it, which he didn't usually bother with. Hopefully Marcus would hear it and know what it meant.
“Don't. Just, don't, ignore it. Brush your fucking teeth.”
He started the shower running then squeezed out some toothpaste onto his toothbrush, switching it on and cramming it in his mouth all the while avoiding his reflection. Don't think about it. Think about something else. Anything else. New pants, had better shop. Flip-flops, too, now it was getting so hot. Could drop by the supplies store and get a stack of new exercise slippers, some without holes in. Some of his dance belts could do with replacing, although he'd have to wear his lucky one tonight, wherever the fuck he'd put it away from last time . . .
Esca spat out a mouthful of foam and wiped over his lips with the back of his hand, staring into the rapidly-steaming mirror, his panicky eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot.
“Fuck it. The show. The fucking show. Jesus fucking hell.”
His hands were shaking. For a moment, Esca thought he was going to cry. He dropped the brush in the sink and crouched, covering his face with his hands.
“It's fine. We're fine, it'll be fine, everything's going to be fine.”
Bollocks, was it. There was no escaping himself. It was tonight, the show, final technical dress with everyone watching. A theatre full of suits. Wings crammed with pairs of eyes, and the darkness waiting beneath willing him to lose balance. Tonight. Either way, from where Esca was crouched, it looked like he was screwed.
-
His lips were so grey with terror it was tough to figure out which bits needed more coverage. Esca sponged at them listlessly. After a day's vicious sniping, Marcus had retreated into a sullen silence over to his side of the dressing room, texting someone on his phone while resting his bad leg up, treating Esca to a sideways glance from under those eyebrows every time Esca ran to the sink to dry-heave a bit more until his stomach felt folded in half. Nothing left in there to throw up, or to shit, not after the day he'd had, nerves building every second. Esca took another look at himself from both sides, and thought a bit more about whether there was time enough to go out and find a bridge to jump off. Not many bridges in Vegas. Real, lethal ones, and queues for the Stratosphere would be insane this late.
“All cast and crew, five minutes till first curtain. Scene one beginners, please.”
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit fuck shit. Esca suppressed a whimper and sponged at his lips a bit more, while Marcus's reflection in his mirror frowned at him again, pursed his lips and started composing another text.
“You gonna stretch again anytime soon? You should let me help.”
“Piss off. You're as bad as Noz.” The idea of doing anything but sitting in this chair was like leaning over and looking directly down a cliff face.
“You're gonna injure yourself, then bitch about it. Awesome.”
“I have done all this circusy thing before, actually.”
Marcus sighed and swung his leg off his counter top. “Whatever.”
Twenty-five-ish minutes till their call to the stage, depending on how their audience of executives was responding. Marcus was correct and Esca knew it, but the big bugger was smugly stretching his body out now he'd unzipped the hoody and shrugged the sweats off, so Esca swallowed his panic down, played with the grey-green mottling around his mouth some more and watched Marcus's reflection instead, because that was the one thing that might help him relax.
Marcus's only costume of note was translucent bark-patterned tights and a dance belt, everything else air-brushed directly onto his skin and his knotted hair all tufted up like shards of old wood. He looked ancient and colossal, skin and muscle rippling under the golds and browns of the spray paint. All the puppyish pads of cushiony fat of before had gone. Esca almost missed them, some days, but he had to admit Marcus looked staggering without. If Mario had wanted a show about sex, they should've simply stuck Marcus in his see-through tights out there centre centre and left a spot on him. Esca fought not to tilt his head for a better view as Marcus pulled his bad leg up against the wall to stretch out his hams, the padded bulge of his balls an inviting curve within easy reach.
“Y'know what might distract you from your little case of whatever the hell this has been today? It would definitely qualify as a warm-up.”
There was a smile in Marcus's voice. Esca dragged his eyes and mind away from Marcus's nuts to see that Marcus had caught Esca eyeing up his package, almost slavering down his chin.
“You're out of your tiny mind.”
“Might help you chill. I've seen how you are afterwards.” Marcus quit stretching and placed his hands on Esca's shoulders, fingers stroking at the leafy feathers covering them. “Plus, man, this costume does it for me like I can't even tell you.”
“No. Micah would go batshit if either of us got messed up.”
Marcus plucked at a feather, his mouth lifting and a dimple appearing briefly when Esca shook his hand off. “Think about it. The whole auditorium watching us, and they wouldn't have a clue that I came in your mouth minutes before.”
“My mouth?” Esca went back to adjusting his make up. “I thought this was about getting me to relax.”
“Oh, come on. I thought you liked that.”
“I don't exactly hate it if someone decides to give me a nosh, either. You offering?” Marcus's reflection frowned, breaking off eye contact and staring down at where his fingers and thumb were still playing with one of Esca's feathers. “Yeah. Didn't think so. So, thanks, but you go back to your stretching like a good boy.”
A pause, and Marcus let go of the feather, stepping away, grabbing his banana and water bottle. “Can do. I'll move it into the hallway, give you some space.”
“I'm sure I can handle your absence somehow.”
Marcus hesitated at the door, fingers grasping its handle without opening it. “Anyone ever tell you you're a delight to work with?”
“People whose opinions matter to me.”
“That's great, Esca. I'll see you in the wings. Break a goddamn leg.”
The door to their small dressing room slammed behind Marcus, someone next door laughing, perhaps in response. Esca looked at himself in the mirror, wound too tight to call himself a cock like he probably should. The latex headpiece, sweeping up and off his forehead like a pale green flame was holding, no matter how much sweat was already building up beneath. His own air-brushing moved in and out of greys, greens and whites, mossy and like he was fading in and out of shadows, the feathers on his shoulders echoed down his back and along his eyebrows, over where his ears were tucked away. He looked nakedly delicate and unreal, able to be carried off on a breeze, his eyes ringed with darker, richer green smudges and curving lines that made them look huge in his pale, starkly-shadowed face, his mouth almost disappearing. Maybe Marcus sometimes wished it would.
“Look at you, you fancy fairy shite. Junior Olympic squad? No, not me.” Esca took one last look then cricked his neck out, knowing he'd left it too late for enough of a thorough warm-up and how he'd pay for it in the coming days. “Run away and join the circus, because why the fuck not? Eh? How to make your dad proud in one dainty step.”
His reflection gazed back at him, all eyes and cheekbones without the ears distracting from everything. Almost pretty. Not nearly close enough.
“All cast and crew, this is DSM confirming curtain up. Scene two beginners, please.”
Esca's fingers gripped the side of the sink so tightly they ached as he watched the water swirling a mouthful of claggy saliva down the drain. Look at that. Apparently he wasn't quite done puking yet. Yay.
-
Climbing required leg muscles. He didn't have any, Esca was sure of it. He was dizzy from lack of oxygen, chest too tight to breathe as he waited upper stage right, the scissor lift he was standing on quivering from where he was shaking so violently. Already he seemed too high up, Marcus metres below him hidden in the bowels of the stage, the both of them waiting for the music cue and for their set to slide effortlessly up and into place. This was too big and he was too high up, and he was going to fall. Falls happened. Not all the time, but once would be enough. He was going to die. He was dying, heart sprinting, lungs frozen.
Ba-Dum.
The first pulsing of the heartbeat. A near-silent whirring in the darkness was the only signal he had that the huge, raked forest set was spinning up out of the stage into place, carrying Marcus with it.
Ba-Dum. Ba-Dum.
A faint brown-purple glow started to appear as lights faded up, and Esca looked over his shoulder to where the stage hand was waiting for a cue, finger held up. This was it. Armageddon. The end of the fucking world as he knew it. The live singers started their wailing, harmonious and shattering. He wanted to weep. No time left. The finger came down as he was given the nod. Esca reached out to take his first handholds on the forest they'd built for him to explore, and finally, finally breathed out the last of his panic.
Performances had never become an automatic thing. He could feel every different audience out there like it was some pulsing, hungry mass, waiting to devour and to suck everything he had into itself, giving just as much back. Every show he'd ever done had been the same - holding it back during rehearsals, too cautious and far too anxious, then the massed energy of the audience would hit him and fill him up, unconsciously forcing Esca into more extreme stretches. His balances became more daring, every part of him fighting for then hitting that perfect note time and time again, lifted and held aloft by the breath and the focus of them all. His small but notable reputation had been built on how bright he'd shine every time he performed live, and thank holy fucking lord of all Gods it didn't look like today going to be the day that reputation was shattered.
Some of the performers would say timed slowed down during a performance, for them, but for Esca it always flew. Bridge kickover onto his first stump. Shoulders down, boost up from the quads into a split leap to the next, turning into an immediate standing back handspring downwards over the gap and onto another and earning himself a huge gasp, a ripple of applause that swept around him. Now into a two-handed balance leaning backwards until he found his footing, twisting himself upward and then searching down, picking his way through the trees in a cascade of speedy one-handed balances like it was his private playhouse. It went too fast, and he couldn't stop smiling. Just as well the role called for it. He could feel the audience allowing itself to be charmed, and he loved them for it, loved every heart in that big, breathing monster out there because it was falling in love with him.
Oh. Crap, yes. Marcus in the tree. Esca had been having so much fun he'd almost forgotten, his body automatically leading him down there. He plucked the first bit of bark away and blew it out of the palm of his hand with his magic, the accompanying glissando of chimes from the band's huge flying cradle making him laugh almost as much as it had the first time he'd heard it. Fucking Canadian hippies and their tinkly bells. Whatever, his imp was supposed to be enjoying this, so laughing was okay and nothing had swung back to hit him in the face. Yet. This was a tougher one, now, a one-arm elbow lever, all his weight balanced on one wrist, gut tight to support his legs as he pulled more of the set away, revealing a glimpse of Marcus's shoulder. Esca felt the intake of breath the audience seemed to make as one at the sight of flesh beneath the bark, and he looked out into the void, staring them down as he reached down to stroke Marcus's skin with a finger before clasping it firmly in his hand and pushing up into a one-handed frog position to bare the other.
Bit by bit, more of Marcus was revealed, and Esca could feel Marcus's movements, tensing and subtly changing his stance to work with Esca's shifting weight, even though his face was still hidden beneath various bits of carved foam rubber. What a pro. A rush of tender, almost paternal pride wormed its way into him, but the music was growing louder and more insistent, and the way the monster out there reacted when Marcus's hand was freed and stretched its fingers out, taking Esca's, shocked him out of it. A hum of approval. They wanted the tree to touch him, had been waiting for it. Crowded masses of humanity were weird sometimes. It was wonderful.
There it was, Marcus's upturned face, beautiful and implacable though close to expressionless, eyes closed. Esca settled himself on Marcus's shoulders, legs hanging down that beautiful chest, padded groin snuggled nicely against the back of Marcus's neck as Esca pretended to tickle the Marcus Tree, throwing himself backward to hang by his feet, then climbing up Marcus's torso like a monkey, swinging from those sturdy arms. His feathered fingers stroked the tree's chin, and, waiting for his musical cue, Esca leaned in, his mouth ready to whisper the words for Marcus alone a second before the tree's eyes were due to open.
“If we nail this, then yes, you get to fuck me afterwards.”
He pushed his tongue into the ear he'd accidentally jizzed into that morning, the audience laughing at that one cheeky gesture as Marcus's eyes flew open and looked at him in surprise. Esca took both offered hands, beginning the adagio, letting Marcus lift him up before he arched his back and leaned into a side split, blinking away the sweat stinging his eyes.
“Oh, now we're talking about this? Or are you going to flip out and go lock yourself in the restrooms?” Marcus had waited until Esca had wrapped himself around Marcus's shoulders again, close enough that the murmured retaliation could be heard.
“So I'm a bit nervous before a show.”
“A bit? You kidding me? Today wasn't a 'bit' anything.”
“Will you shush? This part's difficult.”
They both fell silent while they completed a complicated series of technical balances and swings, each one almost ending in a kiss, the crowd beyond the footlights applauding the end of each one, a cheer going up on the final balance at the end. Marcus was staring up at Esca, brow furrowed with exertion, ropey veins standing out on his neck and shoulders as they both settled themselves into the correct positions for the moving balance down to the kiss.
“You've got this. Go for it.”
Esca's arms felt like wet noodles, skin drenched with sweat, fingers slippery in Marcus's. He'd pushed himself too hard during his solo work, and must've burned through the few calories he'd managed to keep down within a few minutes of starting. He couldn't hold the balance for much longer, only the will of their audience keeping him up there, suspended from that perfect zen string Marcus always hung for him. Marcus squeezed his hands gently, the lips tight with effort whispering a few last words.
“We got this.”
The music built, Marcus lowering him inch by inch as they flowed together, the pulsing heartbeat beneath it all beginning to race until his lips were there, so close, the music falling away suddenly as Marcus's tongue was sliding into his mouth. Only the heart beating. Only the sighing of half the audience like a breeze lifting the forest's canopy. Only this, and them, in front of the world. Esca ran his tongue over Marcus's, his mouth crushing against Marcus's lips as the music began again triumphantly, a roar of approval from their many-hearted monster this time, the bare branches around them exploding into a mass of colours and textures, glittering and gleaming in the air around him and the audience cooed in wonder and Esca started to fall.
He'd known it, he had. He should've listened to himself. Esca's arms gave way, first one wobbling and giving way suddenly, throwing the balance out, then the other as he began to topple down towards the darkness, a drop that wouldn't be so dangerous for anyone not taking a headfirst dive into it. Time didn't slow down, not exactly, but he was very aware of closing his eyes as his hands grabbed at emptiness, searching for Marcus, for a branch, anything. He closed his eyes and the air whistled around him, and he must've hit a branch because his legs got swept up, but it was an arm, not a branch, another catching his shoulders.
The massed crowd, wonderful weirdos that they were, thought it was part of the act, whistling and clapping so loud and long that the sound of it vibrated through Esca. Marcus held onto him. Pulled him into that chest like Rhett Butler manhandling Esca's Scarlett up the stairs. Gave a very sincere 'Motherfuck' before laying the kind of kiss on Esca that made the bright white lights and milky ribbons now ejaculating down on them make all kinds of sudden sense.
They were moving, the whole set shifting downwards back into the bowels of the stage, the lights and applause fading out, the kiss going on and on as Esca slipped out of Marcus's arms to stand on the tree's base and press up against him closer. They were both grunting, needy, teeth clashing. Esca'd known angry kisses before, and messy, desperate, horny ones, but this was all of that and something else, Marcus's hands on his neck pulling him tightly into it with equal urgency as Esca. It wasn't until the stage crew attempting to let Marcus out of his harness had given a couple of discreet coughs and a “C'mon, guys, we need to switch this out . . .” before they managed to break it off.
“You caught me.”
“Jesus, that scared the shit outta me.” Marcus closed the dressing room door and leaned back on it once they'd made it through all the high-fives, air kisses and hugs on their way back through the wings. He looked dazed and totally wiped out, defeated, all the spray colour around his mouth kissed away. “Like, I swear that took a few years off.”
“But you caught me.”
Esca dropped into his chair, his legs unable to hold him up a second longer. He looked up at where Marcus was still leaning against the door, chest and shoulders bunching beautifully as he gave Esca one of those sheepish shrugs.
“That's what I'm there for.”
The laugh started down somewhere in the pit of Esca's belly, gurgling up and starting his shoulders shaking before it even came out of his mouth. It was helpless, a touch hysterical, tears squeezed out of the sides of his eyes as he laughed and laughed, unable to stop. Marcus looked at him quizzically, a grin starting to curl the corners of his smudgy mouth.
“What?”
“It's you. You're so . . . oh, ow, shit, that hurts.” Esca panted out the last few chuckles, trying to catch his breath.
“I'm what?”
“You're so blasé about it. Falling at that angle, with no safety gear, a direct line downward? That's at least a smashed shoulder and a concussion, probably much worse, and you're all, whatever, it's what I do.” Esca got to his feet, no strength left in him except about enough for the few steps it took to move across to lean into Marcus. “You saved my neck.”
The small smile was embarrassed, Marcus ducking his head down as Esca took hold of his hips. “I guess. Theoretically.”
“No, you did.” Esca hooked his thumbs into Marcus's tights and dance belt, giving them a downward tug as he stepped backwards towards his chair, Marcus's smile widening as he followed. “I know we're stuck here till finale, but if you let me sit down during, I was thinking you probably deserve a thank you.”
-
A sweaty dressing-room blowie, followed by Esca's surreptitious wank in one of the shared shower cubicles after finale, might have knocked the desperate edge off it, but they were all over each other the moment Marcus pushed the apartment door closed, thumbed the air-con thermostat to start it running and pulled Esca towards him by the hem of Esca's t-shirt.
“You still want to?” Marcus had already worked his hands inside Esca's sweats, grabbing both arse cheeks for a squeeze, his mouth on Esca's neck.
“That'd be a proper shitty thing to do, wouldn't it, saying I did in the middle of the act then going back on it. I'm not that bad.”
“I don't know . . .” Marcus groaned against Esca's jaw soon as Esca started rubbing the curve of his prick through his pants. “You've been pretty goddamn strung out this week.”
“Sorry. I'm a bitch on wheels on the run-up to a performance but there's honestly fuck all I can do about it.”
“Coulda warned me.”
“Suppose so.” Esca tugged the front of Marcus's sweat pants and briefs down, pulling the chubby, pretty cock inside out for a squeeze. “Uh, you might want to start avoiding me from around, what, four in the afternoon tomorrow.”
Marcus stopped sucking at Esca's left ear lobe, giving him a very vocal frown. “You're shitting me. Tell me it's not every performance.”
“I usually narrow it down to ninety minutes of daily cuntitude once the run hits its stride. It's not like its on purpose.”
Esca started to stroke Marcus's prick, Marcus's eyes fluttering shut, his blunt fingers tracing the line of Esca's bum up and down. “I couldn't deal. I'd quit, go crew.”
“Bollocks, you wouldn't. There's nothing like it, is there? The buzz you get, like you're floating away, a bubble of pure energy. You must've missed it so much.”
“Got one person to thank for giving it back to me.”
“You do?” Esca grinned and began to walk backwards towards the bedroom, bringing Marcus with him via a firm grip at the root of his cock. “Is that what you're planning to do? Thank me?”
Those pretty green eyes shone down at him, warm and as threaded through with gold as a Vegas sunset. “Thoroughly.”
Esca was running on fumes, too high to think about refuelling, belly full of the gallons of water he'd been mainlining since he'd finished blowing Marcus. In his experience, most guys fucking a professional acrobat for the first time expected something spectacular and bendy, but the slump of Marcus's shoulders as he pulled his shirt off over his head and the exhausted line of his neck reassured Esca that it was thankfully just going to be a fuck, no backflips off the bedhead expected. He rummaged in his bedside table drawer, grabbing the lube and frisbeeing a condom across the room towards Marcus, who fumbled it twice before snatching it out of the air.
“Rubber up. I've got to sort myself out a sec.”
There was something very endearing in the way Marcus was frowning down at his dick in concentration as he rolled the condom on. “You need a hand?”
“No. Next time, if you want to, but tonight I think it's best if we get on with it before we both crash.”
Esca stripped, leaving his clothes on the floor, lying down to hike a leg to start rubbing a fingertip of lube into and around his arsehole, his few fine hairs there catching on his finger as he swirled around them. It's not like he had much down there. He'd been more than flexible enough since his teen years to have checked out his bum in the mirror multiple times for many different reasons, and any fuzz there was paler than his bush. Esca didn't have much of an idea of what Marcus must be used to, but he'd been too wrapped up in the show to think about trimming anything, and if a little bit of wet blond fluff was enough to put Marcus off, there wasn't much he could do about it now.
He squirted more lube onto his fingers, closing his eyes as he pushed two in slowly, opening them again as a hand worked its way into the joint of his knee, pushing his leg further back. Marcus was standing next to the bed, leaning over Esca and staring down at him with that same intensity he'd always stared at Esca with in the first few weeks, his hard-on jutting out at an impressive angle considering he'd shot his wad down Esca's throat half an hour previously.
“Is it okay if I watch?”
“No, this is private, close your eyes.” Esca scoffed when Marcus complied, elbowing him into opening them again. “Don't be daft, 'course it's alright. Won't take much longer.”
Marcus bit his lip, his brows pulled down, cheekbone highlighted by the bedside light as he watched Esca's fingers working. “It's, uh . . . I've not seen, like, hundreds or whatever, but you have a nice one. It's cute. Your butthole,”
He added helpfully, as if Esca wouldn't have figured it out otherwise. It was awkward, kind of sweet. Esca managed for once not to take the piss, instead nodding solemnly as he pushed another finger in with a grunt and worked them around.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. You ready?”
“Just about. Slap a whole crapload of lube on himself there and we're good to go.”
“A whole crapload? Okay.”
“No such thing as too much lube. Hands and knees?”
“If that's good. It's a little easier on my leg.”
“That's what I figured.”
As foreplay went, it was all very well-mannered. It might've been the most courteous exchange of their whole acquaintance to date. Esca got into position in the middle of the bed and used the remaining lube on his fingers to start stroking his cock, not wanting to lose wood once Marcus started pushing in. The mattress shifted as the heavy bulk of Marcus settled behind him, two big hands gently laying themselves on Esca's bum cheeks, one thumb stretching out to rub over Esca's pucker a couple of times.
“Need me to go slow?” The thick tip of Marcus's prick was rubbing against him now, no breaching thrust behind it yet.
“Y'know. Nothing too glacial, but it's been awhile, so . . .”
“Sure.”
“But go nuts once you're in there.”
“Yeah.”
Esca waited as Marcus's cock continued to rub back and forth over him. He wiggled his bum back against it. “You okay back there, champ? Stage fright?”
“No.” The fingers of Marcus's right hand left his hip, stroking down Esca's back from his shoulder to take its grip again. “I just, I really want this. Can't believe it's happening.”
“It isn't, so far.”
Marcus's hands tightened, the bed shifting again as he moved to start pushing in. Esca held his breath and pushed out against it, sighing soon as the first stretch started.
“There we go, oh, yes.”
Marcus's breathing sounded ragged, the tip of his dick feeling thicker than Esca knew it was. The once-familiar burn was already intense, radiating down into his nuts and up his spine, his prick starting to wilt. He took in a quick breath, dropped down to one elbow to push back against Marcus, reaching down to start jacking himself hard again. “God, you feel huge.”
“You're so tight. So, fuh, so tight.”
Marcus's voice had dropped by half an octave and Esca felt it all over. His cock was softening further no matter how fast he tugged at it, the sensation of Marcus filling him up half-inch by half-inch overwhelming everything else. He moaned and shuddered as Marcus finished his slow shove all the way in, soft stubble prickling against his bum while the fat cock inside him flexed.
“Damn, you feel crazy good.”
“Glad to hear it. Fuck me.”
“Already?”
Esca shifted forward a centimetre before pushing back. “Now. Don't go slow.”
He hadn't wanted to need this as much as he did. Esca had gone a little insane over it the first few times he'd been fucked, a phase that had lasted a few years, but things with Bastien had slowed down to the point where they'd hardly bothered with anything more than a mutual jerk-off. He'd forgotten how it felt, the low burn starting to spark into life now Marcus was starting to move, both of them groaning loud with the first full thrust, a heavy throb starting to fill Esca's prick with heat. Esca leaned down deeper and arched his back, allowing his body to start to bounce off Marcus's hips as they began to speed up.
“You look unbelievably hot like this.” Marcus was digging his fingers in, his voice sounding like it was travelling through gritted teeth. “Incredible. Porno hot, and you feel, Jesus, Esca.”
Esca interrupted the pattern of ah-ah-ahs he'd established, his words replacing them in the spaces between thrusts. “You watch . . . gay porn?”
“Sometimes. A bunch more since I met you.”
“I didn't, ungh, know. You could've . . . shared.” Marcus shifted his hips upward and moved faster, Esca's cock jumping and dripping, harder now than he'd been in forever. “Oh, fuck, yes, oh, that's, that's, very, good.”
They were at full pace, the sound of the pounding Marcus was giving him filling the room along with Esca's rhythmic cursing. If they kept it up Esca knew neither of them would last that long, and maybe that was best, muscle aches and strained tendons from the show starting to complain at the additional exercise. But he didn't want it over so soon. The sharp ferocity of sensation every time Marcus slammed back inside of him was too good to be done with too fast, the acute spiralling want of every stroke inside his gut making him feel electrified, shivers and pulses criss-crossing his skin. That it was Marcus behind him, hotter and cuter than anyone else Esca had been with, opening him up so deeply, strong hands pulling Esca back into each thrust, meant it shouldn't be a quick fuck. It might just be a temporary, casual whatever, but now Marcus was moving inside Esca, gripping his neck and moaning his name, and it didn't feel exactly that anymore.
“Wait, I need . . . is it okay with you if we slow it down?”
Marcus was moving over him on all fours, big enough to cover Esca completely, sweat from that beautiful chest rubbing against his back while Marcus circled his hips in a slower grind. Esca let his head drop forward, eyes closed, mouth open. “Fine with me. That feels fucking lovely.”
“Yeah?” Marcus's breath gusted against Esca's ear as Marcus mouthed at it. “Can't imagine how it would but I won't argue with the evidence.”
“I'll demonstrate for you one day, if you want.”
“Me? Hell, no. More of, unhh, this. All this time, man, we shoulda been doing this the whole time.”
“Steady on. Let's give me a day or two of staggering around bow-legged before we plan any, oh, oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck that's good . . .”
Marcus had let go of one of Esca's hips, spitting into his hand before providing Esca with a classic reach-around, those long fingers fitting around him in a snug grip. “Come here. Come on, up you come.”
The other hand had flattened against Esca's chest and was pulling him upward, Marcus using his strength and heft to settle Esca back against his torso, cradling Esca's arse with his thighs. It drove him impossibly deeper, Esca letting out a husky sob when Marcus hit exactly right.
“Oh, shit, no, I'll come, I'll come so fucking fast if you keep, oh, oh no . . .”
“Go for it. I want you to shoot first. It's not like I get the chance that often.”
The hand against Esca's chest slid upward, fingers and thumb guiding his jaw around to stretch backwards, Marcus leaning around in a kiss almost as wet and deep as the fuck itself. Esca was building fast now that every movement had Marcus's prick bumping back and forth over his g-spot, how he was held entirely within the circle of Marcus's limbs, so totally impaled. Marcus's fingers were stroking him in a rapid slap that was driving it all faster until the edges of a powerfully turbulent climax started to blur the differences between the lips against his, the tongue in his mouth, the hand on him, the solid prong of dick inside his gut sending flashes of fire up his spine with every single thrust. It was too much and he heard himself whimpering, almost trying to climb off Marcus to get away from something just as terrifying as starting to fall headfirst into nothingness. He whined, hanging in space as his tired muscles started to squeeze, ready to contract, ready to let fly with everything.
“I'm so close but I can't, it's too much, I can't - ”
“I'm here.” It was breathed into his ear, the words pouring into him as the arm around him held him tighter. “Shoot for me, Esca. I'll catch you.”
That was it. He went off like a rocket, letting out a hoarse cry, each driving fuck through his spasming arsehole sending a fresh shot of cum over Marcus's knuckles, over the sheet, his mouth gasping into Marcus's. Just as Esca's lungs started to burn for air, his throat raw and his thighs cramping, the violent intensity of the spasms started to melt away into golden, glowing waves, rolling through him with a depth of satisfaction that went way beyond any high he'd reached before.
“Okay, I gotta come, I can't keep going or I'm going to have a freakin' heart attack.”
Esca could've purred as he flopped back down onto his stomach on the cum-spattered sheets, floaty and stoned, his bumhole numb and tingly-feeling. “After that, you can put me where you want me and do whatever the fuck you need to.”
“Can you get back up onto your knees?” Marcus was sounding frantic, his fingers digging into Esca's hips with bruising force. “I wanna go fast and hard.”
“Do I have to? I'd rather not move if I don't have to.”
“After what you just said? C'mon, lazy ass, shift it. I'm getting close . . .”
Esca grumbled as he managed it, using the very last of energy reserves he hadn't known he possessed, propping himself on bent arms, his forehead on his crossed wrists. He tried to clench around Marcus, unsure if it had worked until Marcus made a strangled squawking noise and thrust harder, losing his tempo, slamming into Esca five, six, seven times before freezing in place with a long, tremulous moan of celebratory accomplishment.
“That was some quality arsemanship.” Esca dropped his lube and cum-smeared shirt back over the side of the bed where he'd been attempting to salvage what was left of his bum and what had been clean sheets that morning, then reached over with a weak, woolly-muscled arm to pat Marcus on his flat belly. “You're wasted on women.”
“I'd like to think at least a couple of my exes might disagree with that.” Marcus's foot found Esca's ankle as they had that morning, a million years ago, his warm dry toes stroking over Esca's skin with a peaceful intimacy that was actually quite nice. “It's good to have your seal of approval, though.”
“You could add it to your resume. Might even give you a reference in the future.”
“You would?” Marcus turned his head to look across the bed at Esca where they were lying on opposite sides, his face bright red and sweaty, sodden bangs clinging to his broad forehead and the bedside lamp's light glittering off their ends like he was wearing a golden coronet. “Then I passed the audition. Awesome.”
Esca found himself smiling up at the ceiling, giving himself a second to enjoy his newfound appreciation of central air conditioning before rolling over onto his stomach, giving a satisfied-looking Marcus a kiss on one of those perfect shoulders.
“Don't go getting too smug, Markie boy. Passing the audition is one thing. Making it through training is another altogether.”