7. Micha
CHAPTER SEVEN
MICHA
I’ve never seen Arlo like this. His cheeks are covered in a deep blush, and his eyes keep scrunching like he’s in pain, but I know it’s not pain. His hand keeps squeezing the bulge in his trousers.
My brain is still playing catchup. I can’t fathom what happened properly. Did she do something to him to make him this way? Or does he simply fancy the circus girl?
“I think there’s one option for me here, Pipsqueak.”
He looks up at me with that innocent tinge, and it’s my cock’s turn to jerk.
I shouldn’t let myself give into this, but he looks so needy, so desperate. I can’t leave him like this.
“Mouth or hand?”
“W-What?”
“Do you want to fuck my mouth or my hand? My ass isn’t on the table in the back of an alleyway, I’m afraid.”
He looks around, like he forgot where we are.
“You don’t want me like that, Micha. Help me get home so I can sort it myself.”
“You think that’s the truth?” I ask, leaning close. “You think I’ve never fucked my fist to the thought of you? The thought of taking your little ass?”
His mouth parts like he wants to reply, but I don’t let him, pressing my lips to his, and he immediately groans.
I press harder, letting years of pent-up feelings and emotions spill out through a moan, the taste of him better than I ever could have imagined.
The back of his head presses against the wall as I take control of the kiss, forcing his lips open with my tongue, making him take what I want now that our bodies have opened for each other.
“I’m in charge, Pipsqueak. Got it? You’re turned on over someone else. I’m not going to make this easy for you.”
“I can’t help it.” He gasps when I flick open the button and slip my hands into his trousers, finding his hard cock and releasing it from its confinements. “She… God, Micha.”
“She what?” I rub my hand over the base, counting each ridge of his piercings. He has a full Jacob’s ladder. I’ve seen him naked before; I knew he had these, but to be able to feel them after all this time gives me a rush of excitement. “Tell me, Arlo.”
“She touched my cock. And I’ve thought about her doing that before.”
I pause, looking down at him, and he groans in frustration. “You have?”
He bites his lip, nodding. “When I saw her on the circus posters, I was obsessed.”
“You want her to touch you? That monster?”
“No! Yes? Maybe. Crap, Micha, I don’t know, okay? Pump my cock already. I need to come.”
I laugh under my breath at his desperation. I didn’t realise he was so naughty, so messed up. His cock is hard over that circus girl, and I had no idea he fancied her.
“Little beg, aren’t you?” I move my hand up and down, watching as his face contorts with pleasure. “You must like pain to get all these piercings.”
“I fucking love pain,” he whimpers, grabbing my shirt and rocking his hips, desperate for release.
My mind goes blank. I should have known—he has endless piercings and tattoos. Maybe he can handle more than I expected. Maybe I’ve been pushing him away for the wrong reasons.
Hearing him say that out loud makes me force back a groan of my own.
We can test his confession.
I squeeze his cock, and his fingers dig into my chest, eyes narrowing on mine in challenge.
I use my other hand to enclose his throat, pressing tightly and cutting off his airway.
He lets me, eyes fluttering shut like he’s in heaven.
Arousal shoots south at the sight. He’s so beautiful under the overhead streetlight, nestled into the corners of an alleyway like a dirty secret.
“That’s it, take it,” I whisper, pumping his cock in a tight fist. His lips part, and I know he’s close, desperation making his hips twitch. “Atta boy. Just like that. You’re a filthy little thing, aren’t you? I bet you’re thinking about her.”
His eyes snap open, and I know damn well he is.
“You want her long tongue around your cock? I bet she could do some wild tricks with that thing. And I bet you wanna find out, don’t you?” He nods, the action barely noticeable with my hand around his throat. His flushed skin is paling. He’s reaching his limit.
I pump my hand faster.
“Come for me, Pipsqueak. And think about me now, your big brother, getting you off in an alleyway like a dirty toy.”
I release his neck. He inhales like he’s dying. Long ropes of cum shoot from the tip of his cock. His gasps meld with groans as he overcomes the orgasmic high, and his cum lands on my thigh.
“Fuuuck,” he groans, tilting his head away from me as he comes down.
“I’m not done with you yet,” I laugh, running my hand through his tight curls. “Lick it up.”
If he’s opposed to the idea of cleaning himself off my leg, he doesn’t show it, leaning forward with his pierced tongue out for me to see.
“Good boy,” I taunt. My smirk grows when I see him pause, like he’s about to defy me. He hates how I have him in my grip now that his orgasm is over. But then he follows my command without complaint, licking his cum off my jeans. “It seems you can be trained.”
“Shut up.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Shit, I can’t believe we did that.”
I stand and drag him up by his hand. “What? Make you come in the back of an alleyway?”
“Yep. That.” Arlo rubs the back of his neck, looking around, searching for something. Or someone. But she’s gone. “Let me guess. You’re going to go back to being a cunt, and I’ve got to pretend to ignore the fact it hurts?”
I wasn’t expecting him to be brutally honest, but Arlo is nothing if not exactly that—honest. In every way possible.
“I’ve watched you lick up your own cum, Arlo. I don’t think we’ll be going back to normal.”
He looks at me suspiciously, and I know he doesn’t believe me.
I’d convinced myself that I’d be too much for Arlo, that I’d hurt him or break his heart, but maybe his brain is fucked-up too.
After everything that happened, the trauma he was put through, the fear he felt for a considerable time before he understood why I did what I did when we were teenagers, it all convinced me I’d never be good for anything other than his protection.
He’s always been the sunshine in the room, but he can be shy about his emotions, and he gets defensive if he thinks his heart is at risk.
Which it was. I did reject him before, and I did hurt him.
“I can’t promise I’ll be perfect,” I admit quietly.
“I’ve never asked you for perfect, Micha. I’m pretty sure I asked you to not be a total dick.”
“I’ll try, but it’s going to be really hard now that I know you’re a freaky little boy with a pain kink and an obsession with some circus monster.”
He rolls his eyes, looking back down at the alleyway where we found said circus monster before. The body is still there—I think Arlo and I both forgot that part, too consumed in lust.
I haven’t really acknowledged the fact we found the circus girl eating some dead woman.
I froze when she targeted Arlo. If she had hurt him… I don’t know what I would have done.
“What are you thinking, Pipsqueak?”
“We were supposed to confront her, but she confronted us.” He shivers from the sight of the dead body. Blood still freaks him out since that day. The worst day of our lives.
“I wouldn’t exactly say ‘confronted’. More like attacked.”
“Regardless, we’re no closer to understanding what she is or what she wants.”
“So?” I ask as he slowly starts walking out of the alley. “Didn’t you hear her? She said she would ‘eat you alive’ the next time she sees you, Arlo.”
“She also said my ‘hard cock saved me’. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”
“Maybe she fancies you too,” I tease, elbowing him in the side, but he’s quick to shove me away. He thinks I don’t see his little smile, and it’s now I realise which direction he’s walking in. “Wait, are you going to the circus?”
“It was you who suggested we go in the first place. You said it yourself; they’re here for another two weeks. So unless we hide out for two weeks, we may as well bite the bullet.”
He has a point, but even I was freaked out after what we saw in the alley. Arlo has bigger balls than I gave him credit for.
The showground doesn’t take us long to reach. Without the lights and music, it somehow manages to look even creepier, which I didn’t think was possible. There isn’t anyone lingering around, and I’m secretly happy there aren’t any clowns out front. Arlo knows I don’t like clowns.
He pulls back the tent entrance that we walked through days ago. “Do we just… waltz in?”
“How about you check if it’s empty first, genuis?”
He narrows his eyes on me before slipping his head inside. “Yeah, it’s empty.”
We cross the dirt path between the towering bench stands. It feels colossal now it’s free of other people, and the tall peak in the centre of the show ring disappears into darkness.
When we walk into the ring, Arlo spins in a circle. “Where do you think she’ll be?”
“Sssshh.”
We jerk at the sudden, foreign sound, stepping back and slamming into each other. Arlo mutters, “Fuck,” and rubs the back of his head. I drag him to my side with an arm around his waist. I won’t hesitate like I did last time.
“You sssshouldn’t be here,” the husky, feminine voice whispers, the noise somehow both loud and quiet. “Get out.”
“No,” Arlo whisper-shouts back, looking blindly for those glowing green orbs. He keeps spinning on the spot, eyes wide and examining, but we can’t see anything. “We want to talk to you. We won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt us.”
“You hurt me?” She laughs, but the noise doesn’t sound right. Like it’s broken. “Funny boyssss.”
“You’ve been stalking us,” I finally say, still trying to locate where exactly her voice is coming from. It sounds like it’s enveloping us.
“You are interesssting to watch. But you ssshouldn’t have come here.”
“Can you tell us what you want?” Arlo asks.
There’s a long pause before she says, “I want many thingsss that I ssshouldn’t.”
“Like what?”
Another long pause. “Get out. You are not wanted here. And I am finding it hard to control mysssself.”
“Control yourself from what? And where are you?”
“From you two. And I am hiding from Ssssspiral.”