Love, Centre Ring

Part 3


Things were no different the following day when Troy returned to the animal compound for his second day before the duty roster changed. Last night he had stayed near the back stage entry instead of leaving with his family after their performance so he could watch Aaron’s act. He had seen it before but this time he found himself carefully assessing every movement, every gesture.

Aaron’s act was the last of the elephants’ performance, Jubal slowly striding into the centre ring, dancing girls dressed in brightly colored spangled harem costumes twirling around him like colorful butterflies as the other elephants parted, three going in one direction, two in the other to enter the two secondary rings at the side. Although they would continue to perform, all the focus would be on Aaron and Jubal for their performance.

Watching so closely gave Troy a greater appreciation of his strange work colleague. That level of skill and perfect timing didn’t come naturally or over night. It was due to long hours of hard work and dedication, made even harder when working with animals because of the need to build such high levels of trust between man and beast. That bond was only too clearly evident when watching the flawless performance they gave to the audience who showed their appreciation with a crescendo of applause as they exited the ring.

Troy pushed the four-foot wide broom across the animal enclosure’s dirt-packed floor collecting the scattering of straw and general refuse. He ignored the dust irritating his nose and throat, ignored the itchiness prickling his exposed skin. There was no point complaining and if he stopped now, what was the purpose – the job still had to be done. So, he kept going.

He finally reached the doorway, giving a final shove to push the pile of debris consisting of straw, old ticket stubs, the odd empty drink cup, and numerous other bits and pieces either discarded by the public or blown in by the wind, outside the tent door for collection later. Leaning on the broom, he took a deep breath. His shoulders were burning a little. There was no mistaking this was strenuous work, especially two days in a row and in this hot weather. If anything, it seemed the temperatures were rising each day.

He wiped the sweat from his eyes and looked to the right where Aaron still worked, swinging a pitchfork with ease, the hay spreading out in a sweeping motion to settle lightly on the floor. He didn’t seem worried by the itchiness in the least, working shirtless. Troy absently scratched at his chest, feeling the grittiness against his skin even under his top. Perhaps it was actually better to be without a shirt.

Aaron continued, methodically layering the compound in fresh straw. Troy was mesmerized, unable to take his eyes off that figure. He had noticed Aaron’s shoulder length light-brown hair was sun-bleached, creating blond tips. Although he was paler in skin tone than Troy, he was tanned a golden hue that under the Big Top’s blazing lights made his skin glow, sweat drops sparkling like crystals. His bright green eyes were like chiseled peridot gems – sharp and clear. Troy was drawn to those eyes; possibly because their gaze was so distant, yet so sad.

His gaze followed Aaron’s sweeping throw, watching the play of muscles that rippled across shoulders, the bulge of biceps and triceps during the motion. He admired the way Aaron’s bare torso gleamed, with the sheen of sweat catching the light. He could see the outline of ribs at his full extension, the taut stomach showing defined abdominal muscles. Aaron was all lean whipcord muscles, sleek and agile, reminding Troy of one of the big cats, perhaps a panther with their clear defined lines.

Aaron threw the last of the bale he’d been working on and reached out with the pitchfork to snag and heave a second one close. He pulled out a knife and bent over to cut the baling twine. Troy’s gaze traveled down the spine of Aaron’s curved back, each vertebrae visible, reaching the dip of the lower back and then further to where the baggy jeans had slid lower, revealing the top of Aaron’s briefs.

Troy flushed as he felt himself grow hard and swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. What the hell was wrong with him? He swallowed again but still could not drag his eyes away as Aaron straightened, slipping the pocket knife into his back pocket once more. For a brief moment, he reached up with one hand and pushed sweaty hair plastered to his brow away from his face. This action showed off his body to perfection in Troy’s eyes.

What he was unprepared for was the feeling of intense lust that hit him, going straight to his groin. His hard-on strained against his jeans uncomfortably as he unconsciously dropped one hand to the bulge, a groan escaping him. Shit, what the hell was going on?

“Hey, Troy!”

The shout startled him, making him jump and turn around to see Reagan coming towards him. He could feel his face flushed with embarrassment, tugging his shirt down low and holding his hands in an attempt to hide the erection pressing into his leg.

Reagan stopped before him and looked closely at his face. “You feeling okay? You’re a little red.”

“I’m fine,” he said, hoping he sounded normal. He wished Reagan would just be on his way.

“Look, why don’t you call it a day?”

“But I haven’t finished,” Troy began and then snapped his mouth shut. Why was he trying to stay longer? No-one wanted to do this job in the first place and he was no exception.

“It doesn’t matter. You’ve done plenty and we’re nearly finished. Aaron and I can finish up today. You’d better rest up a bit before tonight’s performance. I’d hate to see you pass out from this heat because I over-worked you this afternoon.”

“But…”

Reagan waved him silent, taking the broom from his hands. “Go on. Get out of here.”

“All right,” Troy said, now only thinking of the escape he wanted. He glanced back briefly to where Aaron continued working.

Aaron was now facing towards Troy, so he had a clear full view of his torso. Troy could see the play of muscles with every swing, the darker nubs of Aaron’s nipples against his pale skin. His erection, which had begun to flag a little, now flared anew with burning heat and he swallowed a moan of discomfort.

“I’ll…see you later then,” he managed to stutter as he turned and headed for the exit, his only desire now was to get out of there and to seek some privacy. The swelling of his erection was becoming almost painful.

“You’ve done a good job,” Reagan called out. “Would you be willing help out again?”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” Troy called back with only half a thought about what he was answering.

If he could have run he would have, but the erection confined in his jeans made that impossible although walking proved just as painful, every motion creating additional pressure and friction, stimulating him further. He was panting by the time he reached the trailer, fumbling with the door and almost falling inside before pulling it shut.

“Steady there. What’s up?” Johan said, reaching out to half catch his younger brother.

“Nothing,” Troy muttered, shaking off the helping hand and stumbling towards the bathroom.

“You’re sure? You don’t look well.” Johan sounded concerned.

“I’m fine! Just let me be!” Troy snapped as he flung himself into the tiny toilet cubicle.

His hands shook as he fumbled with the button of his jeans, yanking the zip down forcibly. His stiff erection jutted upright, forcing itself past the top of his briefs, the very tip visible, slit slick with precum already.

The sight of it made him groan as he wrapped one hand around the shaft and his other pushed down past the material. The heat of his own flesh touching himself sent a shudder through his body. He closed his eyes as his head tipped back to lean against the wall. He braced his feet apart as he began to stroke himself. He needed no extra lubrication as the palm of his hand curled over the head and collected sweat and another trickle of precum that made his hand easily slide down the length. He groaned, not trying to smother the sound, the relief too great, the stimulation too intense.

A knock on the door startled him.

“Troy?” He heard Johan’s voice through the door. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“For fuck’s sake! Give me some peace!” he shouted, his burst of anger making his grip tighten on his cock, causing him to groan again.

“Ah,” he heard Johan’s muffled response and then the sounds of footsteps moving away followed by the closing of the trailer door.

He hadn’t meant to snap. He knew his brother was simply concerned. He’d apologize later. He couldn’t even feel embarrassed knowing that Johan had probably figured out what he was doing.

His hands continued to stroke, strong fingers firmly moving over flesh, kneading, squeezing, coaxing, drawing out flashes of pleasure and desire. An image rose in his mind of Aaron as he reached up to brush his hair away from his face, muscles defined, nipples hard and jutting out. In Troy’s mind, Aaron’s other hand ran down his long neck, sliding down the pale column, past the collarbone, drawing outwards across his chest, then running down over his exposed nipple.

Troy groaned and his hand began to move faster. The image of Aaron remained fixed in his mind, making him feel hotter and hotter. What is wrong with me, he half-wondered, even as he continued to pleasure himself and another groan fell from his lips. He could feel the sweat on his brow, gasping as he felt his cock harden further, the tightness building in his testicles. He increased the pace. He was panting in earnest now, his toes tensing in his shoes, his legs quivering. Pressure continued to build, drawing deep into his belly and he tipped his head back further, neck straining as he squeezed his eyes shut tightly and with a hoarse muffled shout he came, white hot liquid filling the palm of his hand cupped over the head of his cock.

His hips jerked as he felt his cock pulse again through his other hand still wrapped around the shaft. He took a deep breath, his racing heart slowly easing, no longer pounding painfully against his chest. After a few moments more, he took a final deep calming breath and eased one hand away from his now flaccid cock, reaching out to tear off a wad of toilet paper. He carefully wiped away the pooled semen in his hand, meticulously ensuring he removed all traces even from between his fingers. He flushed the toilet, removing the evidence then washing his hands at the basin, rinsing them well and drying them. He pulled his clothes into order, then on unsteady legs walked out of the bathroom to his bunk.

He let his body fall limply to the covers, rolling onto his back to stare at the bunk above. He felt drained, more exhausted than he usually was even after a hard practice session. He took another deep breath, trying to gain his equilibrium. He’d never had such an intense experience before. He’d masturbated plenty of times; that wasn’t unusual and sure, he’d get hard over plenty of things. But he’d never been like that – where the intensity of pleasure was so close to being pain that he thought it would drive him mad. Why had that happened then? He’d just been minding his own business, doing his work. Perhaps he was too over-excited and stimulated because he’d been doing it with that girl for four nights running and then suddenly stopped. He draped an arm across his eyes. Yeah, that was probably it. All he had to do is concentrate on his job and forget all about it.

He rolled over, feeling exceedingly weary now. Yes, he’d be fine. But an image of Aaron slipped into his mind and made his heart race once more.