Love, Centre Ring

Title: Love, Centre Ring
Author: JadeHeart
Fandom: Original
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: sexual situations, male/male relationship

Summary: The circus is a place of illusion and fantasy, so are the feelings that Troy is beginning to have towards the aloof Aaron real or part of this dream-world? Battling his own burgeoning emotions, the difficulty of breaking through Aaron’s strong defences, and standing up to his rival, Jubal, Aaron’s elephant partner, Troy has more than enough to contend with!

Many thanks to the wonderful beta-ing by Aja and bakayaro_onna.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters in this are solely of my own creation. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

-oOo-

Part 1


“What are you doing?! Hold it longer!”

Troy held back another yawn as he pulled his mind back from its wanderings and tightened muscles, locking knees in place as he supported the weight across his shoulders. His body strained but he ignored it; it wasn’t like it wasn’t used to this.

“That’s it,” the voice called out. “That’s it. Now!”

The pressure increased on his shoulders for an instant then returned to what it had been. It happened a second time, and then it was completely gone. He finally allowed his muscles to relax, reminding them that they must go from that instance of strength and tautness to flexible looseness. He let himself go and allowed his body to flow through the long learnt motions and it was suddenly all over.

Clapping was heard from the side. “Good,” a voice roared out as his father drew into view.

Troy took a deep breath, releasing it fully as he reached up to rub at his shoulders. They didn’t hurt but it was an automatic habit. He rolled his shoulders, then neck, before shaking each leg out as he walked around, sawdust lightly kicking up as he stamped his feet.

“That was better that time. Let’s do it again.”

“Come on, Da,” Ranford spoke up from where he squatted. “Can’t you give us a break? It’s hot!” Even with the tent flaps drawn up there was barely a breeze to circulate the captured heated air.

His father frowned at his second eldest son, bushy dark brows drawing down. “If you can’t do this correctly you will break something. Just remember that!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ranford said with a long suffering sigh even as he turned to move back to position.

“Why did you even bother saying anything?” Troy’s oldest brother Pietre asked, frowning and, for a moment, looking almost like their father minus the prominent eyebrows and dark beard.

“Because Ran always thinks one day he might actually get out of practice,” Johan, the third eldest said, looking up from where his head rested on his knees as he brushed the floor with his hands, stretching.

Pietre snorted in amusement. “As if! There’s no way he would ever convince Da to let him do that!”

Troy yawned again as he listened to his brothers’ banter, turning away so his father wouldn’t notice. Despite what was being said they all began to fall back into position to repeat the act.

Standing in a line like this there was no mistaking they were family. They all took after their father, his Mediterranean ancestry gracing them with a deep olive skin tone, dark hair and deep brown eyes.

As Serge took his place as anchorman, Ranford stood next to Troy. “How are you holding up?” he asked, looking at his youngest brother.

“Fine,” Troy replied as first Pietre, and then a cousin ran forward, one after the other, to springboard onto the shoulders of the other, Serge bearing their additional weight with what seemed like ease. Troy let out another yawn and Ranford grinned at him.

“Don’t let Da catch you sneaking out at night after performances,” he tossed back as he took his turn, leaping high and making a perfect landing on his cousin’s shoulders.

Ranford was right; he should be more careful. However, the girl he’d met four nights ago was really cute and pretty. He was fully aware that she was simply dazzled by the bright lights, sparkling costumes, and air of enchantment that filled every circus performance and it wasn’t really about falling in love with him. The knowledge that the circus would move on soon and that this was no more than a fleeting liaison only added extra spice to the experience for her. He had been more than happy to pander to this fantasy. It wasn’t exactly the first time this had happened. What could he say? He was a healthy nineteen year old male. His other physical attributes naturally brought him the attention of many a female. He had grown and filled out during the past two years, finally reaching six foot, with a lean muscled body kept toned from his constant practice. His hair he kept cropped short apart from his fringe, which was slicked back during performances, but left alone fell forward to hang in a thin veil over his dark, almost black eyes. Even he knew he looked pretty damn good!

His brother Johan executed his run whilst Troy took a deep steadying breath before taking his turn. He couldn’t say he wasn’t enjoying this dalliance. The adoration never grew old at this time in his hormone-filled life although he was getting a little tired due to the extracurricular exertion each night.

He felt his foot slip on his spring and knew he was going to land unevenly. He whistled as he turned, warning his teammates to brace themselves. He did land unevenly, his weight thrown to the right and he could feel the human pillar lean, steady and then right itself all in a heartbeat.

He didn’t have any time for thanks as he braced himself correctly on his brother’s shoulders as the next troupe member landed on his, soon to be followed by the last.

The human tower held, then the command was given “Dismount!”, and one by one they left their brethren to land singularly on the sawdust.

“Well done,” their father said. “That’s it for today. Clean up and finish your chores.”

“Finally!” Ranford said, reaching up and wiping the sweat from his brow with his wrist band. “I’m going to be glad for night when it will at least be a little cooler.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Johan said, walking away. “I heard the radio say that these temperatures are likely to remain even into the evening.”

“Aw man, that sucks,” Ranford moaned. He elbowed Troy. “Hey, why don’t we sneak out and head for the river, huh?”

Troy didn’t look up from where he had bent to remove his slippers. “Don’t get me involved in your schemes,” he said firmly. Gone were the days when he allowed his older brother to lead him around by the nose. Besides he’d agreed to meet up with his girl later today.

“Geesh, you’re boring since you grew up!” Ranford huffed, scowling.

“Hurry up, you lot,” Pietre called out. “You’ll catch it from the Master if you don’t get on with things.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ranford replied, using his common expression of suffering. “Man, first Da working us like dogs and now we’ve still got to clean up. Can’t we have a siesta instead in this heat?” He called out to Serge. “Hey, Uncle! Why don’t you tell the Master that we’ll all do our chores when it cools down?”

“Why don’t you start digging your own grave?” Serge shouted back, heading out with his sons trailing after, grinning.

Ranford shrugged. “Maybe I should get Da to ask instead?”

“Why don’t I feed you to the lions instead and save the Master the trouble?” a deep voice said directly behind them.

Ranford and Troy jumped in surprise, finding their father standing at hand. “Ah, Da, didn’t see you there,” Ranford said a little sheepishly.

Their father shook his head sadly. “Why is it that I was given such an idiot son?” he said mournfully, looking directly at Ranford. “My only blessing was that such a mistake was rectified in the ones following,” smiling now at Troy.

“Oh, don’t stress, Da,” Ranford said cheerily, clapping his father on the shoulder with a grin. “I was given to you so you wouldn’t get bored with only having good sons!”

Their father sighed and raised his hands as though in prayer, lifting his eyes to the tent ceiling. “Lord, grant me patience to deal with this problem child and the strength to resist strangling him!”

Ranford laughed as he turned and walked away, giving a wink to Troy. “Remember I can run faster than you, Da!” he called out.

“Then how about running that fast to check out your roster and getting your chores done instead of slacking off!”

“On my way,” and Ranford jogged out with a cheery wave back towards them.

Troy looked at his father as he chuckled. “That one really is a handful,” he said, though even Troy could hear the pride in his father’s voice. That was something none of the brothers ever doubted - that their father was proud of them. Just knowing that always made them want to do better.

“And what of you?”

His father’s sudden question surprised him. “Me?” he repeated. “What about me?”

“You made mistakes today,” his father said. “Too many mistakes. Is something the matter?”

Troy felt himself flush, embarrassed for worrying his father. “Nothing’s wrong, Da. I just lost concentration for a bit.”

“Troy,” His father reached out, resting large hands on his son’s shoulders. “Troy, don’t let yourself be distracted,” he said seriously, looking Troy directly in the eye. “During practice or performance you cannot afford not to be focused solely on what you are doing. Your teammates may be able to protect you from yourself to some degree but they cannot do the impossible. And remember, you put not just yourself at risk by your inattention.”

Troy felt smaller with every word his father said. He knew it was nothing but the truth. He had been acting recklessly these last few days, selfishly thinking only of his own pleasure. Even though Ranford and most likely his other brothers at least had known what he was doing, none had chastised him for it. They had instead trusted him to come to his own decision on what would be best. He knew what he should do – he was just a little slow in getting to it.

“Go on then,” his father slapped his shoulder and turned away. “You have duties to complete.”

“Thanks, Da,” Troy said sincerely. “I promise I will do my best.”

“That’s all I ask,” his father replied, walking away.

Troy turned and made his way to his trailer, still thinking about what his father had said. He was completely right. He’d been acting stupidly and let himself be completely carried away by his libido. Reaching the trailer, he didn’t hear the sound of running water and found it empty so he gathered his brothers had already washed up and returned to their duties. It was a tight fit when all three of them were present and vying for the bathroom.

He quickly stripped off his clothes and stepped under the warm water, rubbing hands briskly over his lean body, strong fingers automatically massaging firm, well-defined muscles as he went. It was always important to do this even after practice, the warmth and massage ensuring that no injury could come to hard-worked muscles. After he dried off, he rubbed lotion over long lean limbs, keeping skin supple. This wasn’t vanity but necessity also, and as he had been doing this since he was four, it was completely second nature.

He rubbed a towel briefly over his short hair, pushing back the longer fringe from his eyes. He wondered if there would be any trouble tonight when he didn’t meet that girl as planned. The last thing he wanted was for there to be a scene. He raked his fingers absently through his still damp hair, frowning. If there was trouble, it would be his own fault certainly, but he would still rather avoid it.

Although practice was over and the show didn’t begin until eight that evening, there was still plenty to do. Everyone who belonged to the circus was expected to do their part and more as required so, dressed in old jeans and tank top, he left the trailer and crossed the compound, heading for the notice board in the small marquee attached to the Master’s trailer.

“Yo, Troy!” a voice called out.

He looked over and waved to two men, ordinary-looking in every way, walking past, planks of scaffolding supported on their shoulders. Looking at them, you would never know they were two of the show’s clowns, one an expert contortionist.

“What did you do to piss off the Master?” they called out.

“Nothing,” he called back. “Why?”

They laughed. “You’ll see,” and they continued on their way.

Great, he thought, hurrying his steps. That doesn’t bode well.

He reached the marquee and scanned the rosters. Everyone was expected to help out on site. Performers were not asked to do tasks they were not trained for or things that could potentially damage their abilities to perform but they were also not treated like prima donnas either, allowed to swan around with nothing better to do between performances. So the Master created a roster of tasks requiring attention and personnel nominated to assist.

Troy looked down the list. He couldn’t recall doing anything to upset the Master lately. In fact, he hadn’t done so for quite some years. He liked to think he had matured since then. If anything, it was usually Ranford who still managed to incur the Master’s silent wrath, scoring latrine duty more than once and other equally unsavory tasks. In the past Troy had shared those very tasks by his brother’s side but he had made an effort to avoid doing so since.

He finally found his name and ran his finger across the line and paused when it reached the allotted task. Damn, what had he done to piss the Master off?