Eyes Closed

With my eyes closed, he looks just like you.

Chapter 29 extended scene. Word count: 2455

Rated M for Mature. Contains a seriously adult scene.

…

"Joker!" My voice sounded too weak to be called a shout. A pitiful cry, really. Afraid of being heard. Afraid of not being heard.

His strides never hesitated. He just lifted a hand in farewell, with careless, "Night," called over his shoulder.

The tents which lined the alley were only for storage. I could feel the lack of human life as it pressed in around me. Good. No one around to see my humiliation at being rejected yet again. The chill night air numbed my skin. A wistful thought crossed my mind of maybe, just maybe, if I stayed out long enough it would numb the ache in my heart as well. Was that what they called poetic?

I lifted my hands to the scarf he had wrapped around my neck and brought it closer to my face, to my lips. It smelled of him and my throat constricted as I blinked hard. Tears hit the wool and rolled off. The scarf really was just a collar, wasn't it? A gift for being a good girl and staying put as I was told. And I would. I would stay right there until he returned. I bowed my head and rubbed the tears away with the scarf. I didn't care if my heavy makeup smeared on it.

A smooth male voice said behind me, "Dear oh dear, are those tears I spy?"

I jerked up straight. The shadow of a man crouched on top of a traveling cage. It took a moment to focus on his face. Black, the newcomer.

"You!" I snapped. I should have known, the man had done nothing but invade my space since he had the run-in with Betty. I turned away, as if he couldn't have missed my tears. "This's naught to do with you," I said, my accent thick from anger. "You'll get lost quick if you know what's good for you."

He laughed softly. "You do not have even a passing chance there, if you ask me."

"What'd you know—" my reply turned into a yelp when I could feel he suddenly stood right behind me. What did he do? Leap off of the cage?

"It is useless to have your heart set on someone like him and no other," Black said. "He cannot return your affections, but still is kind to you, even though he knows doing so will make you suffer even more." He stroked the scarf. "How cruel."

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed his nails were dark. I wondered if they were bruised or painted that way.

He asked, "Just how long have you been carrying on like this? With these unhappy tears and a relationship that only gives rise to maudlin sentiment?"

He talked too much and clearly didn't expect an answer. His words were elegant. People didn't talk like that around the circus. He was close, the first time a man had approached me, instead of the other way around, in a long time. My heart started to thud in my throat. Which meant he needed to back off.

"What the bloody hell d'you understand?" I spun away and let loose a fist towards his pretty face.

He dodged the swing easily, and was behind me again. He caught my wrist with a hand strangely still clad in a white glove.

"Not a jot, as of yet," he said, "But there is something I do know. A way to release you from that pain, if only for a moment." He kept me still with his other hand on my opposite forearm.

I struggled anyway. "Enough of your joking. Let me go!"

"I am not joking," he said into my ear, the breath hot against my cold skin. "What use is there in letting your hurts accumulate? The weight of those emotions keeps you from moving either forward or back."

The bare hand had snaked across my ribcage and dipped dangerously low for a moment, before coming up between my breasts.

Lips at my ear again, he murmured, "Regardless how you shout, he will never look back. You poor thing." My tongue wouldn't respond as he continued, "It hurts, yes?"

It does.

"You want to push it all from your mind, do you not?"

And why will you do that for me?

"Everything about that kind-and-cruel man."

I get the feeling there is nothing kind about you, Black.

He intertwined his gloved fingers with mine, and the bare hand closed around my throat. No pressure, but instinct told me this man could snap my neck with ease. Then why was my resolve of going to bed alone weakening? My comebacks—if I ever had any at all—were reduced to a quiet, "I—"

"Why not forget just for tonight?" he cut me off. "Drown in pleasure, and breathe sweet poison deep into your lungs."

Tears flowed down my cheeks again. I mourned the relationship with Joker that was never meant to be. The scarf slid off my neck and tangled around my feet.

"You're like the devil," I said, my voice hoarse, "Talking in whispers."

His hand slid to my collarbone, his breath lowered to my neck.

"I only want to know," Black murmured, "that secret place deep inside you."

…

A loose piece of canvas flapped next to me. Such a normal sound but I still skittered into Black behind me. His hand on my back steadied me. What if someone saw us like this? The rumors would be floating around in the morning: "Oh yes, Beast was seen taking one of the newcomers to her quarters to be broken in…"

We ducked into my tent. I had left my lamp lit and it was the final chance to be caught. Someone could be waiting for my return. When I surveyed the empty tent with everything where I had left it, my body finally uncoiled.

I turned towards him and slowly sank onto my bed, a straw stuffed mattress on the ground. Easier to travel with. I had heard Joker had a real bed. I had never been invited to it.

Black knelt before me. He gracefully removed my shoes. My fishnet stockings went next. His fingers lingered on my upper thigh—my real one—for a moment too long.

What the hell was I doing here?

He saw me flinch. "You could talk if you're nervous," he said, his voice soft, maybe teasing.

I wasn't virgin-nervous. It was just a type of it-has-been-awhile nervous. I hadn't taken a lover to bed since Joker had taken over the Noah's Ark Troupe. I found myself talking, answering Black's odd questions as he removed his jacket but left his shirt and vest on. The conversation turned to Joker, that man I just couldn't escape.

"It's been this way for as long as I can remember," I said. "He just never says the words I long to hear. He got even more distant when Father put him in charge of the Noah's Ark Troupe."

"Father?" Black said, a question. He slid my skirt up around my hips. The fact we were still almost fully clothed showed the mindset of the affair. Not a business transaction. Not love. I had told myself I was done with one-night-stands, but I was so good at keeping promises.

I ended up twisted, half on my stomach. "Our patron," I said. My breath hitched as he caressed my inner thighs. He paused from going higher, so I continued, "He aided in the development of our artificial limbs and granted us new bodies."

"Then this belongs to father?" he asked, his long fingers shifting to my thigh again—but this time the artificial one—and touched the emblem marked there.

"That's right," I said. "We all belong to Father."

"What is his name?"

"Why do you want to know?"

I gasped when he pressed two gloved fingers into me. I could feel the silk as it soaked up my arousal. The friction made me bite my lip to prevent myself from crying out. Black was speaking. I tried to focus on his words, turning onto my chest again and digging my fingers into the cotton sheet.

"I cannot greet him properly if I do not even know his name," he said. "You and I are no longer mere acquaintances, after all." A twist and hook of his fingers inside me strengthened his last remark. "So you can tell me, can't you?"

"Father is…" I started. A shudder throughout my body shook my words loose. "Baron Kelvin."

He hummed in approval. I had a deep, unshakable feeling it was the only thing he had come for. No, that was just madness. My thoughts quivered with another stroke of his fingers. What could a simple, former butler do with Father's name?

My fears were confirmed when his fingers were pulled from me without ceremony.

"You do not want me to stay too long, correct?" he said as he leaned over me, speaking softly into my ear. Before I could respond, he had stood up.

I flipped over. "That's it then?" I asked. He paused in the process of picking up his jacket, which had become twisted with mine. I wondered, for a brief moment, what had happened to the scarf. I must have left it outside, where Joker had left me. "You in a habit of not finishin' what you started?"

A slight, nay, sly smile appeared on his face. "You are a demanding one."

"I just never met a man where him being pleased wasn't put first."

"Perhaps pleasuring you was enough for me."

"Well, it wasn't enough for me," I said. I stood up, glad I had left my artificial leg on. With not-quite-steady hands I undid the buttons on my skirt and let it fall around my ankles. I stepped free of it as I loosened the laces around my bosom and shed my top. He watched, detached. I had hoped for a spark of lust, at least.

When I was nude, I met his eyes levelly. I was comfortable with my body. I had used it many times to get what I wanted. I pushed aside the uninvited thought of Joker. It had almost always gotten me what I wanted. Today it would work. This man hadn't originally been on my list of things I had to have. But I knew I could do much, much worse.

I watched him remove his vest and undo the buttons of his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders. He was refined, his body trim, and I suddenly wondered if I was worthy of him.

Instead of continuing to undress, he picked me up with ease and I was placed back on the bed gently. I knew I weighed more than I looked because of the leg, but it was like he had exerted the same effort it would take to pick up Doll.

"I will complete this for you," he said as he unbuttoned his trousers, "and be gone in the morning, as a good incubus does."

"I don't know what that means," I said.

He laughed softly as he blew out the lamp and knelt onto the bed next to me. "It means you can imagine me as whoever you desire," he said. "I don't mind."

I could barely see him, and wished he had left the lamp. My tent walls were a heavy canvas that didn't cast shadows. I had made sure of it a long time ago.

Would Joker have allowed me to kiss him? I sought out his lips. For a moment, I thought he would move away, but he took the kiss and the control along with it. His hands moved smoothly and firmly across my skin, the one with the glove damp, but the bare one's touch felt cool too. His mouth, however, was hot against mine, demanding and unyielding.

A hand found its way between my legs again, and my back arched against him. The rush left me breathless and pebbled my skin.

We were hushed; the walls of my tent were just canvas, after all. Or it was more like I was the one trying to be as quiet as possible, which wasn't working with my involuntary gasps. He didn't seem to be having trouble keeping silent. Even his breathing was not labored like mine.

I had to quit worrying. I would know in the morning by any curious looks if any of the members of the troupe had been out of their beds. They didn't care who I was bringing to my bed. I had to admit I only cared because it wasn't Joker.

My thighs were parted, and he entered me. All I could see of him was a dark outline, and even that might have been in my head. So maybe, just for a moment, I could imagine he was someone else. I closed my eyes as I clenched around him and rocked my hips. Though it didn't seem to get a response from him, I could believe there had been something. It was enough for me: a release, a relief. Both of his hands started at my breasts and traveled down my sides, just enough pressure to leave phantom trails on my skin with his fingernails.

Of when he had shed the lone glove, I had no idea.

…

I wanted to say something cheeky—had it been worth his while staying, perhaps—but the words wouldn't come.

He was out of the bed quickly. There would be no after sex cool-down, though I hadn't really expected it. He just didn't seem to be the cuddling type. I wondered if Joker would have stayed.

I could hear the soft rustle of clothing as he dressed. He had never fully removed his trousers, so it was quick work. I felt him lean down to me, and to my surprise brushed his lips against my forehead.

"Was it good for you?" he asked, stealing my line with soft laughter in his voice.

So all I could do was nod. I believed he could see, or maybe just felt the movement.

I considered pulling the quilt over me, but I ended up just closing my eyes after I heard the flaps of my tent move aside and be secured again. I would be cold sometime during the night, but at the moment I was still heated from the feel of his body against mine.

I had enjoyed myself, but I hazily thought, for some reason, I would regret it tomorrow.