This fic was inspired by a conversation had several months ago on the psychowatsits server regarding how Augustus and Donatella got together. The idea was that they were from different circuses, and that Donatella and Augustus's relationship started out as a rivalry.
This is explicit porn so if so do not continue if you don't want to read about Augustus' trip to Bone City
She wasn't in her seat.
Dead center in the third row, second box down from the right of the entrance. That was where Donatella always sat, ever since their little competition had started, where she had been sitting only minutes before, with her arms crossed over her chest and mouth set in a straight, unreadable line.
If she wasn't in her seat, then she wasn't in the tent. Augustus knew this, and yet he found himself scanning the other boxes anyway, absently waving to the cheering crowd as he searched for a tall woman with long, dark red hair pulled back in a ponytail. It must have been obvious that his mind wasn't wholly focused on the audience, because one of his sisters discreetly sent an elbow right into his ribs without glancing at him or losing the bright grin on her face.
Augustus mustered up something that resembled a smile and waved with a little more enthusiasm. No matter how complex their acrobatics routine was during the performance, this part was always the most difficult for him. The collective thoughts of the audience- whether amazed or angry with the quality of the show- were always streaming into his head at this time, as loudly as their cheers, and the resulting cacophony was something he had never been able to get used to, even with years of performing under his belt. He'd learn to grin and bear it, but lately he'd noticed that focusing in on Donatella seemed to drown out some of the mental noise, as though her thoughts (mostly criticism, with some scant praise here and there) were somehow stronger than the rest of the jeers and cheers ringing through his head.
It appeared that she had departed early this evening- he would have spotted her by now; a woman with her tall, lean statue tended to stand out, even in a crowd like this one. He tried not to feel hurt, but the disappointment welled up inside him anyway. Tonight's show had been perfect, without a single miscalculated jump or incorrectly timed turn marring the performance. He and his siblings had been in top form tonight, even he, as overly-critical of himself as he was, had seen that, and there was no doubt in his mind that she had seen it too. Augustus, of course, hadn't expected to see her standing up and applauding him with the same zeal as the rest of the audience, but he had thought that he had at least been worthy of her smile, that close-lipped smile with one corner of her lips lifted slightly higher than the other, the smile that had been haunting his dreams as of late and made his heart flutter with excitement every time he thought of it.
He cast a quick glance at the back flap of the tent and hoped that he hadn't seen her because she was already waiting for him at their usual meet-up spot.
An hour later his oldest younger brother clapped him on the shoulder and told him to take the rest of the night off.
"I've got it tonight," Georgi said as he led Augustus away from the big top, which was in the process of being dismantled. "You just go back to the caravan, yeah?"
Augustus regarded his brother with suspicion. Georgi, while an excellent acrobat and talented performer, rarely helped clean up after a show and had never been one to take on extra work if he could avoid it. He hadn't even changed out of his costume, Augustus noticed, comparing the glittering outfit to his own plain, rough practice tights. "Why are you volunteering to work like this?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Georgi put on an expression of feigned hurt. "I can't offer my favorite oldest brother a break?" he said, placing his hand over his heart. "Do you think that little of me?"
"Yes."
Georgi scoffed, waving away Augustus' suspicions with an airy flick of his wrist. "Maybe I'm feeling generous tonight because the show was so good," he said, picking up the pace, practically dragging Augustus along with him. "Really, Gus, it's fine. Go back to the caravan."
Augustus did not believe this at all, knowing that Georgi had an ulterior motive for offering to work in his place. He guessed that this motive involved a woman somehow. With his thick, dark hair and clean-shaven good looks, Georgi was easily the most popular member of their troupe, and there was always at least one female fan willing to sneak off with him after the show.
("He's so pretty that he's boring," Donatella had said of him one night. Her eyes, sparkling and green, met his and held his gaze. "I prefer rougher-looking men, personally."
"Huh," Augustus had replied eloquently before looking away.)
He supposed that he could have just read Georgi's mind if he wanted to find out why he was being so solicitous. The idea was discarded immediately; he was just as likely to give himself a headache as he was to find out what Georgi was up to, and in truth, he didn't really want to know what sort of trouble his brother was planning on getting into. He shrugged and offered up no further protest. "Just make sure that at least some of the work is done before you go off and do whatever it is you're really planning on doing."
Georgi rolled his eyes and gave him a quick punch on the arm. "I'm not planning on doing anything other than working very hard on cleaning up." He leaned in, a conspiratol gleam in his dark eyes. "In fact, I'm going to do such a thorough job that I'm sure I'll be gone for hours." He grinned and raised his eyebrows salaciously. "Maybe all night," he said, adding extra emphasis to the word 'night.'
Augustus stared at him, officially weirded out by the way Georgi was behaving. "Uh, ok," he said, backing away towards the caravans. "I won't wait up then. Goodnight, and uh, thanks."
The grin hadn't left Georgi's face. "Goodnight, bro!" he yelled as Augustus turned and walked away. "Go get 'em!"
Go get what? Augustus considered asking Geogri what the hell he was talking about, but decided that he was too tired for any further interaction with his brother tonight. He gave a quick wave before continuing onward, still feeling as though there was something going over his head but unable to even guess at what.
He did not ponder it for long. Around him, circus folk scurried by; workmen hefting tent poles, other performers on their way out to town or back to their own quarters, venders clutching the night's earnings close to their chests, their thoughts occasionally entering his head in brief snippets as he passed. In the background one of the elephants trumpeted their displeasure at being led back to the cages. Augustus did not even look up from the ground; he had seen these sights and heard these sounds too often for them to be of any interest to him.
The caravan that he and his brother shared was near the end of the lot, in the same general area that it was always parked no matter what town their circus was currently performing in. The distance from the big top had never bothered Augustus all that much, as it gave him time to reflect on the show, count all the things he well, compare them to the things he did poorly, and consider all the ways he could improve the next time around. None of his usual thoughts occupied him tonight as he made his way through the lot, dodging this person or that as he walked, his eyes downcast.
Donatella had not been in her seat at the end of the show, nor had she been waiting for him at the back entrance. That was fine. It should have been fine. He told himself this and yet could not rid himself of his disappointment, the feeling gnawing at his chest like a worm chewing its way through an apple.
Months ago, they had begun this informal routine. One would attend and watch the other's show all the way through, observing every jump, every flip, every trick and twist, all the while critiquing the techniques on display and comparing it to their own, and then afterwards they would meet up and discuss their observations. Usually these discussions would involve long arguments over the validity of the critiques, peppered here and there with boasting and suggestions that were half-sarcastic and half-sincere. Then they would part, sometimes in good spirits, sometimes thoroughly annoyed with each other (an identical streak of stubbornness ran though them both), but always taking something that the other had given them, a piece of advice or criticism or (rarest of all) genuine praise. But this wasn't something they'd each verbally agreed that they would do; they had not sworn on any bibles that this was how they would go about their little game. Augustus knew this, knew that he wasn't entitled to Donatella's time anymore than she was to his.
That didn't stop him from being put out that she'd apparently left before the show ended, on the night that the performance had gone more smoothly than any that had come before. He remembered exactly how exhilarated he had felt after sticking that final landing, how his first thought had been And what will she say to this?
The truth was, even if there were times when she made him want to tear his own beard out, even when there were nights where they'd argue extensively over some minor thing, he'd begun to look forward to these meetings with her. He did not know what he liked better- when he saw her emerge from her troupe's big top in full costume, cheeks flushed and skin glistening with sweat, or when she was the one waiting for him, devoid of costume or make-up but still so tall and confident, still more beautiful than the girls who swarmed Georgi night after night. In either case, her expression was always blank and bored until she spotted him, then her eyes would light up, and a slow smile would spread across her face, and she'd stride over with her quick, graceful gait, ignoring all others, her attention focused only on him.
He had thought she felt the same. He slowed, and then stopped, staring down at his shoes as he thought. He did not really believe that she had left because she was upset about him doing so well tonight, she was competitive, but she was certainly not a sore loser. It occurred to him that maybe the reason had nothing at all to do with him, that maybe there had been some emergency at her circus or with her family that had called her away. Their competition, after all, wasn't anything serious, and her responsibility to her troupe came first. He began walking again, feeling foolish for getting so upset, hoping that everything was alright and resolving to ask her about it the next time that he saw her.
That next time came sooner rather than later, because when he arrived at the caravan he found her waiting for him inside.
He stood, shocked, door open behind him and hand still on the knob, staring at her with wide eyes. Donatella was just…there, sitting on one of the beds (the one he slept on, he couldn't stop himself from noting), leaning back on her hands, one long leg crossed over the other, the toe of her socked foot resting on the wooden floor.
She looked him up and down, her sharp eyes taking him in and making his heart beat faster. Her tongue peeked out to wet her lips (he clutched the doorknob tighter when he saw that) and then she spoke. "Are there not enough bugs in here to suit your taste? Is that why you're standing there with the door open?"
Her voice, soft, seductive, and somewhat mocking in tone, hit him before the meaning of her words did, as it was so rare for him to hear it without groups of people swarming by them. Then what she had actually said caught up with him and he quickly slammed the door shut, the force of it causing the frame to rattle and the hinges to squeak. "I thought you had left," he said, blushing at his own awkwardness.
"I did leave," she said matter-of-factly, brushing her ponytail off of her shoulder. "I had thought that I better get here fast if I wanted to make it to your caravan before you did. I did not know where it was and had to ask around. Your brother- that pretty one that likes to stand too close- was kind enough to tell me where to go." She held something that Augustus could not make out in the darkness. "And to let me borrow his key." She tossed it over to him casually.
He caught it effortlessly, his reflexes, honed by years of intense physical training, not diminished by his shock at finding Donatella in his bed. Her explanation answered many questions-why the door had been unlocked, why Georgi had been acting so strangely, and why Donatella had not been in her usual seat. But what to do now, he wondered, still standing silently by the door. It was obvious, even to him, that she hadn't snuck in here just to have their usual after-show conversation. And he definitely wasn't opposed to it, that much he knew for certain. He figured that he ought to do something before she started mocking him for gawking at her like those teenage boys did when she performed. He took a step forward, and then another, and was soon in front of the bed, and by extension, her.
He could see her much better than he had when he'd been by the door. The moonlight streaming in from the lone window on the left side provided the only illumination in the otherwise dim caravan, the light slanting distractingly over the tops of Donatella's thighs and the blue pleated skirt that she was wearing. Augustus stared, and then, upon realizing that he was staring, snapped his head back, his face hot. "So," he began, trying to not sound like he was completely out of his element, "what did you think of tonight's show?"
She seemed to find the question humorous, as her shoulders began to shake with silent laughter. "Yeah, it was good," she said lightly, uncrossing her legs and putting her other foot on the floor.
Augustus furrowed his brows, almost offended by her dismissive tone. "Good?" he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "It was perfect and you know it."
Donatella raised an eyebrow. "Do I know it?" she teased, sliding her foot over the floor towards him. "Do you know it?"
Augustus didn't notice the movement; too busy mentally scrutinizing his performance, suddenly not feeling quite as confident as he had a moment before. "What do you mean?" he demanded to know, the sensual atmosphere in the room momentarily forgotten.
Donatella leaned back further on the bed, the action causing her chest to stick out in a way that Augustus would have found tempting had it not seemed like she was deliberately dancing around his question. "What do you think I mean?"
Again, Augustus thought back to his performance, recollecting the more complicated parts of the routine. He was unable to recall any technical errors, but maybe she was referring to his showmanship. He wasn't the most charismatic performer, and he admittedly had a tendency to sacrifice personality in the interest of making his moves mechanically correct. And that wasn't even getting into his facial expressions…
("I swear, I have never seen anyone look so grim while sticking a landing. One would think that you had just found out that your favorite show horse had died mid-flip."
That had been the first thing that Donatella had ever said to him. "I don't like any of the show horses," had been his very clever response.)
Her foot had made it over to his and was now rubbing up and down his calf in a way that sent a pulse of electricity up his leg. Augustus faltered, distracted by the warmth spreading throughout his body and the easy, controlled movements of Donatella's leg. The glimmer in her eye said that she knew exactly what kind of effect she was having on him. "Ah, look, if you…" He swallowed, looking down at her foot and then back up at her. "If there was something wrong with the show, stop messing around and tell me what it was already."
Donatella paused, her foot resting right in the middle of his calf, putting a light pressure on the muscle. "Are acrobatics and shows the only things you think about?" She had asked the question light-heartedly enough, but there was a note of mild exasperation in her tone. Augustus pointed out that if she had just answered his question they could have moved on by now, and she rolled her eyes. "What is it that you want, hm?" she said, sounding amused and annoyed. "You want me to say it out loud?"
Before Augustus could respond, Donatella sat up straight and snatched him by the faded fabric of his work tank. She pulled him down with one strong tug, low enough so that their faces were mere centimeters apart. "You were perfect tonight," she whispered, her breath hitting his lips, "the best you've ever been."
Though she'd spoken quietly the words seemed to echo within the dark room. Augustus didn't have time to reflect how strange it was for Donatella to praise him without adding some sort of teasing to it, for she had leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his an instant later. He was still at first, too stunned by how soft her lips felt to reciprocate, the sensation of it more intense than any other kiss he'd experienced despite its relative chasteness. His paralysis was broken by her hand snaking its way to the back of his head, and he sank to his knees, groaning as her fingers ran through his thick hair. Donatella took this opportunity to slide her tongue in, and immediately his head began to swim, intoxicated by her taste (like cinnamon) and her scent (a mix of jasmine and lavender). She tilted her head slightly, the new angle allowing her to thrust her tongue deeper into his mouth.
His hands- he needed to do something with his hands, he realized as they kissed, because at the moment they were held out awkwardly at his sides and doing neither him nor Donatella any good. So he placed them firmly on her shoulders and, oh God, how had he not known before now that she had the most perfect shoulders in the world? Even through her blouse he could feel how strong they were, and he automatically began kneading his fingers into them, squeezing them hard enough to make her gasp into his mouth. More, he thought, he had to have more of her, had touch every part of her well-muscled body. His hands began to roam, the right moving down her arm, the left going the opposite way towards her neck.
She broke away just as his thumb began to caress her jaw. Even in the minimal lighting Augustus could see how flushed her cheeks were, how the gloss she'd put on her lips had become smeared, could even make out the points of her nipples straining through her blouse. All he could do was catch his breath and stare at her as a nervous excitement coursed through his veins. It was surreal, to have her here in front of him like this after dreaming about this exact event happening so many times, and that she should look, feel, and taste more incredible than anything his imagination could conjure up.
As he stared, Donatella stared back, her green eyes almost black with arousal. Her gaze took him in slowly, lingering on his chest, then his abs, down to his thighs and back up, the appraisal causing Augustus' cock to twitch in his tights. She flattened her hand against his chest and smiled, amused, possibly because she could feel how hard his heart was hammering through his shirt. "Ah, I see how it is," she said slyly, trailing her hand downwards. Augustus inhaled sharply, the muscles in his abdomen tightening as her fingers grazed over them. She may as well have been touching his naked skin given the way his cock almost instantly sprang to half-mast. "You like having your ego stroked."
Her hand stopped as the waistband of his tights, her fingers dipping into them briefly before retreating. Instead she lightly traced the outline of his erection with her pointer finger, the gleam in her eyes growing brighter as he hissed through his teeth. It was driving him crazy, the way her finger and the fabric of his tights brushed against his dick, just enough to make his toes curl and his fists to clench, but not enough to get him off, and nowhere near as good as it would be if she had her hand wrapped around him, or her full, wet mouth. And she knew exactly what kind of effect she was having on him; he could tell by the curve of her smile, by the way her eyes crinkled at the corners, by how she dragged her finger slowly along his cock, going from base to tip and then back.
It was a frustrating, even if he kind of (okay, more than kind of) liked it. Augustus figured that he better take control of the situation, because she certainly wasn't in any rush to move things forward. He seized her wrist, the skin of it smooth in the his rough, calloused palm, and a jolt of pure excitement ran through them both, in the same way that static electricity transferred from one person to another with a touch. Finally, he heard, the word said in a tone of relief and impatience. It's about time he made a move.
The voice had been Donatella's, but she had not spoken those words out loud. Stray thoughts were often entering his head at random, regardless of whether he wanted them too or not (and most of the time he did not), and having it happen now of all times reminded him of two things: that he was psychic and that Donatella did not know this. His expression fell, his grip slackened, and Donatella, who must have noticed both of those things, looked up at him with confusion, her smile faltering. It was tempting, very tempting, to pretend that everything was fine, that he wasn't keeping any secrets and to resume pulling her hand towards his hard cock. But no, even the thought of deceiving her like that made him nauseous. He sighed, then reluctantly guided her hand away from him and released her, letting his arms hang dejectedly at his sides. Shoulders slumped, he opened his mouth to confess to her, but no sound came out, because he had no idea where to even begin.
Until now, he had never had to actually tell anyone about his status as a psychic. His father and step-mother were aware of his abilities, as were all of his siblings, but they were the only ones who knew. He rarely used his powers, practicing them in private and only so he could maintain control over them. The risks of getting caught using them were too great and that, combined with the disdain his father appeared to have for psychics in general, buried any curiosity he may have had regarding them.
The atmosphere in the silent room became tinged with an undercurrent of anxiety, and Augustus felt sure that at least some of it was coming from Donatella. Sometimes that happened; a person's emotions would seep into his mind the same way that passing thoughts would, the effect always temporary and always uncomfortable. She must have been baffled by the way he just standing there saying nothing, his expression stricken and his cock still half-hard. His memories, however, were preventing him from explaining himself the way he wanted to, memories of hearing the word 'mentalist' spat out as though the syllables themselves were foul, memories of every off-color joke he'd overheard about what an enterprising pervert could do with psychic powers, even that one time a young spectator had asked "hey, you got any psychics in that freak show?" None of those slurs or jokes had been at his expense, but the implications were clear: most people did not like or trust psychics, and there was a non-zero chance that Donatella could be among them.
"If there is something wrong," Donatella said, her voice cutting into his grim thoughts, "it is better to say what it is, rather than just sit there looking glum." She sounded annoyed but there was hint of softness under that irritation, and concern filled her eyes.
He looked down at the floor, unable to keep her gaze. "I have to tell you something."
"That much is obvious," Donatella replied. She placed her hand under his chin and tilted his head upwards. "Say what it is then. Unless you would prefer that I guess?" She paused, tapping her chin in mock contemplation. "Is it another woman?"
Augustus blinked, surprised. "Uh, no."
"Another man?"
At this, he laughed. "No, not that either," he said, his mood lifting just a little.
"A venereal disease, then." She heaved a dramatic sigh, ignoring the strangled noise that emerged from Augustus' throat. "Well that's a shame."
"N-no," Augustus stammered out, holding his hands out defensively.
"I appreciate you being honest," she continued, moving to rise from the bed. "But sadly, I must cut this short. You understand, I'm sure."
"Donatella, wait, no!" He shot his arms out, placing them on her shoulders to push her down onto the bed. "I'm psychic!" he blurted out, feeling clumsy and foolish immediately afterward. So much for a somber, thoughtful confession.
Donatella stared at him, her expression blank, as though she had not understood what the word 'psychic' meant. Then she frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. "You are not."
"Uh." The reaction hadn't been one he'd been expecting. Shock? Yes. Anger? Yes. Disgust? Yes. Flat out denial? No, not at all. "I am."
Donatella flicked her ponytail off of her shoulder. "Prove it, then. "Her eyes met his, a challenge in them.
Augustus thought for a moment, unsure of what she meant by 'prove it.' Anxiety bubbled up within him, an anxiety he hadn't since his first show many years ago. Tonight was, apparently, going to be a night of firsts, for not only had he never told anybody about his paranormal abilities, he'd also never used them in front of anyone intentionally. He glanced about, looking for something he could pick up with telekinesis, but he could find nothing in the darkness, and his eyes kept falling back onto Donatella anyway, so he figured, well, why not? He held his hand up, focusing on the black band that held Donatella's long, deep auburn hair back. Then he drew his hand downward, the hair band following the motion until it slipped free of her hair and fell on the bed.
Donatella gasped, and Augustus couldn't help but feel a little victorious at being the one to catch her off-guard for once, even if there was a chance that this victory could mean losing her forever. "I don't- It isn't something I've told anyone else." A strand of hair had fallen across her cheek, and he brushed it away, letting his fingers drag along her soft skin, glad that his touch hadn't caused her to flinch. "If you want to leave, I won't stop you."
Donatella took his hand in hers. "I am not going anywhere," she replied, pulling his hand towards her mouth and kissing it. "I just wasn't expecting to hear that from you, of all people."
"But having a venereal disease would have been something you expected?" He asked the question with a note of humor, far too relieved that she didn't think he was a monster to actually be offended.
"One never knows with men," she answered, and honestly Augustus had encountered enough shady characters during his travels to know that she was right. "And you must be the worst mind reader on Earth," she continued, poking him in the chest, "because no other man would have looked so surprised to see me here tonight."
Augustus shrugged. "I don't like to go poking around in other people's heads. I prefer to mind my own business."
"There's minding your own business and then there's being completely oblivious," she said, squeezing his hand affectionately. "It's a good thing that you're handsome, that's all I can say."
"How do you know I wasn't playing hard to get?"
"Because you weren't."
Augustus couldn't argue with that. "So it's not a problem? It doesn't bother you?" It was clear enough that it didn't, but he still wanted to hear her say it.
Donatella's eyes softened, the teasing glint in them absent, replaced by a warmth that made Augustus' want to take her in his arms and hold onto her forever. "No, it doesn't. You might be stubborn and ridiculously obtuse, but you're also hard-working and determined, and you being psychic doesn't change any of that." She set her hand on his bicep and clutched it firmly. "And you have perfect form."
"You always said that I had no charisma."
"You don't, which, oddly enough, I find charming on its own." She leaned forward and brought him into an embrace, one that he was more than happy to return. "Thank you for telling me the truth," she said, whispering the words against his ear, the sensation of her lips at his skin sending a warm tingle down his spine. "It must be a difficult secret to keep."
It was, and perhaps one day he'd open up to her about all those dark, painful things he kept to himself, about how often he felt like an outcast even within his own family. But not now, not when she was in his arms like this, not when her breasts were pressed so hard to his chest that he could feel her nipples though the material of both of their shirts, not when his hands were roaming over the muscles of her back and the jut of her shoulder blades. She must have agreed, for she didn't say anything more about the subject, instead sliding her tongue along his ear lobe and then taking it between her teeth, nibbling on it in a way that made him dig his nails into her shirt. His erection, which had flagged a little during their conversation, rose up as she abandoned his ear lobe and began working on his neck, sucking at a space just under his jaw, then at his pulse point, at the same time slipping her hand up his shirt and flattening her palm over the hard, flat plane of his chest.
She was trying to drive him crazy, he thought as her fingers twisted his nipple and her mouth sucked hard at a spot just above his collarbone. At this rate he'd reach his limit before they even got each other's clothes off, and if that happened Donatella would never let him live it down. He jerked his neck back away from her and pushed her down onto the bed, crushing his mouth to hers as he laid himself over top of her. She returned the kiss enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, thighs bracketing his hips and heels over his ass. They were angled so that his hard cock brushed right between her legs, with only her underwear preventing him from sliding deep inside of her. It seemed his hips wanted to try anyway, as they kept thrusting up against her, moving almost in time with his tongue, an act that excited Donatella if the way she was moaning into his mouth was any indication. Encouraged, he brought one of his hands to her thigh and spread her legs apart even further, her muscles bunching up under his palm.
It was here that Donatella broke the kiss, pushing him away with the palm of her hand. "Slow down," she said, laughing breathlessly and glancing down at Augustus' crotch, "before you poke a hole through those tights and have to sew the most embarrassing patch onto them."
Augustus paused and followed Donatella's gaze, and then sat up once he realized that she was right. "Ah, s-sorry," he stammered, laughing at the absurd mental image she had just placed into his mind. He put his hands on the waistband of his tights. "Should I?"
"No," Donatella said, sitting up. She grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted it upwards so fast that Augustus barely had time to raise his arms. The tank was tossed carelessly aside and before it even hit the floor Donatella pulled down his tights. His cock sprang free, exposed to the cool air and Donatella's gaze. "There, that's much better," she said, running her hand down his chest, her nails grazing his nipple and then scraping down against his abs. His breath caught in his throat as her hand hovered over his cock for the briefest of seconds, and then he exhaled sharply when she took it into her hand, giving the shaft a slow tug. Her hands were so different from his- the grip was just as strong, but her palm was smooth and uncalloused, and she worked his now aching cock easily even without lubrication. "Hmm, yes, I like this. But…" She looked down at herself, her hand pausing at the top of his shaft, thumb poised just above the slit. "I feel a bit over-dressed."
She released his cock, smiling at his disappointed groan. "Oh I'm sorry, would you prefer that I just jerked you off until you came into my hand?" She glanced slyly at his dick, eyes glittering in way that seemed cruel to Augustus at this moment. "I can't imagine that it would take longer than a minute, from the look of it," she said, tapping the head with her finger.
Augustus frowned, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "I would last longer than that," he insisted, feeling a little irked by her slight about his stamina.
Donatella threw her head back and laughed, and Augustus supposed that he probably did look ridiculous right now, kneeling there with his tights around his thighs and his erection jutting out. "You think so, do you?" she said, leaning back and arching in a way that made her breasts stick out enticingly. She drifted her hand down towards the hem of her shirt, taking the fabric between her thumb and forefinger. "Prove it to me then." She drew the hem upwards, exposing a thin strip of taunt, golden skin. "Stay there and watch me." Her shirt moved up further, past her belly-button, drawing Augustus' eyes to her flat, perfectly-formed stomach. "If you come before I get all my clothes off, I will leave." She paused, and then added, as an afterthought, "and I suppose I will have to make fun of you for it the rest of our natural lives."
Augustus wasn't surprised that she had somehow turned even this into a competition, as it was what she did with every other aspect of their relationship. Well, he had never shied away from any other challenge she made, and he certainly wasn't about to start now. "You're on," he said seriously, his expression grimly determined. His seriousness only made her laugh again, which should have annoyed him but didn't. He'd never been one to inspire genuine laughter from anyone, always being considered too stoic to joke around with. The fact that she seemed to take so much amusement from his company always made him feel lighter, even if most of that amusement came at his expense.
She smirked, her gaze lingering on his face. "Glad that you're so eager to rise to the occasion," she said, bring her shirt up a little further, just underneath the swell of her breasts.
A smile crept onto Augustus' face. "That's not one of your better quips, I have to say."
"It made you smile, didn't it?"
"Only because it was so bad."
Donatella scoffed, rolling her eyes fondly. "You love all of my quips and you know it."
Augustus couldn't counter that point, partially because she was right, but mostly because she had chosen that moment to lift her shirt up over her head, and the sight before him had rendered him speechless. She hadn't bothered with a bra, so her breasts were completely bared to him, both of them round and soft and looking like they could fit perfectly into his hands. That wasn't to say that rest of her wasn't incredible, he wanted to trace his hands all over her body, from her ribs down to her obliques and all over her sleek abs, but it was her breasts that his eyes kept coming back to. Her nipples were dark and peaked in the cool night air, and he could just imagine bending over and taking one of them into his mouth, circling his tongue over the areola and sucking it so hard that it made her cry out.
He must have unconsciously moved forward, for she held a hand out as though to stop his progress. "No," she said, "you don't get to touch me yet." She slid both her hands down her body and then brought them back up to her breasts, squeezing them. "You just watch."
Augustus' mouth dropped open as she started to play with her nipples, rolling one gently under her index finger and pinching the other one hard. "You're…"he swallowed, unable to tear his eyes away. "You're not being fair," he said, only realizing that he sounded like a whining child after the words had come out of his mouth.
The smile she gave him was both incredibly evil and very attractive. "I find that taking one's time," she paused here to gasp at a particularly rough pinch, "really adds to the performance." She looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, the pupils nearly black with arousal. "But if you have trouble controlling yourself, I can speed things up." She smiled wider, showing her teeth, and Augustus suddenly remembered how they had felt nibbling at his ear. "You just have to ask. Nicely."
He opened his mouth to do just that but pride stopped him short of actually saying anything. He squared his shoulders and swore that he wouldn't start begging just yet, at least not over a bit of tit-play. Donatella saw this and shrugged, not at all concerned. "You always take everything so seriously." Her hand, the one that had been teasing her nipple lightly, made its way down to her skirt. "It's cute," she said as she lifted her hips up and slipped the garment off, letting it fall down her leg to the floor.
Augustus watched with a rapidly weakening resolve as her fingers toyed with waistband of her plain cotton panties, stretching the fabric out a little before letting it snap back against her skin. "I have to assume," she said, moving her hand down to the front of her underwear, "that since you're being so quiet," she started rubbing gentle circles into the material, giving a breathy sigh of pleasure as she teased herself, "you won't mind if I keep these on for a little while longer." She gasped a little as she applied more pressure to her still-clothed clit. "Unless you would prefer otherwise." She smirked, raising an eyebrow at him.
Augustus said nothing, though the desire to just rip those panties right off of her hips was so strong that his hands were twitching at his sides. But doing that would only hand her an easy victory, and since she was the one who had turned this into a contest, he figured that he should make her work a little harder before he inevitably gave in. So he shrugged and said "Suit yourself," with a nonchalance he didn't actually feel.
That got to her, he could tell from the way her smile fell and how her fingers stopped. "Ah…hm. Fine then." She quickly recovered, resuming her movements, her right hand fondling her breast and her left slipping into her panties. "I can…ah!" She moaned as her fingers made contact with her bare skin. "I can…have quite a bit of fun on my own."
He could not actually see her fingers rubbing at her clit, only the motions of them underneath her underwear. Somehow, that scant bit of cloth made the whole thing seem more lewd than if she'd had nothing on at all. The sounds she was making; the little gasps coming from her mouth, the wet noises resulting from her fingers on her cunt, filled the caravan and only served to make the situation even hotter. Face hot, breathing heavy, Augustus placed his hand on his throbbing cock, because just watching Donatella pleasure herself was no longer enough, he needed to have some sort of stimulation before he went mad.
He gave himself long, slow strokes, going from base to tip, but began speeding up, as though subconsciously trying to match Donatella's pace. By now, it appeared she was no longer trying to put on a show for him, this he could tell from how red her cheeks had become, from the way she pinched harder at her nipple, from how the muscles of her abs contracted as she rubbed her clit faster. She was just as aroused as he was, possible just as close to climaxing as he was now. He leaned forward, reaching out with the hand not currently running up and down his dick. "Donatella," he said, her name coming out almost as a groan, his fingers hovering over her knee.
"Ha, are you at your limit so soon?" Donatella said smugly, though Augustus did not miss the hint of relief in her tone.
He thought it over for a second, swirling his thumb over the head of his cock. "Yes," he said plainly, deciding that at this point he'd be much better off if he abandoned his pride and just let her have this win. "Can you please, just…" He trailed off, suddenly embarrassed, though why he should feel such a way now when he'd just been jerking himself off in front of her for the past few minutes was a mystery to him.
Luckily, Donatella had also become tired of dragging this out now that she'd gotten him to admit defeat. "I'll have mercy on you this time," she said quickly, removing her hand from the inside of her panties (and Augustus could not help but note how slick her fingers were). "Now would you like me to take these off?" she asked, lifting the waistband, "Or would you like to do the honors?"
Wordlessly, Augustus bent forward and grabbed her underwear, which evidently had been the wrong thing to do, because she immediately slapped his hand away. "You didn't answer my question," she admonished, wagging her finger at him disapprovingly.
Didn't she just say she was going to have mercy on him? Augustus ran a hand through his messy hair and blew out a frustrated sigh. "May I please," he said, unable to hide either his impatience or his excitement, "take your," he paused, again feeling silly and embarrassed, "underwear off?"
She smiled and nodded, grabbing his hand and putting it back at the side of her hip as he brought the other one to the opposite side. He then tugged them down her hips, fingers grazing her strong, toned legs as he pulled them down to her knees, where she kicked them off the rest of the way. Then he made his way back up her thighs, gliding his hands up until they reached her cunt and slipped a finger between the lips experimentally, running it up and down her slit, almost marveling at how slick she was. Her thighs trembled and her breathing came out in short, high-pitched gasps, and she ground herself down on him when he added a second finger. Had he not been so close to the edge himself he probably would have enjoyed drawing this out and making her come against his hand. But as it was he thought he better hurry things along, lest he finish before he even put his cock in her (although the thought of coming all over her thighs and stomach was pretty appealing…maybe he could save that for another time too). He pulled his hand away and spread her thighs open, anticipation rising within him as he leaned forward to slide inside.
Then Donatella closed her legs. "Wait," she yelled, sitting up abruptly and pushing at his chest.
"Oh my God," Augustus groaned, his anticipation morphing into frustration and annoyance. Donatella ignored him, head turning left and then right as her hands pawed through the sheets and blankets. "Donatella, enough games," he said, completely exasperated. "Let's just-"
"I'm not trying to play a game here," she interrupted, lifting up the blanket and dropping it back down. "Where's my skirt? Is it on the floor?"
It was, and Augustus picked it up and handed it to her, confused and worried that she had changed her mind. Although, if that were the case, wouldn't she have asked for her underwear first? "What are you-"
"Would you have some patience, please?" Donatella snapped, again cutting him off. She was searching through one of her skirt pockets. "Look at you, you're still wearing your boots and your tights," she continued, huffing in irritation as she moved on to the other pocket. "Maybe you should take those off before- oh damn, where is it?" She tossed the skirt aside and crawled to the edge of the bed, reaching down and groping for something on the floor.
Augustus watched her as he kicked off his boots and peeled his tights off; still unsure of what she was looking for in the darkness. "Ah, here it is!" she said as she sat back up, holding up a small, square packet. "It must have fallen out of my pocket. Good for both of us that I found it."Augustus could only nod, blushing and embarrassed that he had not once thought of how they would go about this safely. "You know what this is, right?" Donatella said, mistaking his silence for incomprehension.
"Y-yeah," Augustus stammered, taking the condom from her and carefully tearing it open. Donatella lay back on the bed as his slipped it over his cock. When he looked back up she was staring up at him, eyes roaming his body, lingering on his face, his chest, his cock. He stared back, taking in her lips, parted and red, her hair, dark and spread out over the pillows, her breasts, her stomach, the juncture of her thighs, slightly spread open. Beautiful didn't seem a strong enough word to describe her in this moment, so he said nothing, and she said nothing, so a small silence stretched between them until their eyes met. Hers were a dark green, glinting with anticipation and full of so much affection that he thought his heart might burst. She smiled softly, and then reached out with her hand, and he took it and let her pull him down over top of her.
Her body fit against his perfectly, her breasts and stomach pressing right up on his chest, so smooth compared to his own. His head was right at her shoulder, and when he turned his head his lips brushed her neck. So he pressed a kiss there, and then worked his way up, kissing her jaw, her cheek, and then her mouth. He kissed her deeply, running his hands over ribs and onto her breasts, his thumbs playing with her nipples. She moaned into his mouth when he ground his hips against hers, his cock rubbing right up on her pubic hair. "Now," she said, breaking the kiss and twining her legs around his waist. "Augustus, do it now."
Naturally, he obliged her request, taking his cock in hand and slipping it into her wet heat. Once he was in, he could not stop himself from plunging all the way inside, and they both cried out at the same time as the walls of her cunt squeezed him tightly. There was no way he was going to last long, he thought as he pounded her into the mattress. Everything he was experiencing in this moment- the tightness around his dick, the heady smell of sex mingling with her perfume, her nails scratching at his back, her breasts bouncing up against his chest, her own arousal steaming into his mind- all nearly overloaded his body with pleasure, making him feel almost light-headed with it. He felt Donatella grab one of his hands and bring it to her swollen clit, and he began rubbing rough circles onto it without any instruction from her, his ears savoring the near-scream she let out. He bent his head down, taking one of her nipples into his mouth, the taste of it salty-sweet as he sucked hard.
That was enough to bring her climax, and he felt her whole body shudder as she came. He followed not long after, the hot electric sensation of his release spreading throughout his body, all the way down to his toes. He then collapsed onto top of her, head on her breast, as exhausted and sweaty as he would have been after running through a particularly intense routine.
For a moment, he and Donatella lay still on the bed, the only motion being the heavy rise and fall of their chests as they caught their breaths. "Hey," Donatella said once that moment had passed. "Don't fall asleep on me until you've pulled out all the way."
"Ah, sorry." Augustus sat up and pulled his cock, now soft and spent, out of her, then got up to discard the condom. When he got back into bed he resumed his position on top of her, feeling bone-tired. Her arms slid around his shoulders as her pressed the side of his face on her chest, her hands tracing idle patterns on his upper back. He closed his eyes and breathed in, inhaling her sweet, musky scent.
Minutes passed like that, and he almost fell asleep to the sound of her heart beating in her chest. "I suppose," she said, waking him up, "that I will have to leave soon." She didn't sound very happy about the prospect. "So don't get too comfortable."
Augustus shot up onto his elbows, alarmed. "What? Why?" He looked at her then at the door, as though expecting the answer to be written on it. His bare foot brushed up against her calve and – oh. That was why. "I didn't get your socks off."
"Ha, what?" Donatella said, letting out a laugh as she looked down at her feet to confirm Augustus' statement. "Oh, they are still on. But what does that have to do with anything?"
"You said that you would leave if I couldn't get all of your clothes off."
She burst into giggles at his explanation. "Oh Gus, I wasn't serious." He frowned, which made her laugh even harder, and then he began laughing too, because really, that had been a silly conclusion to jump to. When their laughter subsided she told him the real reason she thought she had to go. "Your brother, remember? He'll be back sometime tonight, won't he?"
"No, he won't," Augustus said without thinking. "He said he'd be gone all night." Technically he had said that 'maybe' he'd be gone all night, but finding alternative places to sleep was one Georgi's many talents, and Augustus had faith in his brother's abilities.
Donatella did not share Augustus' confidence. "Are you sure? The last thing I want is for him to walk in on us like this."
Georgi walking in on them (or any member of his family, really) was pretty high on Augustus' list of things he did not want to happen, but her leaving him to spend the night alone in this sweat-soaked bed, especially after what had happened between them, ranked higher. "He said that he would be gone for hours, at the very least," he said, "so you don't have to leave right this second."
"Hm, well…" Donatella considered her options, and then shrugged. "Fine. I'll stay. For a bit." She sat up enough so that she could kiss him, slowly and deeply. "Only because you're so desperate to keep me here," she continued after breaking the kiss
Augustus brushed a stray lock of hair off of her damp forehead, smiling down at her affectionately. He felt that he needed to say something more, to address the way their relationship had changed (and it had, there was no way that he could write this off as a one-night-stand). But he'd never been great at expressing his emotions, and wasn't sure if it was too soon to call what he felt for her love. What he did know, however, was that he wanted to stay with her long enough to find out, and there was no way that he was going to let her leave this caravan without telling her that. He just needed his brain and his mouth to line up long with each other long enough to say what he felt.
Thankfully, Donatella did the work for him by bringing the matter up in her usual confident, direct way. "You realize," she said, cupping the side of his face with her palm, "that you're mine now." She moved up to his scalp, her fingers running through his hair. "And I'm not about to let you go anytime soon. So you'll have to say good-bye to all those girls that go crazy for you."
Augustus had no idea what girls Donatella was talking about, but he nodded anyway, perfectly content with the prospect of belonging to her.