Warnings for sexual content in this chapter.
There was a ridiculous amount of booze in the company's possession. Not that Erik is complaining, but there was a little thing called the prohibition that would it the fact was ever discovered.
Logan was using Erik's two week "anniversary" as an excuse to haul out crates of cheap beer and get everyone hammered. Logan, it seemed, was the unofficial keeper of the alcohol, which Erik though was a very bad idea, as the man was seen more often than not with a bottle of something within reach. So on the day that marked the end of Erik's second week in the Brotherhood of traveling performers, Logan led him to the compartment that stored the alcohol.
"Llamas," Erik said, torn between disgust and amusement, "you keep the booze in with the llamas."
"Llamas spit Lensherr," Logan leered, "and believe it or not, most inspectors would rather not be spat upon. So eager are they not to, in fact, that they would risk not checking the llama car thoroughly. So yes, we keep the booze in with the llamas."
Erik's knees buckled momentarily under the weight of an entire crate that Logan deposited unceremoniously into his arms, "Outstanding." he grinned.
"Isn't it? Ingenious if I do say so myself. Before I got here they were just sneaking a few bottles on at every stop. Had to have had it all drunk by the next station. All very stressful, wasteful business. Shouldn't have to drink just to hide evidence."
"And then you thought of the llamas?"
"And then I thought of the llamas. I smuggle the booze too, across borders. Easier to get the brew up in Canada. I have a pal up north name o' Smitty there who keeps us well supplied."
"Should you really be telling me all this?"
"Shit Lensherr you gonna tell on me? Like hell you will you're drinking the stuff same as all of us kid, you'd be arrested right along side me."
Erik chuckled and followed the man out into the narrow hallway, elbows and wrists scraping along the walls from where they clutched the crate to his chest. The impromptu party was being held in the storage cars. When they arrived, people were already sprawled over the floor and propped up on the various boxes and sacks. All in all it looked very like when Erik had come to think of as a normal night on the road, except that there were quite a few more people in attendance.
"And here cometh the beer!" Sean crowed at the sight of Logan and Erik, and he reached out with greedy hands for Logan's burden, "Here let me help you with that..."
"Like hell Cassidy." Logan snarled, baring his teeth territorially, knocking the skinny boy aside with his muscled shoulder and heading into the room. Sean turned hopefully to Erik, who rolled his eyes but handed the box over. It was pretty heavy anyway.
Erik parked himself in a corner, sinking heavily into the dry straw stacked there. It had been a long day of packing up and loading, but now that they were set to depart early the next morning they could look forward to a good few days of down time. Most of the men were taking advantage of the fact by getting as hammered as they could since having a hangover the next morning was more excusable on road days.
Erik was handed another bottle before he was even finished the first, and that about set the pace for the rest of the evening.
"Well looky here Ang, who's this darling boy?" the voice was loud and shrill and disturbingly close in his ear. He looked up and squinted into the light above him, which was partially obscured by a voluptuous woman. He shook his head roughly, trying to dispel the double vision that was creating the multiple dark haired faces smirking down at him.
"Oh Isabelle you would set your eyes on this one," said one of the faces, putting her arm around the first while the third giggled behind her gloved hand. So maybe Erik wasn't as drunk as he thought, and there was actually a bunch of girls crowded up against him. "This is the new boy that everyone's been talking about, Erik Lensherr."
"Yup, Ivy League!" The forth girl drawled in a deep southern accent. Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a blonde streak pushed behind her ear. He thought he recognized her from the night in the dancer tent, she'd been the one talking to Sean. "Logan's new project, he's been telling me all about him."
"Erik!" the first girl said coyly, "You're a handsome one! How about we show you a good time!" she crouched and slid a hand up his arm. Beside her girl number two, Ang? A dark haired, dark skinned beauty, a Latino, it had to be Angel, pursed her lips and scanned Erik's splayed body appreciatively.
"Yea okay," she agreed, "How about it baby, have you ever even lain with a woman? You look way too wound up. We can fix that."
"Okay y'all have fun with that, imma go find Logan 'kay?" the southern girl said, what was her name? Erik's mind sluggishly dragged it up from what Sean had told him about the "twisted love octagon or whatever". Anna Marie, that was it. Madly in love with Logan, blah blah blah.
His mind was pulled back into the present when a hand slipped into his trousers and cupped his dick. He gasped and tensed with a startled jerk and stared down at the slim brown arm disappearing past his waistband with a strange sense of detachment.
"Uhg," he grunted as the slender fingers moved around his limp cock, slowly causing it to stiffen. "I-it's really...um, here? Ah, really?"
He couldn't believe this was happening, he was about to lose his virginity in a train car full of stinky drunk men. The girl Isabelle was kissing him roughly, gripping his shirtfront and shoving her tongue into his mouth. It was rather wet and messy, and her teeth kept knocking against his uncomfortably. She tasted like onions and kissing her required his neck to twist at an awkward angle. To summerize, he wasn't really sure if he liked it.
What Angel was doing, however, required no such contemplation. She'd gotten his fly open and her mouth had replaced her hand. There was nothing not to like about that.
But pleasant going-ons in his trousers aside, Erik was dreadfully uncomfortable. The alcohol appeared to have lulled him into a drowsy state, and the room around him felt miles away. He registered the mouth on his cock, and the one sucking at his lips like a leech. Angel lifted off his erection briefly, staring, and he dimly heard the three of them cooing admiringly at it. I felt ridiculous, to have people cooing at his penis. He'd rather they just got on with it.
They also seemed to be reassessing their guess that he was a virgin, apparently he was lasting longer than most would. He supposed he should feel proud about that, but the air against his damp cock was cold and he was feeling increasingly self-conscious about the room full of people behind them. His erection was beginning to lag a little.
The girls took notice and the one he didn't know the name of grabbed his hand and tucked it under her shirt against her breast. Erik felt the hard nub of her nipple between his second and third finger and marveled blearily at the fact that he was touching his first naked breast.
Isabelle was licking his ear like some over-enthusiastic dog, the girl whose breast he held had started to cry out loudly and was writhing against his palm, although he wasn't really doing anything. She sounded sort of like the goats on the farm had at meal time. Angel was using her hand again, brows furrowed in concentration. Over her shoulder Sean was pushing a bottle into Charles' hands.
Charles, who was looking right at him, face gone crimson.
Erik stared back in horror, any arousal that was left had fled completely, leaving Angel with a handful of limp flesh. Some part of Erik knew that that was extremely rude and embarrassing, but he didn't seem to care at that moment.
Because it seemed suddenly imperative that Charles know that this wasn't how Erik normally spent his nights. It was vital that he be told that Erik hadn't instigated this, that his idea of a nice evening in consisted of a good book and his family, perhaps a game of chess, and not raunchy drunken sex with multiple strangers. Erik needed to tell him that he'd rather not be kissing this girl, or fondling that one, and that look, look how not aroused he was by all this tomfoolery! Check out his utterly not-hard penis!
But the moment Erik had met his eyes, Charles had turned tail and fled. Erik stumbled to his feet, managing to just remember to tuck himself back into his pants. The three girls at his feet yelped noisily and he stuttered a drunken incoherent apology about having just remembered something he had to do - yes at eleven o'clock at night- and rushed unsteadily out the door in pursuit.
"Charles!" he hissed sharply into the darkness, and then louder, "Charles!"
Before he could decide which way to go, because damnit he was prepared to search he whole circus if he had to, Charles reappeared out of the shadows with a finger to his red lips, "Be quiet Erik," he whispered, "Sebastian wouldn't like it if he found out I was out."
Relief flooded Erik and he was probably was still louder than Charles would have liked when he blurted, "Charles! I need...I need to tell you-"
"Erik hush, you're drunk."
"Exactly!" he crowed, pleased that Charles had understood so quickly, "I'm drunk! I-I'm very drunk in fact so you see, that wasn't me in there...with them..it was he... me...drunking-I mean drinking! But I'm not a drunk! I just...drank..and got drunk?"
"...okay." Charles said evenly, "Erik you should go back inside, or better yet to bed. Sleep it off. I'll see you tomorrow."
"No!" Erik cried out, panicking a little. If Charles left before he could explain, well, he wasn't sure what wouldn't happen but it wouldn't be good, "please Charles I, I didn't know you were there...if I'd known you were here...why were you there?"
"Ah, looking for you actually. Just...I had a question about one of the horses, but no matter it'll wait until tomorrow."
"Oh!" Erik gasped and leaned forward eagerly, "No ask me now! Do you need me ta come to the m-menagerie? Let's go!" because really, the idea of sitting in the horse cart alone with Charles, in the glow of a single lamp, the smell of fresh hay and warm horses, it was much preferable to returning to the crowded, loud, smelly gathering behind him.
"No Erik you're in no state. Go back to the party."
"I don't want to though." his hands had somehow ended up on Charles' shoulders, and he suddenly found that the height difference between them was rather fascinating. "...Can't we just...I want to stay out here. I want to tell you that I'm sorry."
"Sorry about what Erik?" Charles' voice turned tired halfway through the question, and by the time he reached the question mark at the end, he was slumped over himself beneath Erik's hands.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm drunk. I'm sorry you saw me...like that...back there. I don't want you to, to think ill of me."
"Erik really," Charles had turned red again at the reminder of the position that Erik had been in just minutes before. He was suddenly looking anywhere but at Erik, eyes darting briefly to his face before moving on hurriedly to scan the night behind him. Erik looked down at himself, finally noticing that his state of dress was a bit less than decent. His fly was all the way undone, pants riding low on his hips. The girls had also managed to get his shirt undone at some point, leaving a wide strip of bare skin open to the world. Mortified that he'd been standing there talking to Charles like that, Erik yanked the fabric shut. "It's absolutely none of my business."
No, no it really wasn't any of his business. So why did Erik so desperately wish that it was?
The question settled into the pit of Erik's stomach like one of Fred the strongman's weights. Why why why did he care so much? Why was he standing there like a fool, half dressed when he could be back inside getting his dick sucked by three beautiful women?
The rest of the night - and early morning - passed as a haze of images. He didn't quite remember saying goodbye to Charles save for some mumbled oaths to see him tomorrow, but he eventually ended up back at the party. His new female friends were nowhere to be found and Erik wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or disappointed. There was Sean singing drunken songs with very rude lyrics, Logan and Scott were wrestling on the ground at one point, and bizarrely enough, Erik vividly recalled Alex throwing his arm around his shoulders and yelling to anyone around him that Erik was magical, and had saved his beloved dog from sure death by diarrhea, and that that made him his best friend.
And the next thing he knew Erik found himself waking up wrapped around a beast.
No, not just any beast, he corrected himself, the Beast. The diarrheaing doggy himself in all of his massive blue glory. Erik's first instinct was to jerk away, but all of his interactions with the animal thus far had included much hostility and bared teeth on its part, so he didn't want to make any sudden movements. The dog yawned, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that it was cutting off all blood flow to Erik's left arm, and got up, shaking his arms from its back. It the. Trotted off out the open door.
Erik groaned in relief and began to clench and unclench his fist, attempting to dispel the pins and needles. In time with the motion was the sensation of a hot poker being shoved into his eye socket. His mouth was dry, his eyes crusted over and he reeked of sweat and dog. Not once in his five years in university had he ever been this hungover.
Thinking about the events that had led to his current position- in an undignified sprawl across the floor of his room - was too painful, so Erik postponed that for the time being. Eyes tightly shut against the searing morning light, he reached around blindly for the piss-pot, hoping to relieve at least some of his discomfort.
"Well done Ivy League." Alex's voice made him drop the bucket to the floor with a clatter that momentarily turned his brain to mush. Erik looked to where the younger man stood in the doorway, the beast leaning quietly against his leg, "You've officially become the crew's favourite object of amusement. The whole train's abuzz."
All Erik could do was sink back to the floor and run his hands over his aching head, "Seriously, the whole train?"
"That's right, the girls haven't come out of their rooms yet, pretty thoroughly embarrassed I'd imagine. Apologies might be in order. The other two are just whores, but Angel is a friend so...she likes violets. Buy her some."
Erik nodded mutely, the events from the night before trickling back through the cracks of his fractured mind. Alex studied him for a few seconds longer, then his lips quirked into a crooked grin and he shook his head in apparent amusement, "See ya at breakfast then Lensherr."
So he'd been upgraded from "Ivy League" to "Lensherr" hm? Did this make them friends? Erik really didn't have the mental capacity available to ponder the matter for long so he settled with the theory that curing the dog's digestive issues had earned the other man's grudging respect. It was progress.
But the night before oh hell, the night before. Erik couldn't stop himself thinking about that no matter how badly he wanted to. The beer, the girls, Charles...
At least he wasn't a virgin anymore, he thought, desperate to find some sort of silver lining to the night. Or was he? He didn't exactly finish after all, what was the technical definition of a virgin anyways? He'd participated in sexual activities, but he hadn't really had sex...what the hell did it all add up to?
It added up to the fact the it had been his first real sexual encounter and he hadn't enjoyed it. What had gone wrong? Was it just the fact that the three girls...pleasuring him had been strangers? Surly it would be different with a woman he loved. He tried to picture Magda in Angel's place between his legs, and imagine her smooth, milky pale skin under his hand, her pretty bow-shaped mouth against his own. Self consciously, Erik slid his hand to his groin to tentatively feel his cock through the fabric of his pants. He wasn't getting hard.
Erik thought back to university and farther, to high school. Despite his lack of serious relationships, he'd had a healthy sexual appetite, and was no stranger to pleasuring himself. He frowned, struggling to remember if he'd ever done this before, pictured Magda and touched himself. He couldn't think of a time when he had. He'd thought about doing it, but then had restrained himself out of respect for the sweet girl, his friend.
But he knew that other boys masturbated to photographs of models, it wasn't like they were subtle about it. He'd been to his friends' dorms before and more often then not the walls were hung with raunchy posters, dirty magazines stacked beside text books. The boys unashamedly flipping through them in the others' company.
Erik had lived at home because the on campus facilities were much too expensive for them (even more so than he'd thought) and that way he was able to keep helping out around the farm. Because his mother was constantly fluttering around his room, cleaning and organizing, the thought of such lurid decorations had been out of the question. But that didn't mean that Erik wasn't allowed to fantasize, he just...hadn't.
And his reaction to seeing Charles in the room, big blue eyes shocked, pale hand clutched to his chest in surprise, his vivid red lips parted as he stared-
And Erik's dick twitched under his hand.
His eyes shit open and he stared at the ceiling in disbelief. He stayed completely still, the thunderous beat of his heart the only thing that accompanied the steady rock and rattle of the train. His hand remained frozen in his lap, and thankfully it didn't happen again.
But denying that it had happened, that he'd...his body had responded when he pictured Charles and yet had no reaction to the images of Angel or Magda, was impossible. Erik wasn't the type of person to hate based on sexuality, he never had been. There'd been talk in university of course, rumors and speculation, and the occasional beating or fight stemmed from a hurled insult or a wrong look. Erik had ignored it all, neutral on the subject. As a foreigner and a Jew, he knew what it was like to be discriminated against, and wasn't eager to be on the serving end of such abuse.
But just because he hadn't joined in on the widespread hatred of homosexuals that ran rampant through the country didn't mean that he was exactly excited about the prospect of finding another man arousing. He was aware that he'd grown to like Charles, respect him and enjoy his company, and that seeing him hurt and controlled by Shaw was liable to set a fiery anger ablaze in his chest, but his behaviour last night spoke of something else entirely...
He groaned loud and long and sat up, digging his knuckles into his eyes to clear away the sleep that had congealed among his eyelashes.
Charles had lovely lashes, not particularly long but thick along the upper lid, sort of ginger coloured against the wonderful sky-blue of his irises-
Fuck. Erik was attracted to Charles.
Unbidden, Logan's words rose again in his mind, "Don't look so scandalized Lensherr, this is the circus, if you're going to make it here you have to get used to that kind of thing. " homosexual relationships really were common in the company. The senior trapezest, a man named Jean-Paul kept close company with one of the black laborers who'd followed him down from Canada so they could stay together. The lizard-boy Victor was said to offer "favours" for extra cash, one that quite a few of the men indulged in (apparently the forked tongue was an exciting novelty). Just the other day Erik had witnessed a embrace between two acrobats, Benjamin and Julio, that had lasted a bit too long. Logan had told him a story of how they'd once been run out of a town because the magician's apprentice William had been caught in bed with some hoity toity senator's son. Apparently the poor kid had been brokenhearted. Hell, even amongst the dancers were rumors of relationships that went beyond just touching each other for the audience's entertainment. The woman who primarily took care of Raven for example, who went by the stage-name Destiny.
But even if Erik was willing to accept that he might have such...unusual preferences, there was nothing he could do about it. Charles belonged to Shaw, and it was obvious that the young man wasn't inclined to change that. Charles wouldn't cheat on Shaw just to help Erik test this mad theory.
The problem was, when Erik pictured being with Charles, it wasn't just his pants that grew painfully tight. Inside his chest his heat seemed to be doing rather the same thing.