Page 100 of Circus From Hell

“Atta boy. I wish I’d known earlier how fucked-up your little head is.”

I drag his arm, pulling the knife through flesh, slowly and carefully. His cock hardens completely, the piercings glinting with the knife blade, and he bucks his hips.

“This isn’t fair, Micha,” he whimpers.

“You’re right. It’s not.” I release him and take my top off, revealing my broad chest. “It’s your turn to cut me.”

His head snaps up, like he forgot that was part of the deal.

“Cut me like I cut our parents and the people who tried to take you from me, so every time you see a knife, you see blood, you think of this pleasure. I killed your mother, Arlo, because she didn’t care about you. And I killed my father because he laid his hands on you. The only person you will ever need is me. Now cut my fucking skin.”

The goading works.

His hand still shakes as it moves the knife away from him, blood across the keen edge and dripping down his chest. I’m not holding him anymore; he’s doing this on his own accord.

He watches intently as he presses the tip to my chest, dragging it without hesitation, staring at it like it holds the answer to his mental pain. My hand wraps around his cock as he drags it across, making me bleed, making me take his hurt.

“That’s it, little brother. I will harbour your pain for you for the rest of our lives.”

He still isn’t over his mother’s death, but they had a decent relationship when he was younger. She would take him to the circus, and it became his favourite. But that version of Nancy no longer exists, and she died selling her son for petty cash.

“You see that blood? It’s mine. It comes from my body, but it belongs to you. Like this cock of yours belongs to me.”

I stroke my hand down, feeling the ridges of his piercings. He pathetically bites his bottom lip, bucking up his hips.

“Keep cutting me, Arlo. My flesh is untouched, unmarred. It’s here for you to carve into.”

He follows orders as I pull my cock out of my trousers, hard and already leaking. I reach my hand out and drag the blood across his chest, smearing the proof of life, and it makes me twitch. I put one leg on the floor, the other kneeled between Arlo’s legs, and press my cock against his, wrapping both hands around us. He whimpers as I stroke us together, and the blade digs further into my chest, pooling more blood.

I look down and spit, coating our adjacent tips and smearing it with my hands.

“That knife comes off my chest, you don’t come. Got it?” He nods desperately, bucking his hips like he wants me to move. “Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

I thrust my cock into my hands, rubbing against the underside of Arlo’s, and he throws his head back. The knife digs in with every shift, but the pain is distant, overpowered by pleasure.

“Look at you, taking your big brother’s hand. I will never regret what I did, Arlo. Get that stuck in your pretty head,” I grunt out, fucking my hands faster, slipping against his wet cock, slick with saliva and precum. “Do you understand? Tell me you understand. Thank me for killing those people.”

“Thank you, Micha,” he cries, jerking his hips, silently begging for release. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“You won’t ever doubt what I do for you again. I will kill who I want for you. Karma will eat whoever she damn pleases. And you won’t be going anywhere. You’re stuck with us.”

“Good,” he groans, and his stomach twitches. He’s not far. “Please, Micha, more.”

I lean forward, shifting my hips quicker.

“Stick out your tongue.” He obliges, opening wide without missing a beat, and I spit onto his tongue. “Keep it like that. Let me watch it slide down your throat as I rub your long cock.”

His eyes roll as our balls rub together. He doesn’t move his hips, letting me control the pace completely, and he keeps his mouth wide open. My saliva drips down his tongue into the back of his mouth, and when it disappears, I say, “Now swallow, Pipsqueak. And thank me again.”

He gulps. “Thank you, Micha. Fucking thank you,” he cries, and I can see he’s on the verge, his eyes fluttering shut.

The knife falters as his orgasm teeters on the edge, and it moves from my skin. I stop immediately, ignoring my own impending orgasm, and Arlo snaps his pretty green eyes open, tears forming in the waterline as I edge him at the worst possible moment. He bucks his hips, chasing a ruined orgasm, but I squeeze his twitching cock tightly against mine so it doesn’t go anywhere.

“Fuck, fuck!” He looks down at me holding him captive before slamming his head back against the armrest.

“I told you, Arlo. You keep that knife digging into my flesh, or you don’t get to come.”

“I was right there,” he shouts, but I ignore his whiny protests.