Stuck [Eng version] | DiamondMirror |
Author: BlackTulipa (Me)
Language: English
Chapters: 1
Description:
He's a demon, and the truth, it's impossible, but I love his lies.
This oneshot takes place during the second chapter of One Thing.
This is purely fan content made by fans for fans. ☟
☞ The characters belong to Neko Bueno, or nekoboydreams on Tumblr! ☜
Warnings:
۵ Characters may not be entirely faithful to canon in some parts (Ticket Taker is a simp XD).
۵ Ship: DiamondMirror / MagicTicket (Jester x Ticket Taker). If you don't like this content, you can look for a fanfic that suits your interests.
۵ Suggestive content (not sexually explicit).
۵ Typical canon obsession.
Link to support on Wattpad: Stuck
Better to Warm Up in Pairs
Cold is psychological. It's only in your head. It'll pass if you pretend it doesn't-
"(Loud sneeze)." Ticket Taker bent forward, overwhelmed by the sudden exhalation. His throat burned, his lungs, his whole body. He was sure that cry had been heard all the way to the Moon, but he simply straightened up, adjusting his hat.
He had to maintain his diplomatic façade in front of his companions.
"Do you want a handkerchief?"
"No, thank you."
Doctor shrugged, pocketing the cloth. "As I was saying..."
No matter how much he tried to convince himself to escape the low temperatures torturing him, Bil was absurdly aware of them-especially in a situation that should be considered kidnapping. He was only having a pleasant chat with the doctor, nothing extraordinary, but it was against his will, since all he could think about was crawling under his blankets and forgetting everything.
The big guy shouldn't feel anything with all the fat piled on his mammoth body. Ugh. Lucky mastodon.
Suffering in secret, the ticket man shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling vulgar for the gesture. It seemed disrespectful to act that way while his colleague complained about the shortage of medicine, yet he didn't want his fingers to fall off from trusting the weather.
Honestly, the two‑tone man had done nothing but nod in affirmation, hoping his lack of enthusiasm went unnoticed. As much as he wanted to focus, the subject had lost all interest since it began. They rarely got sick, so the taller one's worries were because he'd have to pause his experiments-but Bil knew it would be rude to point that out.
Besides, he was glad Doctor had left his mad scientist lab, since he didn't consider it healthy to spend all his time torturing humans.
Because it was one of those rare occasions, the double‑faced man was willing to bite his tongue and endure the stiffness in his body, paying just enough attention to be involved in the one‑sided conversation.
"It's something simple, you know? Anyone could do it. That's why it bothers me so much not to have found it in any pharmacy in the last city. Don't they care about their health?"
Diligently, Bil nodded again, this time pretending to share the redhead's disgust at the poor hygiene of those townsfolk.
Who cares. Hopefully they all get sick. That way they'd be easier to hunt.
Then, a lightbulb went off in his head, finally managing to stop his companion's irritating monologue.
He raised a hand, silently grateful when Doctor shut his mouth. "You said it was doable, right?" The one with sky‑blue details nodded slowly, visibly lost in whatever he was suggesting. Ticket Taker struck an explanatory pose, smiling as he managed to find a solution to get out of this mess. "Why don't you do it yourself? Maybe it would be good for you to get involved in those processes."
Sorry. Please, don't lock yourself in your tent as always. I just want a little comfort.
The raven seemed to reflect on it, holding his chin. Then he looked animated, applauding the resolution proposed by the ticket man.
"How didn't I think of that before? Thanks, Bil." He looked pleased, faltering when he remembered a crucial detail. "Right... I forgot Pierrot was carrying the boxes with my ingredients. Well, I could help him. But what if he doesn't want me to? He might still be upset because I gave him an omeprazole instead of a mint. What should I do if-?"
"Good luck." Bil interrupted, visibly fed up, giving him a slight push in the direction where he remembered seeing the red one.
He didn't even manage to move him at first due to the size difference, exhaling when he finally got rid of him.
Once alone, Ticket Taker shivered at a cold gust of wind. He'd ask Pierrot to make hot chocolate for everyone-unless he was busy with Harlequin, as lately.
He didn't think Pierrot would be so ruthless as to drag the snake into a passionate encounter in the forest under these weather conditions. If Bil was trembling like jelly, he didn't want to imagine the younger's state.
Worried, he searched with his eyes, relieved to see him shoveling snow and Jester probably scolding him for breathing wrong.
He could imagine the conversation, with the boss moving gracefully while criticizing, and Harlequin making faces while downplaying the sermon.
The problem was that, if his eyesight hadn't deteriorated over time, the green one was only wearing his usual clothes instead of a proper coat. In other words, he was stupidly neglecting his own well‑being.
With the obvious intention of confirming his theory, he focused on his leader, acknowledging he still had the same sharpness-able to appreciate the perfection of his hairstyle, his pose, his refinement. The purple one had always had that bearing that imposed respect and authority, and TT had longed to break that façade for years. Secretly, of course, because Jester would definitely be angry if he knew what he provoked in the oldest member of the circus.
Knowing he admired him was more than enough.
He barely snapped out of his reverie when he noticed the leader approaching, forced to pretend he admired nature in general and not his magnificence.
Fortunately, instead of interrogating him for idling, the boss relaxed his expression as he stood in front of him. Ticket Taker noticed him discreetly scanning the area, moving his head slightly, searching for witnesses for some inexplicable reason.
Once he confirmed privacy, the leader took another step toward him, judging him with his gaze.
"What are you doing out here dressed like that?" Since apparently he had sermons to spare, Bil got one too, prudently glancing at his own outfit.
He wasn't bundled up head to toe and was freezing, yes, but he was going to change that until Jester distracted him with his alluring presence. Unfortunately, he didn't feel motivated to point out that both of them were practically wearing the same amount of clothing, so he dropped his shoulders instead.
"I was about to head back to my caravan." He clarified softly, remembering the important papers he still had to sign. Damn it. Why was life in society so complicated? He'd love to just feast on reckless campers.
The purple one watched him closely, smiling as if he had something planned. It couldn't be anything relaxing, coming from him.
"Did you finish your tasks?" he asked, tilting his head. Bil put monumental effort into not staring at the way his hair slid off his shoulder.
"Do you want me to do something?"
"Maybe."
"Then yes." His voice didn't tremble, but something in his boss's expression made him realize he'd caught his polite lie, accepting it. Maybe he let it slide because he knew Bil would handle it sooner or later-or because what he had planned was more important than paperwork.
He hated surprises. Still, he doubted Jester would reveal anything.
Before accepting his fate and leaving with the long‑haired one, TT gave the snake a quick glance, feeling troubled about abandoning him in the cold. "Do you think it's safe to leave him unsupervised? He could get sick. He's barely dressed."
"He knows how to take care of himself." The leader cut short, turning to look at Harlequin. "You know we can't leave him in the kitchen, and Pierrot and Doctor are faster at moving things. If he feels bad, he can go to any caravan to warm up and keep working."
The long‑haired one's indifference didn't rub off on Ticket Taker, though he agreed anyway, unconvinced.
Arguing with Jester wasn't worth it.
"Let's go to my caravan." The boss invited, ignoring how unusual the proposal was.
Normally they met in neutral places to talk about anything-unless it was truly important or private. The taller one didn't look stressed, so it couldn't be that.
He had something in mind, and the ticket collector was intrigued not knowing what.
Maybe it simply wasn't his business.
Either way, he loved spending time alone with his superior, and this would be the perfect chance not to flirt with him and then frustrate himself over feelings he refused to express.
Ugh.
If only he had the courage to confess and end it all, but he feared the purple one would throw his defeat in his face for the rest of their lives.
Before he realized it, they had already arrived at the younger's place. He opened the door and went in, leaving it open for TT to follow. Ignoring the lack of chivalry, TT entered without overthinking the extraordinary circumstances, stopping cold as he closed the door behind him and caught the concentrated scent of Jester in the room.
He had to put all his effort into not inhaling deeply, since he risked swallowing all the oxygen in the room. Besides, it would be weird.
Politely, he waited by the door for instructions on where to sit. The purple one pointed to the plush rug in the center of the room, and Ticket Taker assumed that was his spot, sitting at one end while listening to his companion rummage through the dresser.
It would have been far too strange if the silky‑haired one had told him to sit on his bed, so Bil settled for stroking the rug with his fingertips, wondering if his boss knew how many vermin could hide in those things. He felt tempted to fetch a vacuum and make sure no cockroach would crawl on him, holding back since Jester was hygienic enough not to allow pests in his room.
Normally, if anyone else had asked this of him, he would have refused loudly. The floor wasn't a place for him, since it was usually dusty-but if it was his leader asking, he'd even lick it. He was always willing to fulfill his whims, since so far they'd been things he could easily do. Being a loyal, diligent minion was something anyone could do. That's why he strove to be the ideal.
And still, Jester continued to carry most of the work on his shoulders.
Ticket Taker wished he would relax, since he rarely rested even during road trips. He was always watching everything and everyone, making sure they acted according to their roles. Caring for them from a prudent distance.
If only he'd stop acting like a fussy lady and, instead of wasting energy monitoring them, let Bil indulge him for once. He'd make sure all the tension in his body disappeared.
Selfish thought.
Jester begging? Ha. Not even in his wettest dreams.
He cut the thought short, watching his leader sit across from him, leaning his back against the plush mattress. He showed him a deck of cards-the same worn, old set they'd used countless times to entertain themselves with the others. Or alone, when the rest had their own matters to attend to.
"Do you want to play?" The long‑haired one began shuffling the cards without looking at him, performing impressive but unnecessary tricks in the process. "Or would you rather entertain yourself another way?" His voice was lower, deeper, almost like a purr, making Bil's stomach twist at the unusual tone.
He must have imagined it, right? Surely he was dizzy from Jester's scent flooding his brain.
He cleared his throat, sitting even straighter than he already was.
"I don't think I need a private language lesson. Thanks." The boss looked at him reproachfully, as if doubting his intelligence, gathering the cards into a deck. "What do you have in mind?" Ticket Taker pressed, trying to keep the rigid silence from stretching too long.
"Blackjack."
From the dry way the purple‑eyed one answered, the two‑tone man wondered if he'd said something wrong or insulting, dismissing it as a random tantrum. Maybe he'd had a bad afternoon and that's why he was acting demanding.
He wished he could do something to comfort him, but the younger was too arrogant to admit when he wanted something. He tended to expect that, by pulling a few strings, things would resolve themselves and what he wanted would come to him.
Bil couldn't judge him for that, since he was exactly the same in that regard.
Jester broke his concentration by placing a card face‑down in front of him, signaling the game had begun.
Both wrote down numbers they were willing to bet, similar to checks, which piled up on the leader's side as he won round after round.
He didn't even look satisfied after leaving TT literally bankrupt, sighing as if it bored him, counting the papers when the ticket man had to withdraw from the game.
His boss was a tyrant.
After finishing the calculations, the purple one set his new earnings aside, demanding something unintelligible from Ticket Taker with his gaze. It almost seemed like he was reproaching him for something he'd done-or hadn't done-and not knowing what kept him disoriented.
Tired of his silent complaints, the two‑tone man gave one last melancholic look at his lost savings before focusing on Jester, crossing his arms.
"What's wrong?"
Like a pout, the leader exhaled and looked away, leaning his back against the mattress.
"I'm extremely..." He stopped short, licking his lips with a face that looked seriously weighed down by the consequences his words might have. A brief glance at the ticket collector brought back his anger, as if it were a great sin that Bil couldn't read his mind. "Bored." He stated his condition with disdain, subtly furrowing his brow, pretending he meant something else.
He took the bills he'd swindled from his companion and began tearing them in half, destroying them like false promises. Ticket Taker refrained from getting his hopes up and reading whatever he wanted between the lines, preferring to celebrate mentally that he wouldn't return to poverty.
Once the monetary joy passed, he stopped to reflect on how damn frustrating it was not to fully understand his sovereign.
No matter how hard he tried-and considering it usually came naturally-not understanding what the younger thought of him was truly unsettling. When a stupid human looked at him, he understood it without having to think. Humans are simple. Pierrot and Harlequin are too, which is why he instantly noticed what was going on between them. Doctor was even simpler, since he didn't seem interested in anything beyond his work passion.
Why wasn't it like that with Jester?
Sometimes he assumed Jester only saw him as his right hand, his work partner, his colleague. Maybe a friend, if he gave himself too much credit, but he was never sure if the purple one saw him with other eyes.
He flirted with him sometimes, yes, and he didn't do that with anyone else, true-but the two‑tone man knew about his liberating encounters with those filthy creatures. And he was sure the boss knew about his own as well.
What was he supposed to do with the little he had?
An ambiguous hunch, not the usual certainty.
Maybe he was just overthinking something that didn't deserve it.
"What can I do to make you stop feeling that way?" he finally asked, aware of the long minutes they'd spent staring at each other when Jester seemed to come out of his own thoughts, contemplating him at length.
His expression suggested he knew exactly what he wanted, but the fact he didn't mention it meant he didn't dare ask.
How strange. He was never shy about his demands.
"Actually..." he barely murmured, playing with the deck of cards in his hands. Ticket Taker noticed the uncertainty swirling in his eyes, vanishing with a quick blink. "How about Strip Poker-but with Blackjack?"
The second‑in‑command widened his eyes at the suggestion, incredulous, processing those words while admiring the tyrant's confident smile, as if doubting he'd accept.
"Seriously?" he muttered, still surprised.
"I don't joke, Bil."
The mentioned man adored when he said his name, especially if the tone was possessive or severe. It gave hope to the part of him that longed to be his leader's property.
He swallowed hard, hoping that little saliva drowned the butterflies in his stomach.
"You should stop hanging out with Harlequin," he proposed, intertwining his fingers, reservedly shy.
"Well, he's usually busy with someone else. I'm not going to interrupt them."
Oh.
TT almost felt bad for the lovebirds, not wanting to think about how embarrassed they'd be if they discovered half the circus knew about their affair. Apparently both thought it would be too uncomfortable to reveal it, since not even the king of sadism had let them know.
"Stop dodging the question." Jester commanded, raising his chin without taking his eyes off his subordinate.
Shit.
How was he supposed to respond when he'd dropped the bomb without the slightest warning?
Thinking quickly about it, the older one weighed the pros and cons of that madness, striving to keep his face expressionless.
Pros: The tiny chance to admire his crush's-no, his boss's-figure. Cons: Showing vulnerability to someone who enjoyed others' suffering.
Who was he kidding? There were only good things there. Though, why would the purple one want to strip him?
Either way, they shouldn't do it. An incident could happen in the blue‑clad man's pants and their relationship would be destroyed forever. He'd lose the courage to look his superior in the eye.
But at the same time, he longed so much to see Jester's body-even if he had to resort to this low alternative...
He shouldn't desire anything from his leader. He already owed him too much to disrespect him like that, but the desire wouldn't go away no matter what he did.
At least he could take this as a mere consolation prize.
"If you insist so much." Reservedly, Ticket Taker lifted the weight off his shoulders, having the perfect excuse in case something went wrong. I didn't propose it, I just agreed to participate. Then he placed a hand on his knee, relaxing his posture slightly. "What are the extra rules?"
Because, of course, the long‑haired one never threw himself into any plan unless he could gain something for himself.
The purple one smiled slyly, raising five fingers. He pointed to one with his other hand. "Clothes must be removed sensually. Doesn't matter what it is." He began, tucking away the finger tied to that rule. TT nodded reluctantly, assuming this was a humiliation game. Jester must have been absolutely bored. "If you're going to take off something that comes in pairs, you must remove both." He continued, widening his smile before mentioning the next. "The winner chooses what the loser removes."
Bil felt a shuddering rumble in his chest at hearing that, grateful his expression hadn't changed. Not that Jester noticed.
Looking for the bright side, he supposed it couldn't be that bad. He doubted the purple‑eyed one would expose him in the first two rounds... or so he hoped.
He decided not to think too much about it, focusing on calming his racing pulse. To distract himself, he imagined his superior doing the worm dance just to take off a sock, failing to hold back a chuckle.
Alright. That was funny.
"If either refuses to take off a piece of clothing, he automatically loses and receives a punishment." Why did he sound so cheerful saying that? Ticket Taker didn't even want to imagine what that meant. "And lastly, the loser must be the other's slave for a week."
Oh no. How awful. Having to follow Jester everywhere and fulfill his whims. The two‑tone man would have to do the same, but with an inferior title. Life was so cruel...
Setting sarcasm aside, the two‑tone man thought it wouldn't be that bad. After all, he doubted his boss would do anything horrible to him. At most, he supposed he'd tease him by calling him a loser or maybe step on him in a twisted power game. How terrible. I hope it happens.
Damn. His fantasies were getting too bold that day.
He nodded, pretending he hadn't spent practically a minute staring at his colleague without saying anything. He had to justify it somehow, so he busied himself looking for loopholes in the rules.
"What if we tie?"
"That would count as both losing, so we'd both have to take off whatever we want."
"Wouldn't it be better to skip the turn?"
"That wouldn't be fun."
Fun for who?
Surrendering without a fight, TT agreed, receiving a card that wasn't even good enough to fan himself.
Making things worse, every time he lifted his gaze he met Jester's, making him doubt what kind of harassing strategy he was using to throw him off. The worst part was that it was working, since he kept receiving low‑value cards, and the fact his boss analyzed him so intently convinced him he was casting some kind of evil eye.
He didn't believe in that nonsense, but the purple one sometimes got intense with games-especially when he was willing enough to annoy his opponents.
Sure, it was nice to get a little attention, though no one liked being looked at like a perfectly cooked steak.
He knew it wasn't his day when he saw he'd barely accumulated 14 points and then got a 10, the boy on the card mocking him for showing up at such an inopportune moment.
Indignant, he forced himself to expose his defeat, feeling a vein pulse in his neck at the sight of an unflattering 6 in the younger's hand.
"What an unfortunate event." The boss mocked, radiant, acting as if he hadn't manipulated his opponent to reach that point. Well, technically he hadn't, but he had taken it personally to know his enemy. "What should I choose?" His voice sounded teasing, accentuated when his smile curved and he brought two fingers to his chin, scanning his companion from head to toe.
Ticket Taker wasn't worried about it. It was the start of the game, so he knew he wouldn't ask for anything crazy. Maybe the hat or the shoes.
"Take off your pants."
What...?
For a few seconds, the blue‑clad man doubted he'd heard right. He had to be mistaken, right? It was insane for his boss to jump so lightly-or had this been his intention from the start?
He stayed still, tense, waiting for Jester to laugh and admit he was only joking. That moment never came.
"Are you going to refuse?" The purple one almost seemed to enjoy the possibility, sharpening his eyes and tilting his head.
Bil took a deep breath, knowing he'd decided to play along only to put him in a good mood. With luck, he wouldn't discover a fetish related to stripping in front of romantic interests and everything would turn out as mediocre as possible. He could never compare to a proper stripper, but he hoped his superior would show at least a little interest in him after this.
Having to humiliate himself in the process wasn't so relevant.
With the goal in mind, he composed himself enough to remove his cumbersome shoes, plotting a strategy to get rid of the demanded garment.
Considering the purple one hadn't seen more skin than necessary and saw no reason for that to change (though he'd love it), TT felt he should act as if the fabric were on fire-but he knew his leader wouldn't be satisfied with that. The complication was he didn't know if Jester was looking for closeness, embarrassment, or mere spectacle, leaving him with no clue how bold to be.
What if Jester only wanted to laugh at him?
If he took this too seriously, he'd only reveal himself as a cheap whore-and Ticket Taker was anything but that.
A little mortified, he opted to test the limits with a single move, lifting one foot and resting it against his boss's mattress, cornering him.
The younger seemed pleased with his boldness, and the two‑tone man wondered what else he'd allow him to do.
Was he supposed to convince him to touch him? Dedicate a sexy sway? Surrender and confess the bizarre ideas filling his head with the long‑haired one's face so close to his crotch?
Calm down.
Keeping his eyes fixed on his superior's, Bil grew clumsy unbuttoning his clothes, shivering when the taller one rested his cheek on his thigh, maintaining eye contact.
Why does he torture me like this?
He had been the one to get close in the first place, so now he couldn't complain about the contact.
He limited himself to fulfilling his obligation, trying to ignore the tyrant's occasional glances at his private area and the perverse way his smile stretched every time TT failed to undo a button.
He was only mocking him. He hadn't even blushed at the proximity, sighing in disgust when the blue one finished his punishment and pulled away.
At least he was adequately satisfied to let it go instead of demanding another show.
The top‑hat wearer wavered between blaming the outside temperature or the nerves of being so exposed, exasperated by the chills constantly running through his body. He convinced himself it would improve if he found a position where his intimacy wasn't noticeable, trying to put it into practice.
The task was complicated by the fact his black boxer shorts were tight enough to leave little to the imagination.
To top it off, behaving like a complete shameless bastard, Jester didn't bother to hide his constant glances at his thighs, widening his hungry grin every time Bil shifted in place.
Resentful of how he was being treated, the monochrome‑masked one wished his opponent as much bad luck as he could muster, glad not to be the only loser when they tied. He'd have to strip too, but his relief remained at avoiding being left with his little friend cooling off.
He removed his fine hat, doubting there was a seductive alternative for doing so. He preferred to leave it atop his neatly folded pants, hurrying in case his boss noticed and complained he hadn't used his imagination.
He wished the rest of the game would be like that-cordial and far from heart‑attack provocation-not expecting what the leader would do next.
They were supposed to choose what to remove, right?
So why was he taking off his pants?!
Instinctively, and knowing he was seeing something he shouldn't (for the sake of his mental health), he tried to look away, catching in the corner of his eye how the dictator stopped his movements.
He thought he heard him click his tongue.
"Look at me." He ordered, harsh and demanding, closing half a meter in a single step when he didn't get an immediate response.
The ticket man knew he had to obey, since he wouldn't be able to resist the temptation if Jester dared to do the same as him in the previous round. He'd either suffer suffocated and in good terms, or receive all the contempt needed to kill him with a broken heart.
Risking it wasn't an option, so he complied, trying to stare at his boss while distracting his mind with matters unrelated to the context. That day's dinner, how much gas they'd need to buy at the next stop, whether Harlequin had finished his part and was resting, did Doctor fix things with Pierrot or did they stay silent until finishing moving the boxes? All of that helped him play blind to his boss's elaborate sways, the agility with which he shed his covers, the suspicious gleam in his eyes when TT dared to lift his gaze.
The minion even wondered if Pierrot had taught him his dance steps-or maybe he was just dazzled because he liked anything his sovereign did.
His efforts not to enjoy the show were shattered when he noticed what the purple one wore under his pants, urgently needing to cross his legs to avoid exposing himself as the sexually frustrated idiot he unfortunately was.
So, lace underwear? That's low, you cheap cheater.
Jester let out a chuckle, and Ticket Taker knew his cheeks were red from the burning heat covering them, but he didn't plan to say a word about it.
"Why are you so nervous, Bil?" The bastard struck a seductive pose, playing with one of the straps over his thighs, letting it snap against his skin, producing muffled sounds like a whip.
The older one felt his throat dry, giving a quick glance at his own crotch to make sure he wasn't at a disadvantage. Confirming he was safe, he relaxed his posture, thinking of some way not to openly say what had him so... aroused.
"I'm astonished." Preferably, he'd hold back from saying what fascinated him, though his boss didn't pry further, so he kept the rest of the truth to himself.
"Stop getting distracted, or I'll go for your underwear next time." He threatened, sitting with his legs bent but open, revealing the skin inside his thighs. TT would feel honored if he let him bite them, mark them, touch them even with the tips of his claws.
Hurrying to escape that loop of carnal meditations, the blue one focused on his superior's ultimatum, believing him incapable of that...
Well, he hadn't thought he'd take off his pants just like that either, and he had, so he couldn't trust him.
The game continued, this time in a restless atmosphere, since the two‑tone man barely managed to fight the impulse pressing him to look beyond his terrible cards. Being caught red‑handed made his conscience weigh on him, making him suppose Jester saw him as a pervert at this point-though, in his defense, the purple one was teasing him too.
If they were just going to spend the whole game staring at each other's legs like a pair of lunatics, wouldn't it be better if they touched too? That is, Bil would do anything in exchange for his boss choking him with his thighs. In fact, even with the soles of his feet, if he preferred.
Overwhelmed by the delirium invading him in persistent hordes, the second‑in‑command decided he wanted to end the torment quickly, sacrificing himself with a feeble 16.
He supposed with that his leader could get a laugh, take whatever he wanted from it, and let him leave in peace-but the bastard confirmed he didn't plan to let him go by showing a 14.
That was on purpose.
Jester never let him win. He'd humiliated him in the previous game, really, and now acting so compassionate was incomprehensible.
If he wanted to do his subordinate a favor so he'd stop feeling like a terrible player, he didn't need to.
Anyway, proving who was the truly kind one in the room, Ticket Taker only asked him to remove his hat, basking in his own generosity.
"You're pretty shy." His superior seemed to joke, spared from TT's lack of motivation to explain the big difference between shyness and consideration.
The purple one held the brim of his hat and tugged, stripping it off in one pull. Then, in a vague attempt to look impeccable, he shook out his hair and fixed it with his hands, overwhelming the older one with the scent of his shampoo spreading around.
At the same time he was short of breath, the double‑faced man felt slightly accomplished. It had been silly, yes, but the younger had voluntarily given him control, and that gave him a rush of pride.
Unfortunately, his swagger only lasted until the next round, when he stupidly lost and had to go without shoes.
Almost seemed planned.
When the boss lost a round, it was fair to assume it was because he wanted to see what his companion would take off. After satisfying his curiosity, he'd defeat him to secretly remind him who dominated the situation-and Bil accepted it because, despite his integrity being at stake, he also benefited from his superior's snooping.
Still, he refused to give his leader the reactions he seemed to demand, which visibly caused him discontent. The blue one made sure to stay stoic even after winning two rounds in a row, striving not to pay attention to the persistent lure drawing him to the other's crotch.
He had to maintain a minimum of decency.
"I'm surprised how warm this place has gotten." The leader began smoothing the fabric of his shirt, occasionally lifting the hem and revealing part of his abdomen. "I didn't even have to turn on the stove."
TT swallowed hard, feeling a bead of sweat slide down the side of his face to his neck. Words were cut from his throat, forcing him to disenchant himself so as not to make a fatal mistake.
Digging into the reasons that might have brought him to this moment and place, he realized Jester knew. He no longer had doubts. The purple one wasn't stupid, just as Ticket Taker wasn't a master of disguise. Pretending all this didn't point to the same premeditated provocation would be admitting a shortage of neurons.
The younger undeniably knew of his attraction to him, and, knowing him, maybe he'd arranged this encounter to feed his illusion and make sure his fall to reality was devastating.
That, or he wanted Bil to beg for a chance-which definitely wouldn't happen.
"Take off your gloves and shoes."
How far would his superior take this?
He wouldn't be surprised to learn the lace underwear had been a joke, which made him suppose there could be another trick behind the scenes-but then what? Would they get dressed again and go back to their business? Never mention it again?
Most likely, the first to end up in underwear would be the loser. Naturally, he didn't see why the long‑haired one would want to see his... thing.
He didn't want to speculate about whatever reason might cross his boss's twisted mind, accepting he only wanted to degrade him.
Bitterly, he thought the humiliated one would end up being his superior. Not because of the undue confidence his two victories gave him nor the luck accompanying him in this round, but because, in the end, Jester had given him abundant material to please himself for life in his nights.
Delighted, he flaunted his 20 points, clenching his jaw when the purple one flaunted his perfect Blackjack.
TT heard his dreams and hopes shatter like glass.
Resigned, he brushed his hair back while waiting for the younger to give the order, hesitating when he caught him staring intently at that organ. Not his thigh, his belly, or whatever was on the floor behind him. He could trace a straight line in the air and it would fall right where he feared.
Was he planning to carry out the earlier threat? How daring. Though, realistically, maybe he was just lost in thought and looking anywhere.
And what a place to do it...
A little embarrassed, as much as he hated to admit it, the blue one moved as slowly as a snail to close his legs, receiving a mischievous smile from the leader. Boldly, he placed one hand just centimeters from the older one's thigh, resting the rest of his weight on his knees and leaning forward. His free hand approached Ticket Taker with torturous slowness, keeping him alert about what his target was, since the tyrant was staring into his eyes with too much intensity.
The two‑tone man had to put everything into not alarming or retreating, knowing full well how Jester changed attitude when someone showed weakness before him. He wasn't interested in being seen as another submissive, fearful prey, so he forced himself to breathe at the same rhythm and return the eye contact, relaxing when one of the younger's fingers pressed a button on his shirt.
"Take off the jacket." The ruler decreed, using the same claw to lift his companion's chin, barely pressing the soft flesh.
He didn't pull away after speaking, narrowing his eyes while paying close attention to his subordinate's involuntary actions-and the latter reciprocated the gesture without hesitation, involving himself more than he should in this overwhelming closeness.
Bil inhaled deeply, intoxicated by his sovereign's scent, savoring it more than the residual smell in the room. He thought he noticed his hair, usually impeccable, slightly tousled where the hat had been. His makeup was a little smudged too, since they hadn't had time to retouch it since leaving the last town. These details didn't change the idyllic way he saw his superior, mere slips only noticeable in confidence. Yet one in particular caught his attention.
The most relevant, in his opinion, were Jester's pupils. In the scant space between them, he could clearly see how abnormally dilated they were, making him uncomfortably aware of the persistent prickling touch on his chin. This was something that usually happened when they stared uninterruptedly, but it was incomparable to other times. It wasn't the usual warm, encouraging look, but that of a hunter about to devour his prey.
And, oh. He longed so much to be devoured by him.
Luckily, before he committed the biggest mistake of his life and lunged at his boss to kiss him with desperate passion, the purple one returned to his place, sticking out his tongue as if he hadn't just rearranged all of Bil's organs.
The devotee could barely think clearly as he removed the selected garment, momentarily forgetting he now had one less cover for his shame. He began folding his clothes (unlike his leader, who tossed them everywhere) while trying to shed his frozen‑fish expression, enduring the growing heat in his cheeks when he heard an obvious flirtatious whistle from the younger.
He frowned in annoyance, snorting. "I'd appreciate it if you stopped mocking me." He practically complained, grabbing a random piece of the long‑haired one's clothing to tidy it and distract himself from the teasing smile he got in response.
Once he ran out of fabric to cover his view, he noticed the opposite face soften, leaning more of his weight on the edge of the bed while adopting a coquettish pose. He looked very comfortable, but noticing the elegant motion he made to tuck his hair behind his ear, his act became ridiculously obvious.
"I'm not mocking you, Bil." He affirmed, and the mentioned man wanted to believe him.
He really wished he could.
Unfortunately, he didn't have Jester's ability to read others, and it was less painful to keep convincing himself that, contradicting what he said, he was indeed playing with him.
Better to kill the illusion than feed it until it burst in shame.
Besides, the purple‑eyed one dedicated himself to manipulating all events to his convenience, acting in ways he thought would get a reaction from the older one, and he'd had plenty of fun making him nervous. He took for granted he'd get his way, smiling at Ticket Taker like a child after a prank, ignoring that he'd irrationally lost again.
TT simply sighed, looking for the most decent garment to take from him, settling on his superior's long, translucent stockings.
The purple one took the edge of one, slipping two fingers in and pushing slowly downward, visibly delighting in the greedy gaze his colleague could barely control. His greatest weakness had always been his boss's legs-so long and beautiful-and this was only fate's test to measure his self‑control.
Fortunately, he snapped out of the trance by pinching his thigh, realizing he'd already enjoyed the full show when he saw the garment fly to the side.
Jester's soft skin was exposed now, pale, tempting. The older one wondered how long it would last with bite marks and kisses, whether it was soft or firm, whether it would bruise with just a squeeze of his hands.
Damn. He'd have a heart attack if he didn't distract himself soon.
"How far do you plan to take this?" The double‑faced man focused all his interest on shuffling the cards, making sure to appreciate the worn edges.
He thought he caught his leader looking at him mischievously, shrugging.
"I don't know."
Ticket Taker thought of protesting the lack of a precise answer, but held back, assuming his leader would get bored if he made sure to stop giving him what he wanted.
He placed a card in front of the purple one, giving one last glance at his lower limbs before returning to his place.
"What do you think of me?"
The blue one nearly dropped the cards at hearing his superior's question, looking at him as if he had two heads.
His expression had turned serious, focused, and-ugh.
He knew he couldn't lie.
Jester saw everything.
TT opened and closed his mouth a few times, feeling indignation rush into his mind.
Was that what this whole game was about? Exposing him both physically and emotionally?
The older one believed his boss held him in enough esteem not to pull such a dirty trick, breathing deeply, striving to relax instead of making a scene.
Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's.
If ruining his most loyal subordinate's day was what he needed to cheer up, so be it.
He only hoped his disappointment didn't show.
He cleared his throat, pondering what vague answer he could give to escape the interrogation without repercussions.
"You're the one who keeps the circus afloat." He summarized, knowing that was the main reason he'd set his eyes on him. How responsible and dedicated he was despite being the second youngest among them. He saw no reason to confess all his embarrassing thoughts that went beyond companionship.
Everything would be less awkward if they stuck to their business roles. Simple work partners.
Jester openly showed his displeasure, making the two‑tone man doubt if he'd said something wrong. In fact, he'd complimented him, hadn't he? He literally called him the pillar of their lives-of his life-and still he was defeated like a novice in the next round.
It would be naïve to keep ignoring reality. The tyrant wouldn't stop soon, proving it when he demanded his lackey's shirt, exasperating him with his insolence at convincing him to show so much skin. That only having socks, gloves, and boxers left showed his superior didn't care about his dignity-or that he reveled in pressuring him for a better view.
It was as if he wanted to see how naked he was willing to get before demanding they stop.
If only the long‑haired one didn't go so far off track and explained this was a prelude to something more, Bil would personally take control of the situation and benefit them both with this encounter-but that wasn't the case. The boss was only measuring his limits, like a cat cornering a mouse, and most likely wouldn't even consume him upon catching him.
It was frustrating, and he knew Jester could see through him, but he refused to accept defeat so easily.
He had honor to defend.
"Don't you want to know what I think of you?" The younger asked casually, lifting his gaze from his cards to see TT's expression.
He was curious, especially since the subject was brought up by the leader, but he didn't bother to show it, shrugging as if he didn't care.
"If you haven't told me until now, it must be for a reason." He concluded, not knowing what to think upon seeing the purple one briefly melancholic. He preferred not to comment on it.
"You trust me a lot, huh?" The ruler murmured, showing his cards.
He had lost in a ridiculously absurd way. Who takes more cards after reaching 20 points?
Bil simply nodded, watching closely as his superior removed his jacket, complaining when it was tossed onto his face without warning. He nearly pressed it against himself and inhaled as if his lungs could stretch infinitely, hurrying to take it off and fold it.
His face was on fire, blaming it on the heat his leader had mentioned earlier, assuming that was also why he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt without being asked. His gallant expression was a bonus.
"Do I look attractive to you?"
For a few seconds-exactly three-the double‑faced man widened his eyes, overwhelmed by the betraying palpitations inside his ribs. Choking on oxygen was an extra consequence of the momentary failure of all his neurons, managing to compose himself before looking like a brainless fool.
Why was he asking something like that? So direct...
The ticket man held his chin with two fingers, reviewing most of Jester's qualities he found fascinating.
His hair was silky and shiny, and it smelled good, looking majestic no matter how he styled it. His face wasn't delicate like a woman's, but neither coarse like a man's, giving him that delicate beauty in the middle ground. His torso could be considered slim, since he didn't have a toned abdomen, but it was clear he wasn't weak either. His back bore some scars, all from the abuse they suffered under the human who enslaved them, but even those imperfections looked perfect on him. His hands were divine, with fine, graceful fingers, not a single callus or mark. His legs were his undoing-not thin, not thick-the exact definition of exquisiteness. Ticket Taker dared to say even his shadow was adorable.
He was sure his leader would be horrified if he spilled half that speech, especially knowing he'd skipped several elements just to avoid spending an hour praising his lord, forcing himself to wear a disinterested scowl.
"You're magnificent." He limited himself to saying, hoping that meager word encompassed all his feelings while sounding cordial. Professional.
Wow. It would be far less embarrassing to confirm the thousand and one naughty things he'd like them to do to each other.
If only he had the courage.
Jester smiled at him as if expecting more, scoffing at the bland compliment.
Another round. The boss lost intentionally, as always, and made sure to drive the older one crazy with the sight of his entire torso.
How long would this last?
The purple one was only wearing his scant underwear, but he hadn't surrendered or admitted defeat. In fact, he smiled like someone who already had the trophy in his hands.
Did he really want to keep going?
TT furrowed his brow, intrigued, pinching the bridge of his nose while shaking his head.
"What are you planning?" He finally asked, too overwhelmed by the situation to keep ignoring the elephant in the room.
The younger's smile curved upward at the edges, deliberately giving himself away. "I'm not planning anything." He sang, letting out a chuckle as he confirmed his subordinate's patience was burning out like a lit fuse.
"You're always planning something." It couldn't be considered an accusation if it was true, and Jester still looked at him the same way one would look at someone who condemned you to the gallows, rolling his eyes and sighing listlessly.
The next murmur sounded like a thought spoken aloud, barely understood as a "guess I'll have to get serious" before his expression changed, signaling the mischief was over.
After losing three consecutive rounds, the two‑tone man justified it by claiming his opponent was cheating, grumbling complaints about the huge advantage he had in a game that was all about analyzing your enemy and knowing when he lied.
In conclusion, he had lost, and he was supposed to strip down as he came into the world...
Did his leader really think he would?
Well, by the way he looked at him, it seemed he really wanted him to.
The ticket collector tried to convince himself that Jester's suddenly lustful eyes were just his imagination, finally accepting that his superior had had double intentions from the start when, without warning, he squeezed his thigh with one hand, leaning over him as if planning to claim him right then.
Yes, yes, yes, yes!
TT was surprised his heart hadn't managed to escape his chest, considering the alarming force with which it crashed against his ribs.
"Is this a joke...?" He asked in a thread of voice, shivering at the touch sliding up his skin, stopping far too close to his private area. He barely held back a gasp when he felt the thumb massage his inner thigh.
"A deal is a deal, Bil." The boss leaned in to whisper it in his ear, letting out a satisfied exhale at making his devotee shiver. Ticket Taker could feel the constant change in the other's touch, as if he doubted how much force he could apply without breaking him. His gaze had softened too, seeming like a carrot‑and‑stick game when he gave a gentle tug at the edge of the older one's underwear with his claw, benevolent enough not to tear it. "Are you going to take this off?"
The two‑tone man grabbed his hand abruptly as a reflex, biting his lower lip. He knew what would happen if he kept up this indecisive tantrum, but his throat had closed, preventing him from giving a coherent answer. He didn't want Jester to take this as just another casual fling. If he was going to give himself, he needed confirmation that the passion would end on his own terms-or that they'd be one of those sappy couples who endured until one of them perished. That they'd assume monogamy as part of their lives.
Would anything change if he confessed?
Tormented, he shook his head, unsure if he was answering himself or his superior.
It's your only chance. Take it.
"Oh, Bil." He raised his hand to caress the other's cheek, forcing him to look into his eyes. The mentioned man hoped he wouldn't notice his growing anguish, raising his brows when he met the turbulent glory in the younger's expression. "Are you sure you want the punishment?" His tone was syrupy and thick, indirectly begging for his consent.
Ticket Taker felt his chest lurch, behaving like the desperate man he was as he cupped Jester's face in his hands, pulling him closer without daring to claim his lips. He barely dared to tousle a few strands of his hair, smiling when his superior seized the intimate moment to give him a simple kiss on the cheek, totally inappropriate given the circumstances.
And, of course, he would accept anything he wanted to give.
"Yes." His voice shared the long‑haired one's insatiable thirst, the desire and impurity corrupting his mind to the point he could only think of him. Of taking him, of being taken, anything to break that invisible barrier between them and give way to an immature happily ever after.
He was about to complain when the purple one stood, pulling away from his touch and walking unhurriedly until he was behind the ticket man. He could feel his presence at his back, wondering if this was part of the supposed penalty. His suspicions were confirmed when he felt the younger play with his claws, using them to graze his neck and ears.
"Cross your arms behind your back." He dictated, soft and serene, crouching just centimeters from his lackey the instant he obeyed. "Good boy." He praised, gripping the ends of his shoulders as he placed him in the position most comfortable for him.
The blue one trembled as he was affected by a warm exhale directly on his nape, clenching his hands into fists while grateful his leader couldn't see his face, since he had no idea what disturbing expression he was showing at that moment.
"Don't move." Jester whispered with authority, forcing his subordinate to swallow a whimper after receiving a hard bite in the space between his shoulder and neck, barely managing not to arch his back in search of more contact.
He gasped half the air in his lungs when the teeth left his flesh, replaced by a tongue dedicated to licking his wounds.
He dropped his shoulders when the affection ended, unable to demand more of that rough tenderness.
"I want to hear you."
He hadn't even processed the words when he endured another bite almost in the same spot, bruising the previous one in the process.
Shame began to eat him alive, doubtful of what obscene sound might escape his throat under those conditions, hissing as he endured yet another attack basically on top of the other two.
"That's not enough." Jester tugged his hair, tilting his head to the side to expose his neck, giving him a softer bite than the previous ones, though riskier for the location.
The two‑tone man felt dizzy from the overload of adrenaline pumping through his veins, driving him mad while clouding his vision with stars and blurs, leaving him willing enough to let out an involuntary whimper. He had the hunch his superior had felt it, considering his teeth remained sunk into his throat, making him doubt whether he'd finish the bite or let the mark fade after a few days.
Ticket Taker didn't care; in fact, he'd love them to be eternal.
At least then he'd have something binding them together.
His hair was released, the touch sliding torturously down to his abdomen and inner thigh, staying there with steady gropes far from where they were truly needed. Bil held back from asking for anything, clenching his jaw and brow each time a sensitive spot was pressed, knowing it was provocation.
"I know you can do better." The ruler consoled him, giving prolonged kisses and licks to his nape before sinking his fangs as if it were a piece of meat.
The added stimulation, plus the bite in that sensitive area, was enough for the ticket collector to arch and let out a moan, writhing in place while Jester consumed him again and again, stopping after abusing nearly all of his colleague's nape.
Ticket Taker was a drooling, panting mess, his arms obediently behind his back, trembling, used to lift him and throw him onto the bed.
He had to bring his hands forward to avoid falling face‑first onto the mattress, meeting the tyrant head‑on when he turned to demand answers, finding himself cornered by the beast. Without hesitation, Jester lunged to kiss him wildly on the neck, jaw, corner of his mouth, rubbing against him as if there weren't fabric between them.
TT felt his ego swell when he realized the younger was in the same condition as him, desperately craving release, so he decided to try his luck and drag him into a wet, messy kiss, rewarded when all the desire he'd held back for years was instantly reciprocated.
The long‑haired one's lips moved over his with curiosity, varying between soft, romantic rhythms or rough, impatient ones, always making sure his companion was comfortable with it. What he didn't seem to understand was that even if he tore a piece off, Bil would be happy with it. That's why, even though he was certainly suffocating, he opposed the instant they separated to catch breath. Despite his initial refusals, the ticket collector smirked at the disheveled state of his colleague, with flushed cheeks and bitten lips, wishing that image would be tattooed in his memory.
"Bil." He called, receiving a vague "hm?" in response. "You know you'll be busier from now on, right?"
The named man blinked a few times, covering his face with a hand to hide the blush and the goofy smile painted on his lips.
It had been a horrible declaration, if it could even be called that, but it was better than nothing.
"I like my new task." He hugged his bossy by the shoulders, pulling him close to continue the kissing session that should never have stopped.
Jester pulled him upward, positioning himself between his legs and kneading his hips as if asking permission for something more-something Ticket Taker granted without resistance. He didn't care who took whom, he just wanted to be with him already. It didn't matter if it hurt, if it was uncomfortable, if he regretted it later.
Nothing would make him waste this chance.
"Ticket Taker, I already got-" His chatter stopped cold, freezing like the lovebirds he'd just caught in such an embarrassing situation. Instead of leaving to pour bleach in his eyes or scolding himself for not knocking before entering, Doctor pocketed a suspicious vial and pulled out a notebook, suddenly looking as if he had sparkles around him. "Can I observe you for scientific purposes?"
The boss had to calmly explain what privacy was, leaving the poor ticket man beating a pillow over the fiasco.
He'd make sure to hide his medications for a month from that bastard.
