#roustabout

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That this road was not a safe one was acknowledged by the fact that Arthur carried a pouch full of coins on his belt. It was a payment, reserved for the bandits that were sheltered in the thick, shrubby pines that lined each side of the road. There had been some argument as to how much the pouch should contain when Darrin’s party left the keep because the family had avoided the Bent Spite road for severla years, choosing instead to wind around it and keep to safer paths. Unfortunately, reports had come in that the wet spring had made those particular paths even slower than usual and for once, speed was a consideration. Darrin was wanted at the Reeve’s court to present himself so judgement could be made as to whether he could be his mother’s heir and as much of a formality as the ritual usually was, it could not be avoided in his case. For a changeling, for the changeling, nothing could be taken for granted. 

And so his mother chose the shorter, cleaner path, and insisted that the bribe to the bandits hidden there be more substantial than usual. Darrin’s father, cheap bastard that he was, had held out until almost the day they had to leave, and only gave in because he always gave in when the full force of his wife’s will was focused on him. 

He’s got kind of good, and he’s just starting to wonder whether he should go to some other circus and offer his skills there when the news reaches him that they’re actually in need of a new act where he is. You and your husband have split up. He found some other attractive little thing and has gone off with her to work at Carver’s, the carnival’s main competition. He finds you alone and crying in one of the big tents. 

“Hey…”

It’s not long before his arms are around you and you’re sobbing on his shoulder instead. 

“What am I going to do now?” You wail. “No-one wants half a knife-throwing act! I’m not even the good half!”

Charlie can’t let such a good opportunity pass him by, so he offers to take your husband’s place. You’re not convinced, but you’re also not sure what other choice you have. So you say yes, and that you’ll practise for the show later that day, when you’ve had a chance to calm down. 

***

“Come on baby, you have to get on the board. I can’t just keep throwing knives without any jeopardy. I have to practise!” 

Charlie is getting frustrated. His aim is just about perfect, but you still won’t let him throw knives at you. You keep trying to get on the board, and then you freak out and get back off again. 

“I just don’t know how to trust someone else,” you sigh, sitting down on the floor. 

“Let’s take a break,” he suggests. “Why don’tcha come back to my trailer, we’ll have a drink and talk about it.”

You nod. Anything to get out of this vicious circle. Plus, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find Charlie attractive and want an excuse to see inside his trailer. He doesn’t have the greatest reputation but he’s only ever been sweet to you. 

One drink turns into a few and before you know it Charlie is kissing you. His lips are soft and he smells of leather. He pulls you tightly against him and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. Somewhere in the middle of the kiss he has an idea. 

“You don’t trust me?” He asks, softly. 

Your head is spinning. “Um… well… I wouldn’t say that I just… I’m not sure about you throwing knives at me.”

He gets up and starts searching around in the piles of things in his trailer. You frown, wondering what is suddenly so important. Sitting up on the bed you try to smooth your hair down and rearrange your mussed up clothes. Suddenly he finds whatever it is and climbs back onto the bed beside you. To your complete and utter surprise he holds up a pocket knife and flicks it open. 

“How about, to start with, I don't throw them?”

You blink, uncomprehending. He picks up one of your hands and then presses the blade of the knife against your outstretched arm. You flinch at the cold metal against your skin. 

“See? Nothing to be afraid of.” Sliding the flat of the blade up and down your forearm. 

The hairs on your arms stand on end and you very quickly sober up. 

“Charlie, what are you doing?”

“Trying to prove that you can trust me.”

Your chest heaves and your heart beats wildly as he slowly unbuttons your blouse, exposing your bra. His lips press against yours and then you feel that cold metal against your skin again. Slipping over a breast, sliding down your stomach. 

“Ch-Charlie,” you stutter, as his lips leave yours and he carries on undressing you. 

“You can trust me, baby.”

He pulls his clothes off too, until you’re both naked, and then runs the blade up each of your legs in turn. You tremble, afraid but desperately turned on too. What if he’s secretly some kind of psycho? He could just stab you to death in here and no-one would know. Your babbling brain is suddenly silenced by his tongue against your clit. Licking firmly and quickly, he brings you to a surprisingly fast climax, watching you as you squirm and moan beneath him on the bed. 

“Charlie,” you breathe. 

He smiles, sitting with his back against the headboard and manhandling you onto his lap, your back against his chest. You can feel his erection pressing into the small of your back. 

He puts his mouth to your ear. “Can you sit on it, honey?”

“Oh God, yes.”

You get up onto your knees and reach for his dick, carefully positioning it so that it slides easily inside. Once you’ve settled down onto it completely he moans and kisses your neck again. Then he grabs the knife from where he’d left it on the bed when he’d been licking you out, and flicks it back open. You gasp as you feel him run the point of the blade down your throat and down across your breast. He changes the angle, rolling the flat around your nipple, feeling your pussy clench as he does it. 

“You like that, baby?” He asks, breath tickling your ear. 

“Yes. Fuck.”

“How about this?”

The blade slips over your belly and comes to a halt on your clit. Your head tips back as you breathe hard, your whole body shaking. 

“Yes.” Your voice wobbles. 

“You gonna move for me baby? Bounce on this cock?”

“Ch-Charlie…”

“Mmmm.” He buries his face in your neck, kissing and biting you. “C’mon baby. I know what I’m doing.”

“You promise me?” Your voice a hoarse whisper. 

“I promise you.”

You start to move on him, slowly at first, anxious that he might lose control of the knife that’s still pressed against your most sensitive area. The pleasure is incredible, but Charlie isn’t about to lose control. He keeps the knife where it is, enjoying watching your reaction, seeing your confidence build as you start to move more and more, faster and faster. Your breasts bouncing as you ride him properly, forgetting completely about the danger of the knife. He grins, throwing the knife quickly across the room and replacing it with his thumb, starting to move his hips now, fucking you from underneath. 

“Ohhhh…” you moan, getting close to your second orgasm. 

“Let go for me, baby.”

You do, feeling pleasure rush through you again. He fucks you through it and comes not long after, deep inside you. Groaning sexily into your ear. You flop back against him, exhausted from the orgasms and the adrenaline. 

“You think I could try throwing knives at you now?” He asks as his dick softens inside you. 

You smile. “Yeah. I think I could trust you to do that.”

***

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