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The full moon is high overhead, lighting the well-worn dirt path out of town. This time of year, the trail is lined with lanterns, strung together on a string. They dance in the October breeze, the candlelight flickering but not going out. The path is not long, but it’s steep and it winds up the hill that guards the west side of the village.
Keith walks that path with purpose, his hands shoved deep in his worn trouser pockets to stave off some of the bite of the late-night chill.
At the top of the hill lies a large empty space, kept clear of new growth by the village to use the space for festivals and celebrations. In the summer the space is filled more often than not with travelling markets and wedding celebrations, but in the fall and winter it lies largely barren.
Now, however, the top of the hill is lit with candles and torches bright enough to cast a glow over the edge of the hill, giving Keith something to work towards. As he approaches, he starts to hear the sounds of the villagers milling through the patchwork tents.
There’s a carnival of sorts in town for the week and it’s caught the imagination of the entire village. Everyone’s been, and most have returned repeatedly each night. There’s just so much to see, and there’s a different act in the main tent each night.
It’s equal parts circus and freak show. Some tents are set up like museum exhibits, with displays of giants’ clothing, pinned fairy wings, and bottled creatures long-deceased. Others have live creatures; like the petting zoo of multi-coloured fluff balls. One of the bigger tents has a massive water tank that holds a blue merman and a beautiful pink naga woman who dance together through the water for the villagers’ entertainment.
Keith passes these tents without giving even a passing glance. He surges past groups of slow-moving onlookers and dodges screaming children who have been allowed to run wild through the maze of tents. He moves like a man on a mission to the main tent.
Inside, the massive tent is brightly lit. Villagers sit, pressed together, on all sides, watching the first act. This one is a trapeze act. A small monkey girl in green overalls, The Amazing Flying Pidge, climbs and swings high over their heads. There’s no safety net, just a large man in yellow, their strong man, hovering below ready to catch the speedy little beast should her hands, feet, or tail fail her.
Keith hardly even registers the girl’s antics, or the dramatized worry of the strongman. He glares around him until he spots the ringleader, a tall man with a prodigious moustache, and makes a beeline for him.
Coran sees Keith coming and makes a long-suffering face, though Keith doesn’t miss the way he reaches immediately for his coin purse – ready to receive the bounty of Keith’s munificence.
Keith can’t help but to hang his face as he approaches Coran. It’s the 7th time he’s done this in 7 nights, but still he can’t help the sting of shame as he comes trotting back once again.
Keith has always prided himself on his self-sufficiency. He doesn’t depend on anything – not people, not company, not booze – nothing. He is free of those desires that sink other men.
Or, well… he was.
“Back again, I see,” Coran comments in that strange, foreign accent of his. There’s a part of Keith that thinks it’s an act – no one really talks like that. But then, everything else in this strange carnival of the otherworldly is legitimate, why not this ridiculous accent.
Keith doesn’t answer, just shrugs and counts out his copper pennies.
“You’re a bit late tonight. Show’s already started.”
Keith can feel Coran’s sharp eye on him, and he falters in his count. He’s late because it took him all day to work up the coppers needed to come. He’s already blown through his meagre savings.
“Was working,” he says and drops the correct amount into Coran’s waiting hand.
Coran only glances at it to count it all and then tips the money into his purse.
“Very good, very good,” he says. He gives a cursory look around then steps aside, pulling aside the flap in the tent that leads back into the performer’s area.
Keith ducks quickly inside and the flap closes behind him, leaving him in near-total darkness. He doesn’t need light to know where he’s going, though. He already has the path memorized from the last 6 nights.
He moves quickly through the prep area behind the main tent and out through a connecting tent set up as a kind of hallway. He makes his way to the last tent, the one set back away from the rest of the carnival, the one most people are told is out of limits.
The inside is dimly lit and strangely organized. Dark black curtains hang everywhere, creating another, circular tent inside the larger. Every three feet is sectioned off with more black curtains, creating a series of individual rooms aimed inward.
Keith moves along to the right until he finds an empty spot for himself. He can hear the muted sounds of music and beneath that are the soft sounds of men and woman in the other rooms, enjoying the show.
It’s not too busy tonight it seems, so it doesn’t take long for Keith to find a place.
There’s no light inside the little makeshift room except what comes in from the small rectangle cut in the fabric. There’s a wooden chair at the centre and Keith moves it close to the slit in the curtain before he sits down and leans forward to peer through the space to the inner tent.
It’s built like a giant bird cage, with metal bars running the length of the space and more towering up to meet at the point high above. A swing hangs from the centre on thick chains.
And on the swing: perfection.
A large, well muscled man stands on the swing.
Shiro.
He’s absolutely gorgeous in the bright lights of his cage. His red-orange wings look preened and shimmering in the candlelight. His hair is pure white tonight; Keith has watched his hair turn from black to white, changing a little more each night, and he hates to think he’ll miss what colour it is tomorrow when the caravan leaves, taking this beautiful birdman with it.
Shiro moves on the swing, using the sensual gyration of his hips to propel himself forwards and backwards. He’s already lost his red corseted top, leaving sparkling red pasties on his nipples. His bottom half is strapped into tight, bulging underwear and a yellow garter belt that clips into orange knee-highs.
He has one hand, the gloved hand, on the chain of the swing, while the other trails, teasing, down his washboard abs. He reaches those tight little panties and gives himself a squeeze. He hums to himself at the feeling, and Keith can hear muffled responses around him.
Keith’s only just had a peek and he’s already starting to fill his pants, his breath coming short as his eyes take in Shiro’s perfection.
Shiro moves on the swing, turning and linking his knee around the chain so he can lean back. His muscles clench in an impressive display as he works to keep himself steady. He makes it look so easy.
He rocks his hips forward, grinding himself against the chain before pulling back and doing it again. One hand reaches behind him to grip the other chain and for a brief moment Shiro runs his hand up and down along the chain, working it like a cock.
Yup. That’s Keith’s cue to unbutton his dirty trousers and pull himself out, because the sight of Shiro’s strong hands wrapped around anything is enough to send Keith to heaven and back. He works himself slowly, because he knows there’s lots left to this show, and he wants to savour every moment of it.
Shiro gyrates and teases on his swing, moving this way and that so everyone gets a good look in their little rooms. He makes a point to look in each slot as he moves, making the onlookers feel seen and dirty and excited. But more than that, Keith secretly thinks Shiro likes it just as much. He thinks Shiro needs to feel watched and wanted. He’s only ever seen the beautiful creature through this little 4-inch gap in the curtain, but still he feels as if he knows at least that much.
He wants to know more – so much more, but he’s resigned himself to just this one last time. One last time and then a lifetime without beauty.
Shiro turns again with an exaggerated swing of his hips and looks Keith dead in the eye. It steals Keith’s breath, and he has to squeeze himself to keep from coming on the spot.
Something like recognition flashes across Shiro’s face then and he smiles. He flares his wings out then, letting the burning, golden feathers twinkle in the candlelight in a beautiful display. His smile turns into a saucy grin and he winks Keith’s way before licking his thumb and dropping his hand to tweak at his nipples.
Keith swallows a needy moan, his own hand following suit and tweaking himself through his shirt.
Shiro takes a smooth step down from his swing and turns around. He stretches his wings out again, his feathers twittering and dancing in the light. He slowly bends, giving Keith a perfect view of his pert little ass wrapped tight in his panties. He lifts a leg to his swing and unhooks his garter belt. He pulls the belt down in slow movements timed with the music and the swing of his hips, then tosses it away.
Then Shiro sits on his swing. It only takes a few powerful strokes of his wings and his body to get the swing going. He twists it around, clearly enjoying himself as much as everyone else is enjoying the display. His wings look ethereal in the candlelight, the colours glowing almost like flames as he swings.
Shiro leans back on his swing and crosses his legs, moving them to draw everyone’s attention. He touches his stockings, running his gloved hand up and down his leg.
He starts to pull the stocking away, and as he does so he lifts his leg straight up, high over his head. He does it casual, like it’s nothing for him to contort his body like that. Like it would be nothing for any one of them to put his knees behind his head and fuck him till morning.
He folds himself down to take the other stocking off and then kicks it off into the distance.
The swing slows and Shiro jumps off again, preferring to dance and grind himself along the floor. He does things with his wings that Keith has never seen before. They flutter around, they hide Shiro’s body, giving the audience little teasing peaks as Shiro’s pasties go flying. They shimmer and shake like they’re trying to catch his attention.
It feels like it is directed at Keith himself. He’s been to enough shows to know that Shiro usually focuses on everyone, spinning the entire room so everyone gets a good show, but tonight he seems focused on Keith’s half of the room. And more than once Keith’s found his gaze locked with Shiro’s penetrating grey eyes and unable to look away until Shiro does.
It makes Keith feel special – like he’s not imagining a connection to the beautiful bird. Like he’s not alone in this obsession.
Then the moment they’ve all been waiting for. Shiro’s thumbs begin to pull at his panties, revealing teasing little glimpses of his thick cock, before he swings his hips out of view. He bends over and pulls the red silk down just enough to show a hint of his round cheek and then he stands up. He does this several times, building the anticipation.
When he finally slides his panties down, Shiro uses his wings to frame the perfect curve of his ass as he reveals inch after inch. He steps out of the panties and shakes his ass, letting that perfect combination of fat and muscle ripple through the air.
Keith moves closer to the curtain, his breath steaming up the fabric, to get a better look. Shiro’s ass looks so perfectly biteable. It would fit so perfectly between his teeth, with just the perfect squish.
Fuck, Keith is drooling!
He wipes his mouth and uses it to ease the slow glide of his fist over his hard cock, his eyes still focused on Shiro’s ass.
It’s still framed in red and gold from Shiro’s wings, and Shiro moves his hips seductively. Then he drops down to his knees and he crawls across the floor, grinding his hips against nothing, moving like he’s taking it from behind.
Keith bites his lips to keep from moaning too loud at the thought. Shiro would take him so well. And he’d look so good doing it. Look at him!
Just to prove Keith’s point, Shiro reaches back with his gloveless hand and rubs at his hole. He circles himself and then pushes one finger in nice and slow. He works his hips, riding his finger a few times before he pulls away and flips onto his back.
Shiro’s cock is huge and heavy. His eyes dart back to Keith’s as he wraps a hand around himself and gives himself a quick pull.
Shiro makes a show of rolling his eyes back and tilting his head. He moans over the music and runs a thumb over his tip before letting himself go again.
He spreads his legs and lets his hands roam his body, scratching down his neck and pulling at his nipples. The colours of his wings deepen and come alive.
Keith already feels ready to burst, but Shiro’s just getting started. He teases himself nice and slow, alternately jerking himself and stretching himself open. Sometimes he stops everything and just lets his hard cock stand out in the open air, pulsing and desperate for something warm to fuck into.
Keith would be happy to oblige in that endeavour as well. He’s more than willing to offer his ass up for Shiro’s amusement, if given the chance.
Finally, Shiro starts to really get to work. He spreads his legs in front of Keith and starts to fuck his fist, slow and steady. He fits two fingers inside himself and moves his hands together. He writhes on the floor, his wings stretching and sometimes pounding against the cage floor as he clearly starts to lose himself in it.
This is what Keith really comes for. This part right here.
The lead up is good – better than good – but this part is perfect. Keith loves watching the red flush work its way down Shiro’s chest, and the ragged way he breathes as he starts to give it to himself good. He loves the look of pleasure on Shiro’s face, slack-jawed and wanton. He loves the sight of the gorgeous birdman losing himself.
Keith starts to time his thrusts with Shiro’s, careful not to hold himself too tight and end too quickly.
Though Shiro struggles to keep his eyes open, he repeatedly looks Keith’s way, giving Keith a dopey smile before his eyes roll back once more. Keith can tell as Shiro starts to get close. His hands start to work faster, and his noises grow louder and throatier.
This time, something new happens. Shiro lifts himself up on his wings, and they shimmer in the light. Shimmer and almost smoke.
At first Keith doesn’t trust what he’s seeing, but after a moment he is sure he’s seen a thin trail of smoke from Shiro’s wing.
Shiro moans, loud and breathy, like he’s feeling better than ever. His hands speed up again, while his wings start to catch fire.
They simmer and smoulder, and then alight with flames. Still Shiro just moans and fists himself. He sets his heels into the cage floor and works his hips to fuck into his hands.
Keith can’t take his eyes off it. It’s so hot.
Shiro is literally burning with desire in front of him.
He grows hotter and hotter until the flames are crackling, and Keith can feel the heat against his skin. Shiro is sweating – Keith is sweating too – and he nearly shouts as he squeezes himself tighter and fucks himself hard.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes…” Shiro chants.
Keith spills into his hand just as Shiro comes with a cry, shooting white onto the floor.
The flames engulf him then. He burns in a flash so bright that Keith has to look away and he hears others cry out in surprise.
It’s over in a second, and then Shiro is lying on the floor, panting, in a pile of his own ash. His hair is dark black, and his wings don’t shimmer the way they did moments ago. He sits up and smiles around the room, and he looks younger than he did. So, this is what they meant on that first night when they called it a phoenix show.
A small cheer goes around when Shiro stands up and shows that he’s ok.
Then there’s the usual sounds of people cleaning up and the slow trickle out of the tent as people avoid eye contact with each other. Keith waits behind, still watching Shiro as he wanders through the cage, gathering up his clothes.
That done, Shiro moves to the far side, where the door to his cage opens at his touch. Just before he leaves, though, Shiro turns and looks back to Keith one last time, like he knows Keith’s still there. He gives Keith a small wave, then tucks his wings neatly behind him and exits the cage to his own rooms.
Keith takes his time to catch his breath and relive those final moments of bliss before he leaves. He sits there for several minutes before he finally has to strength to leave it all behind. It’s bittersweet – Shiro’s just given him the best show of his life, at the end of the best week of his life, but still Keith wants more. Like any junkie, that last hit was not enough. He needs more. He can feel the need for Shiro pumping through his veins.
Keith sighs heavily and trudges very slowly back to reality.
The show is over when he gets back to the main tent, and the back room is well lit as Pidge and Hunk, the strongman, sit at their vanities, preening themselves after the show. Keith hangs his head and moves quickly to the exit.
He ducks through the tent flap into the main tent and abruptly stops in his tracks, arm still raised holding the flap above his head.
Shiro is standing RIGHT in front of him. His wings are still folded neatly at his side and he’s wearing a grey silk robe. He looks relaxed, and handsome in an entirely different way.
Shiro turns and looks at Keith and he stops too, and just looks at Keith. When Keith finally remembers how to breathe his breath slams into him with an audible gasp.
It takes him several more seconds to realize that Coran is standing beside Shiro, and what’s worse, he’s speaking to Keith.
“… looking for.” Coran has a bright smile and an expectant look on his face. Like he’s said something that Keith should respond to.
“Uhh… what?” Keith has never sounded so dumb in his life, but he can’t help it. His brain is no longer functioning.
Coran seems to understand, or at least he doesn’t mind repeating himself. “I said you’re just the man we’re looking for.”
“Fo… ah, me?” Keith sputters unintelligently. Shiro’s eyes haven’t wavered from Keith’s face, and Keith can feel himself heating under that sharp gaze.
“Yes. Shiro and I were just discussing hiring a helper for him–”
“I’ll do it.” Keith is known throughout the village for being someone who acts before he thinks, but never quite this fast. Nevertheless, he’s never wanted anything more than he does right now. He looks to Shiro and is immediately caught up in the man’s beauty once again. Shiro smiles, a happy little pleased smile, and Keith can’t help but return it, though it feels like an idiot’s grin on his face.
“You will, eh? Don’t you want to hear the offer first?” Coran sounds a little sly, but Keith doesn’t want to waste the energy looking at him. His eyes are locked on Shiro’s.
“I can help Shiro, yeah?”
Shiro nods.
“Then I’m in.”
Shiro smiles and steps forward, offering his gloved hand to shake. Instinctively, Keith reaches out with his own, forgetting that he’s holding the tent flap above his head. It thumps down on his head, startling him.
Keith jumps forward in surprise and rubs at his head. He must be beet red now from embarrassment. Coran laughs at him, but Shiro steps even closer and hovers his hands on either side of Keith’s head.
“Are you ok?”
Oh fuck!
Shiro’s voice is good! Like, real good. It’s deep and smooth like velvet in Keith’s ears. Bet he sings like an angel too.
“‘M fine.” But Keith doesn’t pull away when Shiro’s hand replaces his own on his head. He leans into the touch.
He risks a look up at Shiro, and this close Shiro looks absolutely stunning. His grey eyes are full of emotion – concern for Keith, and something softer that Keith is too hesitant to name. He’s not much taller than Keith, only an inch or two, but Keith has a feeling that Shiro will grow before he burns up again.
“Riiight,” Coran says with a polite cough, interrupting their moment.
Shiro turns to Coran and Keith follows suit. Shiro keeps his hand on Keith’s head, it’s a heavy, warm presence and it’s very nice, especially when he moves his fingers to card through Keith’s hair.
“Now the terms are…” Coran interrupts himself with a small sigh, “Shiro, can you move your hand? I need him to listen.” Shiro’s hand slides off Keith’s head, and just like that Keith is aware of his surroundings again.
“Thank you. Now, the terms are this: you’ll travel with us. We’ll give you room and board. Shows are 7 days a week, with travel time in between. You can have a day off the last Sunday of every month. Wages are a percentage of what we earn. You’ll listen to Shiro and do whatever he asks, but remember,” Coran leans in, pointing a finger in Keith’s face and squinting at him in a way that is presumably meant to be threatening, “I’m the real boss here. If I ask you to do something, you’d better hop to it, hmm?”
“Yessir.”
Coran eyes him for a long moment. “Ok. We pack up in the morning and will be out before noon. You have tonight to think it over and pack up your things.”
Something about the way he says that makes Keith shuffle closer to Shiro. “I don’t need to think about it. I’ll be here.”
“Hmm…. Yes. Well, I can’t say I haven’t made an impulsive decision over a pretty face in my day, too. I guess I’ll go spread the word we’ve got a new addition.” Coran slides past Keith and steps through the tent flap.
He’s only gone a moment, just long enough for Keith and Shiro to turn to each other and feel the full extent of an awkward moment in which neither knows what to say, before Coran pops his head back in. “Oh, by the by, what’s your name, there, Violet Eyes?”
“Violet..? Uh, Keith. My name’s Keith.”
Coran nods and says something else, but Keith doesn’t hear it. All he hears is a quiet “Keith” beside him in Shiro’s sweet voice.
“Yes?” Somehow, his hands end up in Shiro’s. Keith can feel his world pivot on its axis, reorienting itself around Shiro as he looks up into those deep, grey eyes.
“I wanted to know your name; I only knew you as Violet Eyes.” Shiro’s eyes crinkle when he smiles and it’s breathtaking. “I saw you watching me, and your eyes were so beautiful… I wanted to meet you. I was worried you weren’t coming tonight…”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” Keith isn’t sure he’s ever said anything so honest in his life. He squeezes Shiro’s hands in his own, dimly noting how the gloved hand doesn’t squeeze the same as the other. “I had to finish a job. I’m sorry I was late.”
Shiro smiles at him like it no longer matters and Keith can feel his heart pool to the floor.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Keith knows this is crazy. He knows they don’t know each other. They’ve just met – watching Shiro’s performances for a week does not count as meeting. But he’s already deeply in love, and he can’t help it. He certainly can’t deny it, the feeling is too strong to be ignored.
Looking into Shiro’s eyes, he knows Shiro feels the same.
They stand together for a long time, conversing through their eyes and through the touch of their hands. Eventually, Shiro lifts his wings and spreads them until they encompass them both, cocooning them away from the rest of the world.
Keith lifts their hands to hold them between their hearts and steps closer, losing himself in the small universe Shiro’s made for them. They tilt into each other by degrees, still sharing their silent communication, until finally Keith’s lips brush against Shiro’s.
They share a sigh, like they’ve finally come home after a long journey.
And it has been a long journey, Keith thinks. 24 years of life without Shiro is the longest journey he’s ever taken.
Their second kiss is deeper. It steals Keith’s lungs of breath and robs his mind of thought. When it breaks, he finds himself clinging tight around Shiro’s neck, with Shiro’s arms holding him firmly around the waist.
“I don’t want to let go,” Keith whispers into Shiro’s cheek.
“Me neither.”
“Are you two still here?” Coran asks loudly, startling them both.
Shiro lowers his wings and folds them up behind his back.
“Go on. Shoo.” Coran waves his hands at them, “Go do this somewhere else.”
He shoos them out into the night.
Unwilling to separate, Shiro follows Keith down the hill, walking hand in hand to Keith’s house at the edge of town. They pack all of Keith’s few possessions into two bags and leave a note for his landlord to do as he likes with what remains.
Keith sleeps in Shiro’s wagon that night, with Shiro curled up on his chest, using him as a pillow. He awakes to the sight of fluttering wings, crinkled grey eyes, and dimples so adorable Keith doesn’t know what to do with himself.
They manage to keep their hands off each other long enough for everything to get packed up (though the majority of the work is done by Hunk who easily lifts the water tank over his head while both merman and naga lay curled around each other at the bottom of the tank). Once they’re on the road, however, they suddenly find themselves with hours to kill. The unicorns that pull their wagon follow the others in the convoy without supervision, so Shiro pulls Keith into the back and lays him down on the bed. There they get to know each other’s bodies and minds; though their hearts are already well acquainted.
And then they live happily ever after.