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Oh boy, you shouldn’t have followed Harlequin to his tent this morning…
Now you have to deal with a very hurt Pierrot.
“Please, my lord. I just want to cover his mark with mine!” he says. You can barely see his eyes, but easily can tell how much frustration he's carrying in there.
You are in complete silence hearing his pleas, unsure about what you should say or do now. You didn’t want to feel the pain of another bite. What if his teeth were as sharp as Harlequin's? That hurt like hell!
But on top of that, there's something else that's been bothering you about the dynamic between these two…
“It looks like this is something important for you, but…” you sighed, looking for the best words you could find to not make him even more frustrated. “I don't know, Pierrot. It looks like you're trying to ‘claim' me, like him… I'm not a thing you can own.”
“O-Of course not, my lord! I just want to… Take him off your head. I want to be the one you remember when you feel that warmth on your neck. I want to be the only thing your mind will reach for and cling to. I want to…”
“Do you ever think about what I want?” the words left your mouth before you could stop them.
You didn't want to sound so annoyed, but you were already getting fed up with the rivalry between the two of them. You felt like they were acting like two kids arguing over a toy.
Pierrot turned away from your face, visibly deeply hurt. His eyes darted involuntarily, searching in his memory for what he might have done to make you think that. That wasn’t what he wanted; he never wanted to upset you, never wanted to give the impression that he didn’t care about your wishes. Your irritated eyes were one of the most painful things Pierrot ever had the misfortune to see in his life.
He turned his attention back to your face when he heard a long sigh, and the tightness in the poor clown’s heart eased a little when he saw your gaze grow a bit sweeter and more composed.
“If I wanted to bite you, would you let me?”
You weren't exactly sure what you were expecting in response to that question. Maybe a sheepish look, maybe for him to mutter an uncomfortable "no...", maybe for him to see the absurdity of what he was asking. But of course, all that you got was his eyes lighting up and an enthusiastic nod.
“Of course I will!” You could almost see his pupils turning heart-shaped with all the love in those eyes looking at you, as if you were an angel who had just offered him salvation for his very soul. “Do you want to?”
“... Not what I was expecting,” you blinked a few times, staring at him as a little giggle escaped your lips.
“My lord, I'll do anything you want, and let you do anything you want to me!”
Pierrot adjusted his body over yours, giving you a better view of his still-covered neck.
“If you don't want me to claim you as mine… You can claim me as yours.” He used the tips of the claws on his glove to pull his collar down, making room for you, but still being careful not to reveal too much of his own skin.
You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, but a small smile played on your lips. Of course he would want something like that.
And something weird inside your chest now wanted it, too.
You opened your eyes to look into those bright yellow irises. You didn’t answer him with words; just leaned in and nestled your face against the curve of his neck.
Pierrot shuddered as he felt your breath on him. His skin is so white, that you thought it was makeup, even though you couldn't smell any product at all, even from that close. You planted a gentle kiss just to check, before possibly biting into skin covered in ink. Strange—it didn't look like there was any makeup there…
Okay. He walks around all day in his costume and never takes it off, right? Maybe he was just so severely sun-deprived that his skin was that incredibly pale…
A series of excited gasps snapped you out of your thoughts before you could overthink it. You decided not to keep him waiting too long, and began nibbling on that skin to test its firmness. To your surprise, his skin seemed to be extremely firm, almost as much as the skin of a large animal.
It's getting hard to not overthink things.
You shook your head slightly to push those thoughts aside, and focused on gradually increasing the pressure of your teeth.
A long, guttural growl rose from Pierrot’s chest as he felt the force of the bite growing. Your teeth are so small, so human, they almost tickled him—such a weak bite wouldn’t work. Pierrot pressed his body harder against yours, his neck deeper into your mouth, trying to help your teeth to sink in.
“M-My lord…” Pierrot groaned as he brought his free hand to your shoulder for better support. From his muffled voice, you could tell he was biting his lip beneath the mask. You took a deep breath through your nose and focused your strength on your upper canines—maybe it would be more effective to use your sharper teeth?
The metallic taste that began to spread in your mouth made you think that maybe it had worked.
You opened your mouth and pulled your face away from his neck, wanting to see if your “work” had actually turned out well. Okay, maybe Pierrot had just awakened something in you, because you were starting to enjoy this situation a little too much.
You saw a single trail of blood, made with a big effort from one of your canines, but you still couldn’t leave marks of your teeth on him.
"Your skin is too strong..." You murmured breathlessly, taking a moment to regain your normal breathing. You ran your finger across his pale neck to wipe away the thin crimson line, while using your tongue to wipe the blood from your own lips.
“Please, my lord, keep going…” Pierrot seemed mesmerized by the sight of his own blood staining your lips and teeth. His hand firmly holds the back of your head to encourage you to bite him again.
You giggled a little with his pleas, but now there’s something else catching your attention; you noticed that Pierrot was slightly bucking his hips against yours.
He probably noticed that you’d realized it, because he stopped moving right away. You could see in his eyes how much he wanted to keep going, but he didn’t want to do it until you said he could.
Your hands slid down Pierrot’s back, past his waist, and rested on his thighs. He shuddered and almost lost himself in your touch, but it didn’t take him long to realize what you wanted. Pierrot spread his legs so he could sit properly on your lap, letting his weight settle a little carelessly on your pelvis. And he was just as heavy as he looked.
You felt a very noticeable bulge when he leaned over your body; he let out a loud moan when his cock pressed against you, loving the sensation to touch you like this even through your clothes.
“My lord, please– I want your marks on my body, please…” he said between gasps, and now his both hands were on your shoulders.
“I can try,” you let a low, mischievous chuckle escape as you spoke, leaning in toward his pale neck again.
Your palms resting on Pierrot's thighs pulled them slightly upward, encouraging him to continue the movement. He obeyed immediately; the clown's hips began to move over your body, at a slow pace at first, though he couldn't hold back for long.
After a slow, deep breath, you closed your mouth around his firm skin again, applying all your strength in one go this time. Pierrot let out a long whimper, and the speed of his hips increased.
You groaned against his neck and clenched your hands in mild frustration over that strong skin. Your fingers dug firmly into his thighs, matching the force of your jaw. The clown groaned loudly at the roughness of your teeth and hands. He was so, so happy to have you using his body however you pleased, it felt like a dream to him.
“Yes, my dear… It feels so good, keep going, please…” He lowered his head, just to whine right into your ear. Oh, he knows exactly what he's doing.
Pierrot was clearly having the time of his life, while you're still going through a pretty hard time trying to "stamp" that skin. You opened your mouth slightly, then snapped it shut again; then you tried again, and again. At some point, you were literally chewing on Pierrot’s neck, and he was loving it.
“Hah, I-It's so… keep going, please. Ngh- my lord… My lord!” a loud, uncontrollable moan escaped his lips—the most beautiful melody you've ever heard in your life.
Pierrot's hips stopped suddenly, and his cock pressed against your lower abdomen harder than ever. His fingers—his claws—sank forcefully into your shoulders as he let out an almost animalistic groan. His legs were shaking so badly that you were sure he wouldn’t be able to get up from there even if he wanted to.
You opened your mouth one last time to release his skin. His large body shuddered when you gently licked the wound you had left behind, as a form of caress.
The clown remained motionless in that position for several seconds, recovering from the overwhelming sensation with long sighs and whimpers in your ear. When he had recovered a little, Pierrot mustered the courage to lift his head and look at your face.
“Did you cum?” you asked with a smirk.
“I-Im sorry, my lord. It's just…-” he looked away from you, even though he didn't seem to actually be embarrassed.
“That's alright,” you let out a little chuckle and guided one of your hands to his face, caressing him through the white mask.
You used your hand to turn his face slightly so you could look at your "work" again.
You can see a bruise caused by your canine tooth, and some slightly reddish marks left by your other teeth. It's not what you expected, but it's something.
“It's perfect…” Pierrot’s fingers traced his new bruise tenderly, gazing down at you with such devotion, such tenderness, that it was as if his eyes were thanking you for it.
He bent down to nestle against your body, finding a place for his face on your neck. He took a deep breath and lost himself in your scent, feeling more than complete.
And… Pierrot completely forgot that he was supposed to be preparing for his next performance.