!!!-CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS-!!! Real Person Prompt Post // September 1st - September 15th
This is a post for any REAL PERSON PROMPTS. All prompts with pairings of people under the age of 18 should be posted to the underage section. Mentions of real life people under the age of 18 is not allowed.
A few reminders:
1. Use your subject lines! Please start with either REQUEST or FILLED also please list the pairing and kinks2. Please come up ( Read more... )
A few reminders:
1. Use your subject lines! Please start with either REQUEST or FILLED also please list the pairing and kinks2. Please come up ( Read more... )
Jensen's just itching to leave until they enter a room where the freak on display is a winged man, and in stark contrast to the other freaks who seem to at least be there of their own free will, he is beaten, bruised, and chained down to a table so the observers can pet or pull at his wings as they please. No one acknowledges the man as a living, feeling person - they just poke and prod with no regard - and it breaks Jensen's heart.
Jensen keeps coming back over the next few days to sneak the man food and try to get him to talk. On the last day the circus is in town, Jensen sneaks the man out of his cage and into his home. He's not sure how, but he knows he's going to take care of this man, whatever it takes.
Jared is still skittish and expects to be beaten - even his nicest keepers beat him when he spoke or broke things by flaring out his wings without permission. Jared thinks that he'd stay with Jensen anyway even if the man started beating him every day, since nothing and no one has ever felt so much like home to him.
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I'm wondering if it's okay if Jared has a nickname in the circus, and Jensen knows him only as that for a little while (until Jared trusts him enough to tell him his name or something).
Also, are you okay with NC-17 or would you prefer it stay PG-13/R-ish?
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“Jensen!” Jensen turned and saw Gary waving him over from a cab. “Get in, we’re gonna be late!”
Jensen rolled his eyes - whose fault was that? - but got in the car.
“So. Where are we going?” Jensen asked, trying to sound excited.
“I can’t tell you that, it’s a surprise!” Gary somehow made a simple sentence sound sleazy. Maybe it was the wink.
It certainly was a surprise. The cab wound its way to the edge of the city, into a packed parking lot, to the front of an outdoor venue with flashing lights proclaiming: “One Week Only! The Colt Circus! One Week Only!”
“Circus?” Jensen asked, raising one eyebrow. At least it was original. Gary just grinned. Jensen tried not to shudder.
They bought tickets (Jensen insisted on buying his own; no need to give the guy any more ideas than he clearly already had) and entered through a strangely narrow and dark hallway that opened into a large, open area. This wasn’t really like any circus Jensen had ever seen before (granted, he hadn’t seen many). Rather than having one stage encircled by the audience, this circus consisted of a series of cages and stages arranged in a circle, the center of which was filled with people milling around, cotton candy and popcorn in hand. Gary excitedly tugged Jensen toward one of the cages, which Jensen was somewhat horrified to see contained an actual lion.
“Isn’t that illegal?” Jensen muttered, not thinking Gary could hear him.
“Probably,” Gary replied uncaringly. Great. The guy really had absolutely no redeeming qualities. Jensen let himself be pulled from cage to cage, vaguely trying not to let his boredom show. It appeared there were two kinds of exhibits: animals and people. The animals all looked miserable. The people, on the other hand, seemed to be naturally gifted performers. Unfortunately, their performances mostly involved lifting dubiously heavy weights and wearing facial hair not commonly seen on members of their gender. When it seemed they’d finally completed the circle, Jensen opened his mouth to suggest they leave.
“Look at this! A winged man!” Gary exclaimed, pointing to an arrow-shaped sign pointing to a tent slightly outside the main circle. Jensen sighed and followed Gary. One more sad, caged creature wasn’t going to kill him.
The tent was oddly stuffy inside, somehow too warm. Jensen was surprised to see that he and Gary were the only spectators there. A cage stood in the very center of the tent, and inside knelt a man. This man, unlike the people displayed in the exhibits outsider, was not performing. In fact, he didn’t appear to be doing anything. He was kneeling, stringy brown hair covering his eyes, wings crooked around his body, presumably to cover it. There was a large bruise along the ribs clearly visible in his back, and another spreading along his shoulder blade. As Jensen followed Gary in circling the cage, he saw the heavy shackles around the man’s ankles.
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“No-”
“Yeah! I bet it’s big, doesn’t it look big Jensen?” Gary interrupted Jensen’s No thank you and Jensen gritted his teeth and held his tongue.
The small man grinned, then picked up a knobby wooden cane and knocked against the cage.
“Stand up, Tweety. C’mon, the people wanna see you. Stand up! Don’t want me to use this, do you?” At that, the winged man started moving. He slowly, gingerly got to his feet, visibly wincing when his back straightened.
“I’m Sheppard, by the way. This one only listens to me,” the small man said with a malicious grin, before turning back to the cage.
“Wings too! Come on!” Sheppard’s voice was somehow simultaneously cajoling and threatening, and it set Jensen’s teeth on edge. Then the man straightened his wings. He had bruises in various stages of discoloration on his arms, legs, and torso. Several gashes marred his stomach and chest, which Jensen noted were perfectly sculpted. He wore a sort of loincloth, which Jensen gueesed was supposed to look angelic. Maybe it would have if it were clean. The winged man didn’t lift his eyes from the floor, but his wings stretched behind him, as much as they could in the limited space. Jensen could see many of the brown feathers were bent or crooked, and his fingers itched to smooth them down.
“Wanna touch them?” Sheppard asked Jensen, clearly having noticed him staring. He prodded the left wing with the cane. The wing flinched back. Jensen was about to insist that they leave, wanting no part in the torture of this poor stranger, when a group of middle aged men and women stumbled into the tent. He fell back as they oohed and aahed over the winged man, meaning to tell Gary he wanted to leave, when he realized Gary was right up against the cage along with the rest of them. They were all reaching in, trying to grab at the man’s wings. The man curled himself into a corner of the cage, covering himself with his wings and trying to make himself smaller. It would have been funny, this ridiculously tall man trying to seem small, if it weren’t so incredibly sad. Jensen wanted to say something, wanted to stop everyone from trying to pet the man like an animal, but couldn’t seem to find his voice.
Sheppard was unlocking the cage, and Jensen breathed a sigh of relief. Finally. The winged man (Jensen refused to think of him as Tweety) looked like he needed to get out of that cage. He looked like he hadn’t left it in days, in fact. Jensen felt sick as he realized that could very well be true. He felt even sicker when he saw that Sheppard had put down the cane in favor of another pair of shackles. Jensen looked away, though he couldn’t block out the clinking of heavy chains and the tittering and whispering of the spectators. His eyes fell on a small, tarnished plaque at the base of the cage. It read The Fallen Angel in flowing script, and under it, in plain capital letters, “LUCY”. Jensen glanced back up at the man. He certainly didn’t look like a “Lucy”, but then, what were the chances of that being his real name? Maybe the plaque was left over from a previous inhabitant.
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“C’mon. Let’s get out of here.” Jensen physically removed Gary from the group of people, dragging him out the door. He couldn’t stop himself from throwing one look back over his shoulder. There were at least twelve hands on Lucy’s wings, grabbing, rubbing, pulling, but Jensen couldn’t seem to wrench his gaze away from the man’s face. His hair still covered his eyes, and yet... And yet Jensen could swear the man was staring right at him.
“Thought you wanted to get out of here,” Gary whispered in Jensen’s ear, hot breath repulsing him almost as much as the way Gary pressed against him.
“Yeah,” Jensen said shortly, finally turning away. He was distracted for the duration of the cab ride, even letting Gary slide a hand along his thigh and murmur in his ear. Jensen couldn’t hear or feel a thing anyway; he was lost in thoughts of bruised and scraped skin, chained ankles, and wrecked wings. After firmly telling Gary that he could find his way from the cab to his apartment, he found himself under a scalding hot shower, forehead pressed to the tiles, one hand inching its way slowly down his stomach. This wasn’t exactly a novel way to end a bad date night, but Jensen froze when he realized the images in his head weren’t of his favorite underwear model, but of “Lucy” bent over a table, spread in front of him. Jensen fumbled with the tap, turning the water ice cold and dunking his head directly under it. Unpleasant, but effective.
By the time he went to bed, he was achingly hard again, despite trying to think of anything other than brown wings and that long, too lean body.
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When finished, please respond to this comment with a list of kinks, and I'll remove the WIP tag. Thanks!
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i mean there's facefucking somewhere in there i guess a little bit at one point, i don't know if that counts.
Thanks :D
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Oh, poor, sweet, winged Jared!
I enjoy your writing very much, I'm excited to see that the wonderful prompt is getting such a good fill!
Very much looking forward for more of this dramatic goodness!
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The circus looked smaller in the light of day. Dirtier, too. Jensen walked in as casually as he could, smiling at the woman who sold him his ticket, nodding at the man gathering trash from the night before. It was open, but there were only a few other people wandering around. Jensen found his way to Lucy’s tent easily enough, and loitered around the entrance, trying to discern if there was anyone inside. The only sound was a soft rustling, like dry leaves in the wind. Jensen ducked into the tent.
Lucy was kneeling again. His ankles were shackled, and this time, so were his wrists. There was a bowl in front of him, half full of water. Jensen approached slowly, first circling the cage to where Lucy could see him if he looked up.
“Hey,” Jensen said, as softly as he could. Lucy flinched with his entire body, chin curling further toward his chest, shoulders hunching, wings curling protectively around his body. Jensen knelt before the cage. He dug through his bag and brought out one of the sandwiches he’d brought, and slowly extended his arm through the cage bars. At first there was no response, but eventually Lucy’s wings unfurled from around his body, and his head tilted up fractionally. Jensen heard a small gasp when Lucy’s gaze must have landed on the food. A large dirty hand shot out, then stopped a foot away from the sandwich, and pulled back to drop in Lucy’s lap. Jensen’s heart ached a little.
“It’s okay. Take it, it’s for you,” Jensen whispered. Through the the curtain of brown hair between them, he swore he could almost make out a wide eyed stare. Jensen placed the sandwich as close as he could to Lucy and slowly backed away. This really was starting to feel like trying to interact with a wild animal, but Jensen had no trouble remembering that this was a person kneeling before him. Lucy finally took the sandwich with trembling hands, body visibly tensed as though awaiting a blow. Jensen held as still as he could and Lucy finally brought the food to his mouth. As soon as the sandwich touched his lips, he seemed to forget all about Jensen, and ate as though he hadn’t seen food in days. Jensen tried hard not to think that it might be true.
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