Chapter Text
Being the fifth’s assistant was by far the easiest job a fool could have in the circus. All you had to do was have the visitors sign the informed consent and escort them to the Doctor's examination room. More often than not you would tend to any visitor who fainted. Occasionally he would request your assistance in disinfecting the exam room in between patients. Though your primary job was to dispose of his failed experiments. Compared to the fate of the other fools, this was a luxury.
Never in your wildest dreams did you fathom that some handsome face in a blue coat with a pink circus ticket would change your life- yet here you are.
Doctor could have easily turned you into one of those mindless dolls, a thought that he often openly entertains with that sadistic amusement you've come to find familiar from him. Why he chose to spare you was still beyond your comprehension, but you were never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially when asking too many questions could easily end in certain death.
“How peculiar… I find this one intriguing. Leave them to me.”
Those simple words had saved you from being a mindless puppet. Those simple words allowed you the chance to see the sun one day more.
The days went by in a blur after that. You quickly learned that these were no humans in clown costumes, but something more. That is not to say they had no humanity, in fact you found that they were far more reasonable than any man you've met before. You truly enjoy the company of the masked performers, and though it’s taken some time to see it, you’ve come to know that they enjoy your presence as well- to some extent. Jester and Ticket Taker tolerate you, which is high praise considering their dislike of humans. Pierrot simply observed you from afar, but you've come to see that was how he is with everyone. Indifference is better than the hate you've heard in stories about him. Harlequin could almost be considered a friend. His smile never felt too forced in your proximity. He called you by your actual name a few times as well, though he preferred his pet names. You'd spoken to each other a few times, given his tendency to frequent the Doctor's tent for help with various injuries from his near-constant fights with Pierrot.
However, only one of the circus members truly enjoyed your company. You were obedient and asked just the right questions at just the right times, and the Doctor was always eager to reward such behavior. He taught you new feats in the medical world you never thought possible. Guided you through assisting with his examinations and even let you observe him while he crafted the various drugs he used to keep the other fools in check. You wondered occasionally if he ever used those drugs on you. Once, you had asked him that very same question and his answer came all too quick.
“You haven't given me a reason to. Though if I did, you wouldn't be able to tell. Huhuhum~”
You believe him. You were far more lucid than any of your pink-clad counterparts. The drugs were meant to pacify the fools, to keep them from talking outside of their script, to keep them bound to the circus. Though the thought of him using such sly tactics to keep you around did send a thrill up your spine. Not that you had any intention of leaving, but the thought of seeing the Doctor’s reaction was intriguing.
With the past few months you've lived here, you've grown attached to your Doctor. You couldn't place an exact date on when you noticed the warmth that bloomed beneath your skin when he looked at you with masked approval; or the rush you got when he praised your steady hand. Not to mention the way your knees locked up when you got to witness him removing his outer cloak. These feelings… they confused you at first. You respected the doctor, he took you in, taught you new things and cared for you in his own peculiar way.
Yet…
And yet…
It wasn't enough.
You wanted more than just praise, a pat on the head, or a candy. For months you've watched his hands perform delicate procedures and draw such beautiful colors from his visitors. Those hands that plague your nightly fantasies have only ever caressed you clinically. Their cool touch prodding at your pulse, at your neck, your wrist, he’s even touched your chest before- though that was only due to his worry over your racing heart. The weight of those hands when they patted you on top of the head for doing a job well done.
Such simple, innocent, clinical touches…
It was maddening.
You knew he felt some kind of way towards you. Although not on the same level as your own feelings, he was open with his affections. He loved how eager you were to spread yourself on his exam table or strap yourself into his chair. He adored having such a willing patient on hand whenever he wanted to try a new technique, and you greedily accepted any and all chances to be the object of his sole attention for however long the appointment lasted. It was a harmonious arrangement, one you were both satisfied with.
That didn't stop you from wanting more.
Another benefit of being the doctor assistant was that he allowed you to sleep inside his tent. You had your own private suit in the farthest corner. It was hardly more than a broom closet, but it was perfect. It offered a decent amount of privacy and it was discreet enough to keep troublesome visitors away.
The best part is that it wasn't located too far from the doctors personal sleeping quarters.
He didn't sleep much, none of the performers at the circus did. A part of their inhuman nature that you envied at times. Despite this, he always kept a bed in the tent whenever the urge for rest became too great to resist. You never stepped foot into his room, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't curious. A few times you’ve wandered close, but the fear of getting caught kept you away.
He never gave you strict instructions to stay away, but your curiosity was not worth the potential punishment. The feeling of the soulless “dolls” hanging in the entry way of his tent was more than enough of a warning than any threat he could make.
Besides, you had much better plans for tonight than to explore.
The performers of the circus were all in a meeting. One of those weekly division of tasks and performance review things you were never invited to but heard all about regardless. They typically lasted for hours, which granted you the most privacy one could ask for.
Your bed wasn't particularly soft or comfortable, but you made it work. The lights in the cyan tent were all shut off, leaving only the faint gl;ow of the ever present streetlights visible through the thin canvas of its walls, illuminating you in its azure glow. You took great care in removing your uniform and folding it neatly onto your desk. The coolness of your sleepwear wrapped around you, eliciting a soft hum from your lips.
Cold, comforting, eerily similar to the touch of someone you ached for.
Tonight, that ache was too deep to ignore.
You lay on your bed, your face flushing as you tentatively part your legs. No one was out this late. All the other fools were sleeping in the pink tent and the others all were attending their meeting- yet you couldn't help but keep your senses on high alert.
This was far from the first time you've touched yourself, and you know it will certainly not be the last.
He had given you plenty of material to work with today to fuel your deranged desires. Your soft fingertips graze gently over your throat before pressing in against the pulse point under your jaw. You count the thumps as you know he would, the thought of how he might detect your elevated heart race sending a wave of warmth through your core.
What would he say if he found you in such an aroused state?
“Look at you… All I've done is take your pulse and you're already squirming…”
You shiver as your hand travels down to your chest. Would he touch you here? Would his thumb brush over your sensitive nipples? Would he squeeze the tender flesh in his claws?
Your back arches as you move lower, your eyes fluttering shut as fantasy overcrowds the rational part of your mind. You could picture that it was his hand instead of yours. You could imagine the way his cool breath could dance across your heated skin.
You imagine the way he would rub the gloved tip of his claw against your clit, dancing around the sensitive bud in deliciously tantalizing rhythms. He would circle it over and over before brushing against it almost by accident, but you knew that he would have done it on purpose. You could feel the warm slick coating your thighs, and you knew he would feel it too. It would be so natural when he dipped his fingers down to gather your cum and make you taste it.
The flavor of your salty sweetness on the bitter chemical taste of his latex gloves would be addicting. You put your own fingers into your mouth, moaning as you could imagine you were sucking his digits. You could almost hear the sharp inhale of his breath, his voice sounding almost too real in your mind's eyes.
“Sweetie…”
You pull off of your fingers with a wet pop, trailing them down your navel back to the apex of your thighs. His fingers were massive, everything about him was so much bigger than you were. You slide in two fingers to accommodate the feeling of just one of his as you penetrate yourself.
You groan as you feel the burn of the stretch give way to pleasure. You pump your fingers in and out as your head rolls to the side.
He would take that as an invitation. You had caught a glimpse of his mouth when he lifted his mask before. You knew his teeth were wickedly sharp and oh-so tempting. You could imagine the feel of those fangs grazing against your throat, dragging their razor sharp peaks across the skin, scratching and claiming you for all to see.
You bite your lip as your hand speeds up.
Would he lick the wound he left? You could almost feel the way his cool tongue would reach out and glide across your skin, leaving behind a wake of goosebumps. You clench around yourself, back arching as you imagine his finger curling inside you. A come-hither motion he made towards you so often- Fuck.
“Doctor…”
His name falls from your lips like matches to a flame, igniting the blazing hot desire already coursing through your body. Your free hand reaches down to your clit, imaging it was him once again.
“Doctor, please…”
“My tasty little patient, you're doing so well for me~ Such a good girl, now why don't you show me how much you want this?”
Your back arches completely off the bed as the mere thought of praise from your Doctor sends you tumbling over the edge into bliss. You turn your head, biting into your pillow to muffle your depraved cry of pleasure as you ride your fingers.
You feel yourself getting lost in post-orgasmic bliss. The warmth of your afterglow lingers far after your touch pulls from your core, leaving your breathless and panting alone in your room.
After a few moments to allow yourself to come down from the rush, you sit up and blearily note the room around you. Once you gather your thoughts, you return your night clothes to their proper position and head off towards the rest rooms, where a welcoming sink beacons you to begin your nighttime routine.
You don't feel the crimson gaze watching you as you leave your room, nor do you smell the rather potent aroma of incense that had gotten stronger in your room just a few moments ago.
Your idle humming blocks out the sound of a cape fluttering as a tall figure retreats into the darkness.
After all, you were certain the meeting hadn't ended yet. What would the odds of that be?
As you return to your bed and fall into a blissful deep sleep, you don't feel the gentle touch of a hand to your wrist, nor do you hear the fascinated hum of the doctor above you.
“Interesting. Very interesting rest well, my dear patient~”
He leaves your room, body vibrating with excitement.
It seemed he had a new area of research to pursue~