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“A sleepover?”
Caine blinked his mismatched eyes at the couple, taking a moment to process their request.
Breathing wasn’t strictly necessary in the Circus, but Kinger held his breath regardless as Queenie clarified: “Yes, but… every night? Kinger and I were hoping to spend some more intimate time together. Er, emotionally intimate! The type of closeness only a late-night conversation can achieve.”
Caine scratched the approximate area on his gums where a chin would be. “Hmm… well, I don’t think I could allow two circus members to share a room— your quarters are supposed to be private places, after all! And besides, I wouldn’t want to encourage any behavior that violates the circus’ guidelines.”
“Oh.” Kinger tried not to let the disappointment show in his tone, and likely failed. “That’s okay, we—“
“HOWEVER! Because you both asked so nicely, I’m sure there’s something I could create! Like… AH!”
Caine snapped his fingers, and suddenly Kinger and Queenie were pelted by a barrage of spawning pillows.
“What’s more wholesome and intimate than sharing a pillow fort?” Caine asked, “You can build it together, and then spend the night! Doesn’t that sound fun?”
Kinger and Queenie exchanged a glance. Queenie’s eyes shimmered with merriment at the idea— Kinger was still amazed at how she managed to smile without a mouth, and melt his heart a little each time. “That does sound fun, Caine. Thank you!”
“Aww, no need!” Caine flicked his wrist, clacking his teeth together with glee. “I’ll leave you to it!” And with a comical popping noise and small flash of light, the couple was alone.
“Well,” Queenie said, rotating to face Kinger. “Shall we build a fort?”
“How about a castle?” Kinger joked.
Queenie giggled. “Ah, fitting of royalty such as ourselves! It shall be the grandest structure in the kingdom!”
~
In the end, they couldn’t manage a castle. In fact, the pile of pillows they put together was barely the size of a typical tent. The pair was forced to huddle together to squeeze into the sorry structure.
And, in all honesty, Kinger didn’t mind one bit.
The couple sat stock-still for a while, simply enjoying their cosy little space. Silence has long since lost its awkward edge for the pair; in the hectic mess of a circus, it was worth its weight in gold. Kinger was content to simply stare into his love’s eyes for… well, for the foreseeable future.
It was only a slow movement in his peripheral vision that broke his gaze. Kinger watched as Queenie’s levitating hands floated up to his face, before gently tracing their way down his cheek. Kinger blinked at the pleasant sensation. “My love?”
“Mmm?” Queenie tilted her head slightly. “Sorry, I was just admiring the wooden pattern on your face… so very lifelike.” As if to emphasize her point, she countined to trace down the grain of the wood. “Does it feel alright?”
Kinger suppressed a shiver. “More than alright,” he murmured as Queenie’s hand slid over the bump of his neck. As it drifted closer to the trim of his robe, Kinger bit back a laugh. “Careful, my love— wouldn’t want to violate the circus’ guidelines.”
“That would be a shame,” Queenie purred. She began to stroke the spotted fur in a slow, rhythmic fashion. Her fingers eventually found the edge of the material, and she hesitated. “But then again…”
“…Can we do that? Here?”
“Not sure,” Queenie said evenly. “Only one way to find out?”
“W-well,” Kinger stammered, “I suppose, in the name of science, it’s only fair that we give it a shot, if you’d be amenable—“
“ Shhhhhh .” Queenie put her other hand on his face, lightly brushing where lips would be. Kinger stopped talking instantly.
Slowly, Queenie’s hands moved into Kinger’s robe, sliding down the smooth chess piece beneath. The sensation of soft fabric against his wood made Kinger shudder, and he briefly imagined the goosebumps that would have formed if they could.
Queenie continued to rub Kinger’s body, the tips of her gloved fingers digging into the minute grooves in his wooden form. All the while, her large brown eyes caught him in a velvet-soft gaze.
Kinger’s own hands floated upwards, almost of their own accord. “May I…?”
Queenie nodded, tilting herself forward. Kinger gently placed both hands on the side of her face, rubbing circles underneath her eyes with his thumbs. His fingers glided across her smooth wooden cheeks, creating a pleasant sensation. Kinger could tell from the way that Queenie’s eyes slowly drifted closed that she, too, enjoyed the feeling. Her own hands on his body slowed.
Spurred on, Kinger decided to move upward. He delicately traced around her eyes, running his fingers up the side of her face until he reached her crown. He rested his fingers in the grooves of her head, sliding them up and down the divoted surface.
Queenie leaned into the feeling, nestling his hands and pushing one upwards. Kinger found himself sliding his hands in a circle along the indented top of her crown. After a moment of adjustment, he continued to lazily spiral inwards. Eventually, he felt the sides of his fingers reach the glossy brown knob in the middle. Kinger circled it with one finger, speeding up slightly, before working his way up the sides and eventually grabbing the knob with his hand. There was a small part of him that marveled at how perfectly it fit into his palm.
Kinger thrummed his fingers against the knob gently, cherishing the quiet clack-clack-clack that accompanied his movement. Then, as he brought his other hand down to the base of Queenie’s head and tilted it slightly upwards, he gave the knob a slight squeeze.
Queenie gasped .
Kinger let go almost immediately. “Sorry, was that too–”
Queenie’s hand flew upwards to once again land on his mouth. This time, her whole palm splayed out across his face. “No, darling, you’re lovely,” she breathed. Then, “ Do that again. ”
Eager to comply, Kinger brought his hand back to the knob and held it firm, then squeezed and twisted as though he was using a doorknob.
Queenie whined, her body tilting even further forward– so far that she lost her balance, pushing herself on top of Kinger and sending them both careening into the side of the fort. Plush pillows embraced Kinger’s back, softening the fall.
Kinger was suddenly very aware of just how close Queenie’s face was to his own. He allowed his hands to drift down to the back of Queenie’s head, cupping her neck gently. “Eheh… hi.”
“Hi,” Queenie whispered back, a smile audible in her voice.
“So… you come here often?”
Queenie giggled, her own hands traveling to the back of his head. “First time, I must admit. And you?”
“Well, I…” Kinger trailed off as a thought occurred to him. “I… y’know, I can’t remember if I’ve ever done this before. Before the circus, I mean.”
Queenie looked confused for a moment, before the expression was washed away with mirth. “My goodness… you know, neither can I!”
“Heh… I’m lucky, then,” Kinger said, “That my first time is with the most perfect woman in the world.”
Queenie’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, shush ,” she said playfully, before leaning into a kiss.
Kinger was unsure of what to expect when they clicked together, Queenie tilting herself in such a way so that their eyes wouldn’t touch. The feeling of her wood came first– smooth, solid, and sure against his own. Though his gloved hands were able to feel the grain, the detail was doubled tenfold when it was against his body like this. Every fiber of wood, every perfect imperfection, was his to hold.
And then there was the taste. Kinger wasn’t quite sure how eating worked in the digital circus, considering his lack of mouth or other orfices– despite the odds, he could still feel and taste food in his mouth as though he had all the typical anatomy. So when the taste of pinewood began to tickle his proverbial tongue, he didn’t question it. Instead, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to melt into his Queen’s embrace. Before being lost in the haze completely, though, he moved his hands upward, towards the crown. Queenie rumbled with delight against him, letting out a muffled chorus of “ yes ” and “ harder ” and “ I love you ”, and Kinger lost himself to the bliss.
-
Breathing wasn’t strictly necessary in the circus, which was nice– it meant they never had to stop for air, after all. But Kinger swore he could feel his lungs burning when they finally separated.
Queenie, too, was breathless, if the sound of her voice indicated anything. “That was… something.”
“...Something good?” Kinger asked hopefully.
Queenie laughed softly. “Yes, yes. Something great.” Then, after a moment of thought, she spoke again: “You know, this couldn’t have been your first time, love.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You’re too good at it. Practically a professional.”
Kinger scooted into her side to hide the flustered look on his face. A gentle hand pressed at his hips, pulling him closer. “You really were great,” Queenie whispered into his ear. “Thank you.”
“And you were amazing,” Kinger said. “I meant what I said, you’re the most amazing woman to live. I’d spend eternity in this circus if it was with you.”
Queenie didn’t respond to that. Instead, she pulled Kinger closer.