A quick oneshot I wrote between chapters of Show me love.
I love this book, and this pairing.
DISCLAIMER: Lord of the Flies is owned by William Golding.
"Does that hurt?"
"..No."
"Good." He continued his actions, placing kisses here and there as he did so.
The night was particularly chilly in the forest, but they didn't feel it. They were too hot for each other. Their breathes mixed, hot, moist and steamy.
Their lips slid and stuck to each others, and the older boys fingers gently worked at the tight ring of muscle between the black-haired boys pale ass cheeks.
Moaning softly the boy rested his cheek against the cool rock underneath him, lifting his ass and rotating his hips to the exploring fingers.
When the Ginger haired boy felt the muscle slacken he spreads the boys legs a bit more, positioning himself between them and pushing his swollen, heavy cock against the pink entrance.
"You ready?"
"..Yes."
"Good." He pushed the tip in slowly, stopping when the boy whimpered and tensed. This wasn't their first time, but damn, he was so sensitive. Fragile.
He gripped the thin bony hips for leverage and continued pushing in, the heat swallowed him and he felt his sac twitch. The boy clawed lightly at the rock, arching his back and giving little mewls of pain and pleasure. All the way in, the Ginger gave a little thrust with a grunt and the boy ground his ass gently against the older's dick.
"Are you okay?"
"..Yes."
"Good." He began to thrust a bit harder, gaining rhythm and friction, eyes closed he concentrated on the pleasure this boy brought him. Digging his fingers into the boys skin in an almost violent manner, like he wanted to hurt him.
His thrusts getting more and more rough. The boy whimpered and mewled, used to the abuse, just wanting to please the Ginger. Pushing down hard, the Older ground into him, pushing the boys body tightly against the responded with a whimper, his hard-on wedged between the rock and himself, it was painful, but he knew the Older wouldn't care until later. He just moaned and arched and pushed back on him, taking his roughness.
The Ginger gave a low growl in his throat, breathing harshly on the boys shoulder blades, before giving them a nip that earned him a whine and a jerk of the boys body against him, sending waves of pleasure up his stomach.
"Am I hurting you?"
"..No."
He stayed silent, thrusting, he could feel the pressure building at his spin as reached his peak and came hard and deep into the boy with a grunt, pushing down so hard that it would definitely have hurt him. But the boy just moaned quietly at the warmth of the Ginger's seed.
Laying together panting, the Ginger held and stroked back the boys damp hair, placing a kiss on the sticky forehead.
"You were lying.."
A distant smile.
"I always do.."
"I know." the Ginger kissed him over and over, hoping to ease the pain, loving the pale raven-haired boy in his arms. The spent the night there, as they often did, the boy in the Olders arms, protecting, loving, hurting, scared, calm, together. And the boy would fall asleep curled in a vulnerable ball, and the Ginger would count his breathes and keep him safe and warm.
Jack sat upon his thrown of hate, relishing his moment of humanity, despite being behind the mask. He watched his kingdom, they buzzed around like the flies around a pigs head. Fierce, tense, and afraid of him.
The Beast never stood a chance, and neither did Ralph.
He remembered those nights he had held his lover till morning. He always hated the morning, it meant they would have to part. They had to go back to their own tribes. He remembered he had tried time and again to get the boy to join him, so that they could be together and it wouldn't be a secret anymore.
But it was too late now, and his chest ached. He blamed Ralph for this, if Ralph had only submitted to him, and allowed him to be chief none of that would have happened. His lover would be by his side, in his tribe.
When he remembered the boy's face, he couldn't help but soften. He was so fragile that he seemed the most child-like of all of them. They had found love together, they had grown together.
They explored things and feelings and desires that Adults forbid, and God watched with shame. He knew they would go to hell. But he didn't care. His paint ran a little with tears he didn't realize were slowly making their way down his face. Tightening his hand into a fist he slammed his thrown hard.
He hated thinking of the old days.. Where he was almost happy..
Before he..
Before he killed his boy..
Before he killed Simon.
; ^;