Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story, nor do I own the Metal Gear Solid series (unfortunately). This is my first fic uploaded anywhere, I hope I don't suck... OTL
He wasn't alone.
Jack had spent his entire adult life convincing himself he was. The nightmares that haunted him every night were unrelenting, cruel to his already exhausted mind. He'd never understood. Something buried deep in the back of his mind told him these weren't just dreams.
He ignored it.
He ignored that the taste of gunpowder was surely too strong to be a figment of his imagination. The scent of blood and death was too intense. The sounds of gunfire and screaming were more horrific than anything he could have conjured up. Deep down inside, he knew he was a monster. Every night as he watched the light from outside cast eerie shadows over his bare room, dreading the slip into unconsciousness again, he heard them. The tortured screams. The explosions. The praise...
"That's my little Devil."
Where could monsters like him ever call home? Neither here nor or beside the woman who carried his child. No... Beasts took refuge with other beasts. One raven-haired individual in particular had taken to conveniently showing up wherever Jack happened to be after the events of the Big Shell.
He was never alone anymore.
Sleek black hair. Softer than he'd have imagined it to be. A strong body pressed against his own, familiar lips brushing over his neck. The rough feel of stubble on his skin coaxed a low moan from him. The man wore a long, black coat. His canines were razor sharp. He spoke with a smooth, silky accent that made every word he murmured to Jack send a chill down his spine. Perhaps he truly was a creature of the night. But that wasn't why they called him "Vamp".
Jack felt sorry for Rose, of course. She was asleep at home, dreaming the night away in the bed they were supposed to share. She didn't know her husband-to-be was pressed against a dark alley wall, another man's fingers combing through his white-blond hair, his pale blue eyes lidded as lips that weren't hers caressed his throat. But he didn't feel guilty enough to stop. He could push the shame away for one more night, he told himself. He'd stop... he'd stop for her sake... after just one more night where he could feel wanted.
He'd been telling himself the same thing for a while now.
Deft hands unclasped the buttons of the fairer man's shirt, exposing marble-white skin and the distinct tattoos underneath. His pants soon followed. The air carried a slight chill, but the heat of their bodies kept them warm, even when both men were fully unclothed. The light, teasing lips on his neck had long since become harsh, dominating kisses, their bodies joined together as Jack eagerly returned the rough affection. He'd had the courtesy to not take the younger man dry, though Jack didn't recall seeing him prepare himself. He didn't remember much of anything. He only knew the pleasure mixed in with the discomfort of the rough wall behind him. The hot, quick breath against his shoulder and the hand gripping his thigh made him feel more alive than Rose ever could.
And afterwards as they both held each other silently, their hearts racing as they came down from their high, he knew he wasn't strong enough to stop this. Not yet.