It was a Saturday.
Or a Sunday...
I don't like to count days.
I don't want to know the number of them that have slipped through my fingers since I've seen him.
Dad's away now.
Has been for five months.
I have a nanny that comes to check on me every other day.
"If I can survive on an island," he'd say,
"then I can take of the house like a man should."
I am alone.
No, friends, no tribe, no orchestra of wildlife to keep me awake at night.
My dreams do that for me.
My couch is too comfortable so I'm sitting in the floor when the front bell sounds.
I barely register it, so deep in my thoughts, but it sounds again, calling me to.
The cool handle makes me shiver as I pull open the heavy door.
Dry, chilly air slaps my face, once more reminding me that it's not humid like on the island.
It doesn't carry the scent of ripe fruit and salt from the ocean.
It doesn't hold the smell of sweaty, half naked boys, basking in the sun or shade.
I snap out of me depression at the sound of my name hesitantly uttered through unsure lips.
"Ralph?"
The shock of familiarity hits me like a tidal wave.
Like three years ago, my name seeks solace.
"Jack."
I hadn't realized it was him until I opened my mouth, his name spilling out like water held back by a dam.
There he was, on my door step, staring at me, lips slightly parted, mirroring mine.
His fiery hair lighting up my grey neighborhood, and his bright eyes lighting up my soul.
"Found you."
A hint of a smile pulled at the corner of his lips.
I lost it, or rather, he took it from me.
My restraint.
I hurled myself at him, crushing his lean body with words I had nearly died not saying.
He's taller than me now, my mind barely had time to think.
His arms were warm and strong, wrapping around me just as tightly.
We held each other, uncaring of the suns that might set or stars that would shine.
I would never let him go.
We stood for a long while, letting our breath synchronize and our hearts pound against each other in our chests.
A cold wind was what brought us back from our stupor.
As I pulled away, I realized he was crying, and so was I.
Like men, we quickly wiped our eyes and cleared our throats.
I muttered an invitation into my house and he brushed past me.
The first ten or so minutes were spent in silence, in the only sound was my grandmother's clock, ticking deeply from the Mantle.
We would exchange nervous glances and half smiles, still embarrassed by our embrace.
Both of us took the time wasted to examine the changes the other had received over the years.
As I said, he had gotten taller, more lanky.
His face had hardened, having lost the extra weight from childhood and gaining the roughened skin of a man.
Slight, lean muscles accompanied by a broader chest and shoulders, also, were apparent.
No longer was this the boy painted and bloody with only a spear and small cloth to keep away nakedness.
This was a man.
Swallowing my thoughts to add to the butterflies in my stomach, I braved the silence and spoke first.
"H-How, erm,"
My voice cracked so I stopped to blush and clear my throat,
"How did you find me?"
He was fully absorbed with the hem of his shirt as he quietly answered, his voice drowned out by the silence of the large room.
"Your dad's name was in an article from a few years back. I looked you up in the phone book..."
I was up and over to him in two strides, my fist connected to the hollow of his cheek.
"YOU BLOODY WANKER! YOU COULD HAVE VISITED 'A FEW YEARS BACK'?"
Hot tears rolled down my to my surprise, as fast as I had punched him and yelled, he recovered and tackled me.
"ME?"
He growled, the wild look i was so accustomed to back in his eyes.
"WHY DIDN'T YOU COME TO ME?"
He gripped my shirt and puller me closer, our angry faces very close then.
Silence descended over the room again, save the ticking of the clock and our heated breath.
I reached up my hand, not to pry off his, but to gently trail it down his cheek.
He let his eyes fall closed, like all the years had added to their weight, and rested his skin against mine.
Passion over took us then.
Feelings, unknown to both of us, being vented in the moment our our lips closed the gap time and land had created.
My hand, once resting on his cheek, tangled itself in his hair, red as the blood coloring our faces.
He let his weight set more fully upon me and pressed our lips closer, tilting his head as to strengthen the connection.
A heavy pause came, the severity of the situation hitting us.
Whether to continue or separate.
Jack answers for me and kisses me gently, running his palms down my chest.
I wrapped my arms around his freckled neck and parted my lips to let him know that I approved.
After what seemed like days, we paused again to catch our breath and put our heads back on our shoulders.
I laid a hand on his chest and he nodded, blushing, and rolled off of me.
Using the edge of my father's armchair, I hoisted my body off the floor, breaths still escaping deeply and plentifully through my swollen lips.
Suddenly, calloused finders brushed the skin on the small of my back, lifting my shirt.
Soft lips paint silky kisses down the back of my neck.
I felt my eyes widen and I nearly cried out in surprise.
As a matter of fact, I think I did.
"Nh!"
I felt his warm lips curve in a smile against the goose bump covered skin of my neck.
Jack teasingly traced his fingers over my bare hips and let them feel my stomach.
Unable to suppress it, a shiver runs down my spine.
"J-Jack..."
I whisper and squirm against his stronger body.
Soon, my shirt rested over the arm of the chair where my father's forearm goes and Jack's body pushed mine forward until, still on my knees, I'm leaning all of my weight on it as well.
He let his thumb under the waist of my pants and tugged gently, asking permission.
By this point, I'm so over taken by the sensation of his caresses, I can only nod Breathlessly.
He carefully, as if trying not to startle a doe, reached around, letting his hand brush my soft skin, and unbutton my pants.
I'm surprised by how good that alone feels and, in horror, realize it's because it's relieving the intense pressure in my groin.
I had pitched a tent in the wilderness of passion that was, at this moment, my parlor.
He chuckled and unzipped them.
An unbidden sigh of relief slipped my lips and I griped the chair, intent on keeping control over my mouth.
Sensing this I think, he nipped at the sensitive skin right below my right ear.
I gasped and then bit my lips, mildly disappointed in myself for the failure.
Jack didn't seem to mind however, as he continued in his tease and touches, electing noises from me like lightning makes thunder.
My shirt became a constant pester in our minds, so we mutually decided to get rid of it.
I could tell this pleased him by the way he ravenously proceeded to massage my back with his mouth and finger tips.
I must have looked like a fool, practically writhing, driven wild by the fire and ice he was treating me to.
Damn Jack Merridew and his blasted body.
Ignoring my inner cursing, he lifted me out of my kneeling position, by my hips so my ass was higher, my hands still gripping the armchair.
His strength was intoxicating.
Being moved about like a doll for his play.
Still stunned by the quick change of position, I could only make a sort of whimpering sound when he pulled my pants down around my knees.
With a shiver from the cold, I realized my underwear had been pulled down as well.
"Jack!"
We both knew my protest wasn't real.
I had known very well what was about to happen, and had done nothing to stop it.
I heard him fondle with his belt and trousers, not telling me anything.
He was letting me mentally prepare.
He spit into his hand and I blushed, understanding, with embarrassment, what he was doing.
Sparks lit up my spine as he traced it and rest his hands on my hips strongly, letting me know this was my last chance to object.
I let his name be whispered through my lips, the heat unconcealed.
He kissed my back and pressed his head against me.
The feeling made me squirm and tense.
"Relax. Or it will hurt more, Ralph."
My name comforted me.
Letting me know who I was with and that he did too.
A small grunt from my throat let him know I was ready.
He pushed in.
The intrusion was rough, and not all together pleasant.
I gritted my teeth and hissed in pain.
I heard his breath hitch and his fingers clenched my waist.
We waited for the smoke to clear and to become adjusted to the situation.
Rocking his hips slightly, told me he was ready, just waiting for me to give the okay.
It still bloody hurt so I gave it one more second then pushed back on him.
Finally, it was his turn to gasp.
Though, it might have been me.
I was so deafened by the sensation at the time, I wouldn't know.
I had no time to think about it however, as Jack started to gently thrust.
He chuckled and, with a start, I noticed the horribly embarrassing noises I was making.
"That's right, moan for me, Ralph."
I shuddered and did as he told, uncaring the, of the sounds.
Jack Merridew played me like an instrument for the rest of the day until our sweaty bodies could do nothing but tremble.
Somehow, I had made it face down on the rug and that put me right at eye level to observe my ornate fireplace.
Ever since I had returned, the fireplace in my parlor was Always lit and burning.
The crackling reminding me that I was safe.
The warm light, a blanketed protector against loneliness's chill.
But now, once again on account of the Hunter Chief and his prey, the fire was out.
I smiled and that turned into a laugh.
All the years of bleak nothingness forgotten.
He rolled me over at looked at me strangely for a moment before my fit of laughter caught on like the fire that dyed his hair.
We chuckled and lay on the carpet with smirks and sweat.
"Do you remember how I told you how Roger stuck his spear right up that one pig's ass?"
Jack asked laughing.
I laughed harder and he kissed my cheek and whispered into my ear,
"I skewered you with my spear, little piggy."
I smiled and weakly punched his chest, all strength used up and replied,
"Sucks to your spear, Jack."