This story was also written for a friend (the same friend that requested I am Jack's Raging Bile Duct)

Jack/Splicer. M/M.

Dub-con? And violence. I don't condone any naughtiness. Just so we all know.

Title borrowed from Fight Club. Again.

I am Jack's Smirking Revenge

"No."

"C'mooon, big boy," the Splicer drawled out through lips that were almost torn to the jaw. He watched Jack's lips and swung his hips as he spoke, "I've been looking for a big guy like you. You know you want it."

"No. I don't."

He was disgusted. Jack had been moving through Rapture for weeks, months now and he still couldn't stand the sight of these monstrosities. He thought he'd adjust to their deformities, their scars, their shrieks that go on and on and on, and maybe he had. But this? This was something new entirely.

The Splicer moved slowly and deliberately in front of Jack, to a jukebox and leaned against it.

"Some music? Get you in the mood?"

He pushed a button and the speakers around them crackled alive.

"How much is that doggy in the – doggy in the – doggy in the -"

The Splicer looked at the jukebox, ruined mouth snarling in disapproval.

"No, you're right, this is terrible."

He lifted his wrench and smashed the glass of the jukebox, shattering it before he raised his wrench again and again, beating the song out of the machine until it whittled down and pushed them back into almost silence. Almost silence because the sound of Rapture straining under the weight of the ocean was always there, a constant reminder that this was the end of the road. The elite of civilisation buried.

After the fourth or fifth blow, the Splicer threw the wrench down and gave the machine a kick for good measure. Taking a step back, he blew out and pushed the hair in his face back into place and offered a lopsided grin to Jack. Jack regarded him and the Splicer 's eyes darkened, as they had been before he suggested the music. His eyes dropped to Jack's lips again before moving back up and they stayed there, his eyes on Jack's as he leaned forward, arms holding onto the destroyed jukebox as he tilted his hips up. Seductive. Erotic.

Jack's brow furrowed and he practically growled.

"I said no!" he spat, almost turning and leaving.

He could only blame himself. A smarter person wouldn't have let himself run out of not only EVE but ammo and weapons as well. When night is drawing closer and the Splicers get wild. But this Splicer, this plasmid junkie freak, is offering a deal.

It groaned and rolled it's hips.

"It's the only way you're gonna get my hypo," he taunted, grinning and licking his bottom lip. "I want you to fuck me."

Jack exhaled hard.

"I could kill you right now and take the hypo myself!"

The Splicer let go of the jukebox and turned to face Jack properly, his leer turning smug and mocking.

"Nah, you couldn't. I know that you haven't got any of your big guns on you. I saw those other guys take them when they knocked you down. That's gotta suck. Especially when you haven't got any EVE to keep you going."

The Splicer's hair was dark and long. It fell into his eyes and he kept having to push it back, making sure to move his hands slow and tilt his head suggestively with the movement. His eyes were equally dark. His clothes were expensive, Jack could tell. They were fashionable too. Stylish?

"I could beat you to death. With my fists."

The Splicer grinned, all teeth.

"I bet you wouldn't. Not when I have so many friends here," the Splicer cocked his head to the side and spread his arms out to his sides. Jack could hear the sound of metal against plaster. Spider Splicers. He tensed, shoulders knotting. The Splicer laughed, high pitched and almost feminine. "Just fuck me. I'll get what I want. And you'll get what you want. It is as simple as that"

"I don't want to fuck you, you sick freak!"

The Splicer leant forward and bowed his head in mock admonishment.

"Now, don't you take that tone with me, young man."

He took a step forward and then another when Jack took a step back. The Splicer had his seemingly perpetual smile planted back on his face and kept moving closer, delicately, dancing his path, all hips and tippy-toes, until Jack's back hit a wall. The Splicer smiled wider, wider with his mouth that was torn in the edges, wider than a smile ought to be and he laughed again, that girly laugh that sent chills down Jack's spine. The way his hair fell forward and cast shadows over his grotesque features, he almost looked like a girl.

The Splicer leaned in, bringing his face close to Jack's, but leaving space between their bodies. His hands were behind his back, but he kept his balance.

He was shorter than Jack, the top of his head only coming up to Jack's chin and he was slender, thin. But not frail looking at all.

He brought his tongue out to wet his lips again, a slip of pink, there and gone and the Splicer caught Jack's eyes tracking it.

"You smell like sweat. I like the scent of a real man."

Jack leant into the wall as far as he could, pressing himself flat against it, turning his head away from the Splicer.

"Why are you so against this anyway? Is it because I'm a guy?" The Splicer sounded more curious than anything else and he glanced down at his own body before looking up again. "Because not to blow my own trumpet or anything but, uh, I'm pretty hot stuff. As far as things are concerned down in this shit hole at least."

Jack looked back at the Splicer. Aside from the gaping mouth … He had probably been attractive before. Androgynous. Or something.

"And you know it too, just come here."

The Splicer leaned into Jack then, pressing his weight into him, pressing a hardness into Jack's leg and his face into Jack's neck, managing to taste the salty skin before Jack pushed him away.

The Splicer laughed all the same and crowed victoriously, "How long has it been? How long has it been since anyone has touched you? Since you've felt skin against yours? Since your cock has been in another warm, willing body?"

Jack was breathing heavy, body angled in a fighting stance, but his fists weren't raised. He couldn't remember. He knew what to do with it, but he couldn't remember an instance where he'd actually used it. Which was … strange. He faltered and the doubt flicked across his face.

The Splicer stepped closer again and took one of Jack's wrists, wrapping the hand in his own and bringing it down to his crotch. Jack could feel the Splicer's erection but didn't pull back.

Why couldn't he remember? Why was this new to him?

The Splicer moved closer and took Jack's other hand, pulling it around him and pressing it into his ass. Jack wasn't watching him, his eyes were distant and the Splicer started moving the hand on his crotch, rubbing Jack against his hardness, purring at the sensation. When Jack didn't move, the Splicer pushed himself closer to Jack, sharing oxygen now, and dragged Jack's hand along his dick faster, groaning. Letting go of the hand that he was holding on his ass, he unbuttoned and unzipped his expensive trousers and pulled them down enough that he could tug his cock out into the 'fresh' air.

Why hadn't he had sex before? He must have. At some point. Surely?

The Splicer placed Jack's hand on himself again, skin on skin contact this time and moaned, low and filthy. He covered each of Jack's fingers with his own and pulled, masturbating himself.

Jack's eyes flicked down then, at his hand on the Splicer's dick. The Splicer looked up at Jack through lidded eyes, satisfied smirk in place.

"Just do it already. Stop being such a pussy and do it."

The Splicer released Jack's hand, turned himself around and pressed his ass against Jack's crotch. He rolled his hips against the erection that Jack hadn't realised had started to fill. Slowly, Jack's hands moved towards the Splicer's slender hips, fingers light at first but then digging in, roughly pulling the Splicer's ass up and down his erection, grinding against it. The Splicer gasped when Jack pushed him forwards, to the jukebox machine and put his hands out just before his face hit the broken glass. Jack moved back behind him, grabbing his hips again and carrying on as before, with more fervour this time, rutting up to the dip between the Splicer's cheeks, authoritative and demanding.

Jack felt like he was fumbling in the dark, looking for the flash light that would show him just what was causing the cold sweat, the goosebumps, the feeling of being watched. He was a pawn in a chess game and he couldn't see the players.

Why was nothing about this familiar?

He could feel blood in his ears and flesh under his fingers but the rest was out of sync, his mind was elsewhere, but he needed to concentrate, needed to remember and know what this was and why his memories are missing.

"Now this is more like it," the Splicer panted, holding hard onto the metal frame of the jukebox. "Hang on, hang on- hold up a second there-"

The Splicer managed to pry Jack's fingers from his waist and pulled his shirt up a little. His pale skin had turned shades of pink and red and there were two distinct hand prints blooming in purple over his slender hipbones.

"You're rough – I knew you'd be fun," the Splicer quipped as he dropped to his knees and started tugging at Jack's trousers. Unbuckling the belt, unpopping the button, undoing the zip and then a hand in. His long fingers found Jack's dick and there was cool air, musty but exposing and then warm again. Jack looked down and watched as he disappeared between the Splicer's lips, jagged as they were.

Warm, wet heat and Jack felt felt light-headed at the sight of his bobbing head. Light-headed and … angry. This, too. He couldn't say that he'd ever felt anything like this. And it was this Splicer, this abomination's fault. It hadn't mattered before. It hadn't mattered before this freak with his torn face and girlish body had refused him his EVE.

Jack's hands caught the Splicer's hair and yanked him away from his cock, pushing him to the floor. The Splicer landed on his hands and knees, wrists catching on the broken glass and spotting the floor with red. He hissed in pain and surprise. Jack was behind him fast, pulling the Splicer's shirt up and catching his buttocks in his large hands.

The Splicer gasped, throwing a dark look behind him.

"That's how you wanna play it, huh?"

"Shut up," Jack growled, before pushing the Splicer's head to the floor, holding his neck in one hand whilst he positioned himself with the other. "You wanted this, now you're gonna get it."

He thrust in. Hard. The Splicer jerked beneath him and keened out, long and high. His knees shuddered and they caught on bits of glass.

Jack's eyes clenched shut as he let out a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding. A slight relief washed over him.

This is what it feels like. But he should know that already. And he didn't.

The anger renewed and he looked down at the body beneath him. He pulled back and then thrust back in. The Splicer cried out again, but it wasn't a cry to stop, it was encouragement. Jack repeated his movements, started a rhythm, his grip on the Splicer's bruised hips fierce as he dragged him back and forth on his dick, relishing in every hurt whimper and breathy gasp that escaped the Splicer.

You … wanted … this. Jack punctuated every thought word with a sharp snap of his hips. You're ... going … to … get … it!

The Splicer's cries ricocheted off the walls around them, echoing through the corridors and halls of Rapture and somewhere in Jack's mind he remembered that there were other Splicers nearby, he could feel them in the shadows of his periphery. He just didn't care. Let them watch. Let them see.

Soon his movements became erratic and he saw one of the Splicer's hands moving beneath him, jerking himself off. Jack was half tempted to push him even lower, squash his hand and cock and deny him any relief, but then he was gone, his mind drew blank, his eyes almost crossed over with the force of his orgasm and he came, marking the Splicer inside and then pulling out in time to mark him over his back. The Splicer groaned long and low as he came and he fell forward onto the floor. He didn't bother moving out of his come or broken glass.

Jack pulled his jeans up and leant forward, his hand disappearing into the material of the Splicer's jacket. The Splicer didn't move and Jack assumed that he had passed out. He withdrew holding the glowing hypo and wasted no time in injecting it. Dropping the empty syringe next to the Splicer's body he stood and buttoned his jeans before turning to look into the shadows.

Right. Time to get my guns back.