"Crickets make music by rubbing their legs together."

Ralph didn't stand a chance. Here he was, kneeling in the center of a triangle of nine savages. Jack stood next to him, holding his head up by the hair. He kept moving in a circle around Ralph, talking and taunting with his C-sharp voice, the grip on his scalp ever-tightening. His knees hurt from the sand. The moon and the surrounding boys, just as naked as he was, seemed to be mocking him.

"You know the drill." Jack said. "I captured the conch. You can have it back when I've had my jollies."

Ralph's tattered pants had been taken from him. He wasn't the same as when he arrived on the island. He'd gotten taller, more shapely. He had hair in strange places.

Jack noticed it too. He bent down behind the crouching Ralph and gave a sharp tug to the thing dangling between his legs. Ralph yelped and squeezed his legs together, a futile attempt to hide the thing.

Jack took Ralph again by the hair and dragged him through the sand into the forest. The others looked on in curiosity, but didn't think to follow.

The stars in the night sky looked benevolently down on the two boys as Jack trudged through the woods, beating down creeper vines with one hand and dragging Ralph with the other. Soon, they came to a clearing bordered on one side by a steep chunk of pink granite rock. It shimmered and glowed in the dark. Ralph knew the place but had never seen it in the night time…

This was where Jack always took him when he captured the conch.

Ralph knew what would come next. They would stage a fake struggle, Ralph would pretend to lose and Jack would pretend to win. Then they'd have their fun. The following week, Ralph knew, it would be the opposite: Ralph would have the conch; Jack would lose and Ralph would win. Then, once again, the same type of fun! On the winner's terms.

Jack threw Ralph at the granite wall and his back hit it with a soft thunk. He braced himself, palms against the stone, as Jack calmly paced in front of him, hand on chin, trying to come up with something to do. Something new, exciting… conch-worthy.

In an instant, Jack had it. He rushed at Ralph. He crushed him between his own body and the hard rock, taking a handful of Ralph's blond hair in his hand and yanking it back. Ralph's poor sore scalp yielded and his face was forced upward to the sky. He saw that the moon was full and blue. The granite wall was like an altar. The crickets were chanting druids. All that was a needed was a little blood sacrifice to complete this hatefucking ceremony.

Jack's mouth was on him. It was sucking the skin of his neck and shoulder and spitting out sand and dirt. Ralph rolled his eyes down and saw Jack's blue eyes gazing up at him as he sucked the tan skin of his chest. Their gazes connected. Jack didn't like it. He covered Ralph's eyes with his hand. The other hand he used to hike up Ralph's right leg and rest it gently on his hip. Ralph's hands hung slack at his sides and he let Jack hae his own way.

Ralph couldn't see, but he heard Jack spit downward, then thrust something hard, slick and moist into the hot crease created by his two thighs. Jack stopped sucking at Ralph's chest long enough to move his head up, face-to-face, and stare into his eyes again. Ralph saw the two sparkling brown things for a full half second before Jack's vigorous pumping thrust him once more against the wall. The feel of Jack's hips driving him up the wall, combined with the heat of the -thing- hitting his groin, gave him a hot feeling in his abdomen. He started to harden, and Jack took notice. He took both his and Ralph's cocks in his hand and stroked them both at once.

It was too much for Ralph to take.

Ralph released himself. Jack backed away, his member still hard, now dotted with whitish splotches from Ralph's release. He nodded and Ralph took the cue that he was free to go. He ran off into the darkness, back to his part of the island.

Tomorrow morning, Ralph would wake up, the debt would be paid, and the conch would be dropped in the sand in front of his hut, safely with him again.

Now Jack stood alone in the clearing, stroking himself to the thought of Ralph's helpless face, and then slowly walked back to his tribe.

"Jollies?" Roger asked, as Jack stumbled out of the forest.

"Had 'em."