Jack is twelve when the Mallrats are formed and, like most twelve-year-old boys, spends a lot of time either with his hand on his dick or thinking about it.
The night after Bray comes to the Mall, he imagines someone else's hand. It's a bit difficult, because Bray's hands are a lot bigger, but he's got a good imagination. Bray would be gentle, he thinks, so he's gentle. It still doesn't quite work, but the fantasy gets him off for the next few nights.
Then, he tries to imagine someone over him. That's even more difficult, so he piles blankets on top of himself trying to get the weight of another person. That makes it better. He imagines Bray on top of him, holding him down, and it's better still.
Slowly, he begins to understand what he wants.
Dal is his age, with brown skin and black curls. Jack is taken with him at once.
Luckily, it appears that Dal is equally taken with him. About two months after they first meet, Jack has just enough confidence to put his hand first on Dal's shoulder, then his chest, then drag it down his stomach to his crotch. Dal lets him, breath shallow.
For the first time, he has his hand on another boy's dick. He has a moment of utterly blind panic that he doesn't know what to do - then common sense kicks in because of course he knows what to do: it's a cock, he's got his own. It can't be that difficult.
He's right, it isn't. He can feel Dal's heartbeat through his dick. He holds as tight as he dares, and it must be okay because Dal makes these funny noises and comes all over his hand.
Jack is still hard, and his breath catches strangely in his throat. This is rectified when Dal awkwardly shifts over to him and sticks his hand down Jack's pants. It's probably no better than what he did to Dal, but Jack finds himself making these little uh, uh noises before the sparks go off behind his eyes.
They both have sticky come on their hands. This could be extremely awkward. Instead, Dal just shrugs and gets up to wash his hands. Jack follows. It's not romantic, but it's friendly (and Jack will tell himself that's all he wanted anyway).
Luke is slightly different. Bray and Dal were both Mallrats: they were on the same side. It was permissible.
Luke is not permissible. Luke is caramel skin and dark blue hair and unwelcome attempts at kindness. Jack looks at his mouth and starts thinking about blowjobs.
Luke will never want him, which is good because Jack doesn't really want Luke (except he does, a bit, because there's that awful suspicion he has that Luke is in fact a good person). So he's free to imagine things that Luke will never do, because he's not getting off on Luke; he's getting off on the idea of Luke, of his power.
He imagines Luke grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back. Maybe he'd tie him up. He could shove him to the ground, onto his stomach, and kneel behind him and whisper filthy things in his ear. Or get him on his knees, and make him suck him off. He could spank Jack hard enough to leave bruises.
None of these things are ever going to happen. It doesn't stop Jack from wrapping his other hand around his wrist when he masturbates, trying to clutch hard enough to bruise.
Jack returns to a changed Mall. The Guardian has been deposed, the Chosen are fleeing and Luke has his girlfriend. He sulks as only a teenager can.
Shortly afterwards, Lex becomes Sheriff. Complete with silly hat - only Jack doesn't think it's that silly. Actually, it brings up all sorts of fantasies that he'd largely forgotten, about some big strong guy in a position of authority holding him down and fucking him. Lex doesn't quite meet the height requirement, but that doesn't matter when it's all in his head.
When it actually happens with Luke, it doesn't go quite like how Jack imagined it. He finds Luke wandering the Mall at night, hair messy and eyes dark and liquid, and it's very easy to seize him by the arm and pull him into an alcove and say in a voice that doesn't sound like it belongs to him at all - 'Suck my cock.'
And he does. Which is crazy, really, because Luke could probably take him in a fight, but he just does what Jack tells him to. Gets down on his knees like he wants to be there, unzips Jack's trousers and puts his cock in his mouth.
It's - good, probably. He thinks Luke's does this before. It would probably be 'pleasurable' if he could concentrate on the pleasure of it instead of his anger. Getting off right here, right now, like this, isn't about enjoying it. He wants Luke to know how angry he is, and because it's his fault, get some of his own back. He winds his hands in blue hair and pulls as much as he dares.
He tears Luke's head away when he comes, more like relief than release, and paints Luke's face white. He leaves him there, gasping. Let him explain that to Ellie.
Mega is the first guy who fucks Jack 'properly'. As in, up the arse.
It just sort of happens - he's a sort-of prisoner of the Technos, Ram is still in power, he has a job to do and he can't stop staring at Mega's haughty little smirk. Or the curve of his back, or the dark skin at his wrists.
One night, Mega is waiting for him when he turns around. A hand on his shoulder and he's shoved against the wall, face first. The room feels strangely quiet - he can hear the creak of leather as Mega strips off his gloves.
Mega strips him methodically, until he's stood there in only his socks. Jack daren't turn around to see if Mega's getting undressed too, but he doesn't think he is. Mega rearranges him so now his palms are against the wall and his body is further away, making him bend over. He feels very exposed.
Mega slides two fingers into him at once. There's no warning and it hurts, but he doesn't mind: this is what Mega is like. He has at least used lube - always prepared, always methodical. It feels strange, and it burns when Mega at last thrusts his cock in, but it's worth it. He has the sensation of fullness, of being taken - Mega is rough, gripping his hips hard enough to bruise. That's good - he wants bruises, something to take away.
He has to get himself off, because he knows Mega won't do it: his own hand on his cock, grip almost painful. Mega is being downright vicious, hands clamped vise-like on Jack's hips, thrusting into him like he's punishing him.
(Jack can't imagine anything better).
Slade catches him one summer night in Liberty, when they're both a little tipsy and feeling wild. He presses him up against the wall of a building, laughing, and Jack's laughing too. It's easy to lick away the bead of sweat on Slade's neck. From there it's easy to kiss him, and from there it's very easy to rut against each other, mouths open and wet. Jack tilts his head back to let Slade bite his neck, playful and wild, and laughs and laughs into the star-speckled sky.
In the end, it all comes back to this: Dal, because he was the first, and Luke, the one who might have been the one.
Sometimes, he imagines the sex. It'd be good, he thinks - lazy morning sex, someone's hand gripping his throat, the other's fingers at his hips. They'd all get out of bed bruised and smiling. Dal would cook, he thinks, because he once told Jack that he'd like to. Maybe Luke would too - he can imagine both of them being domestic. They'd be part of a tribe that didn't mind them all living and sleeping together. Most of all, they'd be happy.
On the boat, watching his homeland recede across the water, Jack feels something in him let go. He's not that boy who could only fantasise about being held down and made to take it any more - he's experienced it. He's had sex without love and love without sex. He feels strangely adult.
Later, he'll find the One - or maybe the Two, or even the Three. Dal and Luke will be with him, tucked into a corner of his heart, but it's time to open himself up to the kind of love that they might have shared.
He goes below with a new spring in his step - and he very deliberately doesn't look back.