"Wrong"
Category: Romance, angst
Pairing: Jack/Roger maybe Twincest later
Warnings: Maybe some spoilers
Rating: PG-13 to R
Summary: Obviously AU. Ralph's dead, Jack is a submissive, and who knows, maybe mpreg by the end (everything I write pretty much ends in mpreg). Based off the 1990 movie mostly.
At first, it had all been a game. Then it had been a struggle for power. And after Ralph fell sobbing to the ground, crying in relief that they had been found, it had been a way of life. He had just lost it. They had driven him to the brink. His mind had collapsed on itself, knowing it would soon die. It made his death easier. Doubtless, he hardly felt the spears pierce his flesh and, eventually, his organs.
After Ralph's death, they had mounted his head, under Jack instruction, but no beast ever accepted it. It was decided that Ralph had, after all, been the monster the entire time. The boys carried on under Jack's control and they seemed to be living peacefully for a few years.
Nobody was quite sure when Roger began to share Jack's bed. The two had always been especially close. Roger was, after all, Jack's second in command. It was obvious he trusted him fully. He was the only one that Jack let light the fires or lead the dance. He always chose him first in the ritual beast hunt to represent their prey.
The whispers that they were something more began less than a year after Ralph's death. Some of the littluns claimed to have seen Roger leaving Jack's hut in the early hours of the morning, before the hunters awoke. Sometimes, Jack painted blood in patterns on his throat to hide the little bruises there.
Then the morning came where it began to rain, but it didn't storm. A day where Jack announced all may stay in the huts and spend the hours as they pleased, since the sun didn't seem to want to show up. The huts were sturdier then they were in the past. They kept the occupants dry and warm. Some of the littluns snuggled beneath their pigskins and returned to sleep.
Samneric were responsible for keeping Jack's bowls full. Jack always chose his favorites as slaves, but they were not considered as such. They were his men. The twins never felt any resentment.
So they filled four coconuts and, holding two each, trudged through the rain to the hut. They wished to hurry back to the warmth of their own hut, which they alone shared. Most of the littluns had three or four shoved in per shelter. Only Jack and Roger possessed their own huts, the best they had built.
And the twins had been met with such a site! The thumps of the coconuts broke Jack's concentration, as he moved against Roger's larger body. Their hips were pressed together like the edges of two halves of a cut coconut. They fit perfectly, like the twins themselves. Roger didn't even look up. Jack, who was resting on his stomach, only moved his head to the side, his eyes gazing into their own. They fled without a word.
They must have known that everyone would definitely know their secret now. The others even wondered why they bothered to hide it at all. Jack was the chief, and everyone always obeyed the chief. No one protested when Roger moved all his things to Jack's hut. Why would they? The twins received Roger's huts, and some of the littluns got some more legroom with an extra home.
Roger began to rule at Jack's side. First as a lesser being; then, as an equal. It gradually began to shift in the opposite direction. Jack stopped making decisions so quickly and looked towards Roger for his opinion. Roger still talked little, but it was obvious to the littluns even that Jack lost some of his dominance. No one could deny this when Roger would grab the smaller boy's arm and pull him, somewhat against his will, into his lap. But he didn't fight. But they still saw Jack as the leader, for he gave the directions. Even if they were Roger's directions, they came from Jack's pragmatic lips. Everyone obeyed his orders as if a close-knit coup wasn't slowly occurring. Why would they really care if Jack lost his position? He certainly wasn't the first on the island, and Roger and Jack cared too much for each other than to follow the path Ralph had lead.
And when the bruises began appearing on Jack's arms and back, they could pretend he fell down in the hunt. And when his face was suddenly always covered with the mask, well, he was allowed to wear it as much as he wished, he was the chief.
One day, he didn't come out of the hut. He didn't emerge the second day either, or third. Rumors began to spread. Roger was leading the hunt now. Jack rarely ever missed a hunt. On the fourth day, the twins said they saw Jack when they went to fill the bowls before anyone was awake. He was sprawled out on his back with one of Roger's arms draped across his stomach. The arm rose and fell steadily upon the rounded flesh and Jack was said to have turned and snuggled against Roger for warmth before the boys left. Doubtlessly, the open door had blown a chill through the hut.
On the eighth morning he emerged, paler than he was a week before, but no less healthy. He stood before the boys and soft-colored flowers were sprinkled at his feet. Roger stood beside him with his heavy-muscled arm lying across Jack's shoulders, and announced that Jack had went through a spiritual cleansing, the first part of their bonding ceremony. The ceremony would occur in one week, everyone was to prepare presents, food, and decoration. It would be a splendid day!
TBC?
Category: Romance, angst
Pairing: Jack/Roger maybe Twincest later
Warnings: Maybe some spoilers
Rating: PG-13 to R
Summary: Obviously AU. Ralph's dead, Jack is a submissive, and who knows, maybe mpreg by the end (everything I write pretty much ends in mpreg). Based off the 1990 movie mostly.
At first, it had all been a game. Then it had been a struggle for power. And after Ralph fell sobbing to the ground, crying in relief that they had been found, it had been a way of life. He had just lost it. They had driven him to the brink. His mind had collapsed on itself, knowing it would soon die. It made his death easier. Doubtless, he hardly felt the spears pierce his flesh and, eventually, his organs.
After Ralph's death, they had mounted his head, under Jack instruction, but no beast ever accepted it. It was decided that Ralph had, after all, been the monster the entire time. The boys carried on under Jack's control and they seemed to be living peacefully for a few years.
Nobody was quite sure when Roger began to share Jack's bed. The two had always been especially close. Roger was, after all, Jack's second in command. It was obvious he trusted him fully. He was the only one that Jack let light the fires or lead the dance. He always chose him first in the ritual beast hunt to represent their prey.
The whispers that they were something more began less than a year after Ralph's death. Some of the littluns claimed to have seen Roger leaving Jack's hut in the early hours of the morning, before the hunters awoke. Sometimes, Jack painted blood in patterns on his throat to hide the little bruises there.
Then the morning came where it began to rain, but it didn't storm. A day where Jack announced all may stay in the huts and spend the hours as they pleased, since the sun didn't seem to want to show up. The huts were sturdier then they were in the past. They kept the occupants dry and warm. Some of the littluns snuggled beneath their pigskins and returned to sleep.
Samneric were responsible for keeping Jack's bowls full. Jack always chose his favorites as slaves, but they were not considered as such. They were his men. The twins never felt any resentment.
So they filled four coconuts and, holding two each, trudged through the rain to the hut. They wished to hurry back to the warmth of their own hut, which they alone shared. Most of the littluns had three or four shoved in per shelter. Only Jack and Roger possessed their own huts, the best they had built.
And the twins had been met with such a site! The thumps of the coconuts broke Jack's concentration, as he moved against Roger's larger body. Their hips were pressed together like the edges of two halves of a cut coconut. They fit perfectly, like the twins themselves. Roger didn't even look up. Jack, who was resting on his stomach, only moved his head to the side, his eyes gazing into their own. They fled without a word.
They must have known that everyone would definitely know their secret now. The others even wondered why they bothered to hide it at all. Jack was the chief, and everyone always obeyed the chief. No one protested when Roger moved all his things to Jack's hut. Why would they? The twins received Roger's huts, and some of the littluns got some more legroom with an extra home.
Roger began to rule at Jack's side. First as a lesser being; then, as an equal. It gradually began to shift in the opposite direction. Jack stopped making decisions so quickly and looked towards Roger for his opinion. Roger still talked little, but it was obvious to the littluns even that Jack lost some of his dominance. No one could deny this when Roger would grab the smaller boy's arm and pull him, somewhat against his will, into his lap. But he didn't fight. But they still saw Jack as the leader, for he gave the directions. Even if they were Roger's directions, they came from Jack's pragmatic lips. Everyone obeyed his orders as if a close-knit coup wasn't slowly occurring. Why would they really care if Jack lost his position? He certainly wasn't the first on the island, and Roger and Jack cared too much for each other than to follow the path Ralph had lead.
And when the bruises began appearing on Jack's arms and back, they could pretend he fell down in the hunt. And when his face was suddenly always covered with the mask, well, he was allowed to wear it as much as he wished, he was the chief.
One day, he didn't come out of the hut. He didn't emerge the second day either, or third. Rumors began to spread. Roger was leading the hunt now. Jack rarely ever missed a hunt. On the fourth day, the twins said they saw Jack when they went to fill the bowls before anyone was awake. He was sprawled out on his back with one of Roger's arms draped across his stomach. The arm rose and fell steadily upon the rounded flesh and Jack was said to have turned and snuggled against Roger for warmth before the boys left. Doubtlessly, the open door had blown a chill through the hut.
On the eighth morning he emerged, paler than he was a week before, but no less healthy. He stood before the boys and soft-colored flowers were sprinkled at his feet. Roger stood beside him with his heavy-muscled arm lying across Jack's shoulders, and announced that Jack had went through a spiritual cleansing, the first part of their bonding ceremony. The ceremony would occur in one week, everyone was to prepare presents, food, and decoration. It would be a splendid day!
TBC?
