Title: A New Mask
Rating: Pg-13 (little blood, but is it possible not to for LOTF?)
Pairing: Roger/Jack
Summery: AU, Ralph doesn't survive this time.
Jack watched Ralph's feet catch on the vegetation of the island's beach, adrenaline surging through his young body. Through the sweat drops that blurred his vision, it appeared as if the tendrils had reached up and grabbed the boy's slender ankles, like the island wished for his hunters to catch him. Yes, it was his island. And it was an island that wished to keep him there, he owned the island and the island owned him. They were equal.
Ralph's body fell heavily into the sand, small grains of white quartz cushioning his body, appearing as though the beach were trying to consume him. Before it could finish the feast, his hunter's were upon him.
Jack felt oddly serene as he lifted his spear and let it fall. Roger was at his side. He felt his presence and when he looked beside him, there was a dirty little boy stained with blood, the barest glimpse of cloth covering the beauty which society had shunned.
The spear fell from Jack's hand. He stepped back, surveying. The boys still stabbed at the mutilated body. Ralph was long since dead, but the boys still attacked with rabid ferocity, ferocity that he had instilled within them. He saw little Percival Wemys Madison sink little white pearls into Ralph's brown ear and rip off cartilage and flesh.
"It is done," when had Roger stepped back, taking his place beside him?
"We are secure."
"We will not return."
"Society is gone."
"Yes."
"He was the last of that society."
"Yes."
Jack turned to Roger, pulled a knife from his belt. Roger did on flinch or cry out. He did not fear Jack. The blade sliced and Roger meager cloths fell away.
"They don't serve any purpose. They're too small for warmth and the island is never cold."
"They're society."
"Yes, that's what I mean."
"What abut the boys? Are they society also?"
Jack looked up the bloody, filthy beings before him. Most had stopped stabbing and some sat in the sand, laughing and taking among themselves. Others were starting to cut off chunks of Ralph's body.
"Boys are society, but these are warriors. Morals are society, and humbleness, and self control."
"Self control is harmful."
"It's degrading," Jack agreed, and suddenly he was upon his knees before Roger, skinny arms around the large boy's waist, face nuzzled into salty, musky flesh. Roger set a hand upon Jack's soft, overgrown hair.
"Sex is society."
"No," Jack disagreed, "Sex to produce offspring is society, sex between boys is natural."
Roger did not bother to think this thoroughly over, or about how this statement was a complete irony.
"I can't come yet, and I don't have any hair."
"I have both, that will do for now. You'll grow quickly. Your bones are already larger than mine, and your muscles are magnificent."
"Why do you choose me?"
"Because we are the same. Our species is different than that of the hunters' before us. We have no choice but to seek each other."
"They're watching us."
"Do you care?"
"No," Roger lowered himself slowly to his knees, leveling himself off with Jack. When he raised his hand to Jack's face, a red handprint lingered.
Rating: Pg-13 (little blood, but is it possible not to for LOTF?)
Pairing: Roger/Jack
Summery: AU, Ralph doesn't survive this time.
Jack watched Ralph's feet catch on the vegetation of the island's beach, adrenaline surging through his young body. Through the sweat drops that blurred his vision, it appeared as if the tendrils had reached up and grabbed the boy's slender ankles, like the island wished for his hunters to catch him. Yes, it was his island. And it was an island that wished to keep him there, he owned the island and the island owned him. They were equal.
Ralph's body fell heavily into the sand, small grains of white quartz cushioning his body, appearing as though the beach were trying to consume him. Before it could finish the feast, his hunter's were upon him.
Jack felt oddly serene as he lifted his spear and let it fall. Roger was at his side. He felt his presence and when he looked beside him, there was a dirty little boy stained with blood, the barest glimpse of cloth covering the beauty which society had shunned.
The spear fell from Jack's hand. He stepped back, surveying. The boys still stabbed at the mutilated body. Ralph was long since dead, but the boys still attacked with rabid ferocity, ferocity that he had instilled within them. He saw little Percival Wemys Madison sink little white pearls into Ralph's brown ear and rip off cartilage and flesh.
"It is done," when had Roger stepped back, taking his place beside him?
"We are secure."
"We will not return."
"Society is gone."
"Yes."
"He was the last of that society."
"Yes."
Jack turned to Roger, pulled a knife from his belt. Roger did on flinch or cry out. He did not fear Jack. The blade sliced and Roger meager cloths fell away.
"They don't serve any purpose. They're too small for warmth and the island is never cold."
"They're society."
"Yes, that's what I mean."
"What abut the boys? Are they society also?"
Jack looked up the bloody, filthy beings before him. Most had stopped stabbing and some sat in the sand, laughing and taking among themselves. Others were starting to cut off chunks of Ralph's body.
"Boys are society, but these are warriors. Morals are society, and humbleness, and self control."
"Self control is harmful."
"It's degrading," Jack agreed, and suddenly he was upon his knees before Roger, skinny arms around the large boy's waist, face nuzzled into salty, musky flesh. Roger set a hand upon Jack's soft, overgrown hair.
"Sex is society."
"No," Jack disagreed, "Sex to produce offspring is society, sex between boys is natural."
Roger did not bother to think this thoroughly over, or about how this statement was a complete irony.
"I can't come yet, and I don't have any hair."
"I have both, that will do for now. You'll grow quickly. Your bones are already larger than mine, and your muscles are magnificent."
"Why do you choose me?"
"Because we are the same. Our species is different than that of the hunters' before us. We have no choice but to seek each other."
"They're watching us."
"Do you care?"
"No," Roger lowered himself slowly to his knees, leveling himself off with Jack. When he raised his hand to Jack's face, a red handprint lingered.