Senses
TITLE: Senses
FANDOM/PAIRING: Lost/DesmondxJack
PROMPT: Bondage
RATING: NC-17
WORD COUNT: 1701
SUMMARY: Jack doesn't like being tied up with most of his senses blocked but there's nothing he can do.
SPOILERS/WARNINGS: Up to 2.01, rape
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I wrote a rape fic. Ha. And I'm not sure if I can write these characters. Sorry if I can't.
Jack had come across people who were blind, who couldn't move their arms and their legs, who couldn't talk. He was a doctor; of course he had. All they normally got was a bit more attention, a bit of sympathy, maybe a tiny bit of pity, and then their problem taken care of the best it could be. But he never thought he'd be one of those people. At least not like this, not with someone else in charge of it.
The plan of examining the hatch had been simple. Go in, check it out, find out what the hell is in there, get out. It was supposed to be done during the day, with proper equipment, with the proper amount of help, not with Kate and Locke. And now he had no idea where the hell they were.
All he knew was that he couldn't see, he couldn't talk, and he couldn't move.
At least he was on a bed. It was the first bed he'd been on in over a month, and in any other circumstance, he would've fallen right to sleep. Now, with a handkerchief in his mouth, another around his head to cover his eyes, and a rope around his wrists, he couldn't exactly do that so easily. Especially since his wrists were behind him, and he was on his back, with his ass in the air, and his face in the bed.
The worst part was what was around his ankles. He'd seen it done once before in some really bad porno a friend in college had made him watch, where some blonde bimbo had been tied up and then raped in a football field all because she had been rooting for the other team or some stupid shit like that. They'd been so drunk out of their mind by the time that the friend had actually found it hot; Jack had been laughing his ass off because the girl's 'screams of agony' had been like moans and within five seconds, she was screaming at the top of her lungs for more.
But apparently Desmond had seen it too. Jack's ankles were tied up tightly, the ropes threatening to cut into the fragile skin, but then also tied around his upper thigh so tightly that it was digging into the skin, unable to slide down any so he could get leverage and remove it. Like that, he had them pressed against his stomach and chest, meaning he was completely exposed.
By now the clothes were removed, cut off by a pair of scissors, much better than the pair the beach had, leaving him even more out in the open. Just in this position would've been bad enough.
He wasn't callow when it came to sex, but he knew it wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be able to see. He was supposed to be able to guess the next move, anticipate where he should tilt his body to next. Hell, he'd never been with a guy but it wasn't that hard to figure out.
Maybe if he knew a person well, they could try this, but he'd met Desmond once. He'd seemed alright, but Jack had never been a good judge on character. He'd thought Kate was just a sweet country girl and she'd turned out to be a murderer. Hell, he'd thought his wife had been a nice woman and she'd turned out to be cheating, to be dating another man while they were still divorcing. The point was that maybe if he had known Desmond, but he didn't.
Yet there he was, stuck on the bed, and waiting. Desmond had disappeared to get something, and as he felt a slick finger pressing back against his hole, he knew it wasn't lube. He'd used that with one girlfriend who was adventurous, who had wanted to try a different type of sex.
"I have a lot of stuff, brother, but not enough. So you'll have to deal with vegetable oil. Unless you want me to go with spit?" he heard Desmond's voice taunt, and he quickly shook his head only to hear laughter. He knew better than to fight this, having seen the results on his days spent in the ER, and it'd be over soon enough.
Except that finger, fuck, that finger was way too big to be a finger, wasn't it?
Maybe he was just over exaggerating things in his mind. It didn't matter anyway, because soon there was another one, and he was fighting, just what he'd told himself not to. A quick jab of the digits got him to stop.
"Here's the thing, Doctor. I haven't been with anyone in a long, long time. So, since I have your friends in the food storage room, all tied up and locked in there, you better listen to me, got it? I got guns all over this place, and I won't hesitate to blow their brains out."
Jack was tense, but he wasn't fighting anymore. Damn it; how could someone have that much control over him? He closed his eyes tight underneath the cloth and remained silent, not even making any random grunts, trying to be a good little prisoner. Maybe they could all get out of this alive.
"Right now, brother, you've got two and a half senses." Jack was lost, and Desmond knew it. "You can hear, you can smell, and you can feel what I want you to feel. You can't touch though. You can't speak or taste really, and you can't see. So I want to see how much you can do."
Oh god. How sick and twisted was he? He seemed so normal in the stadium.
As the fingers left him, Jack knew he wasn't though. There was no way. Only a maniac could be doing this.
Then the cock, and oh god, it hurt. It hurt enough that Jack was screaming, and he had had Desmond's fingers inside of him. Sure, he hadn't spread them or anything but they had still been there. It must've done something.
The movements were fast, fast enough that he didn't feel anything besides a blur of pain and a burning pool of shame in his gut.
He could feel way too much pain though, and he knew something was going to rip. Still, it was a surprise as that tear came, the new pain almost mixing with the old, burning agony but at the same time not. He bit at his gag while able to feel the faintest amount of tears soaking through his blindfold.
Eventually a new burn, feeling like salt on a wound started as the other came into him. That was ignored as he felt disgusted and used, but at least he could get Kate out of there.
He was expecting to get out of the restraints quickly. Maybe he was foolish, but that was more or less what Desmond had said. The ropes around his ankles were even cut as soon as Desmond pulled out of him, except then all that happened was Jack was turned around, leaving him confused and disorientated for a few seconds.
When the hand came to grab him, slowly going up and then down, Jack found himself feeling sicker than ever. Desmond wanted him to come from this? It felt wrong and dirty; how the hell was this supposed to feel good? He had such a huge want to break away, to free himself and run off. But as Kate came to mind, he just grit his teeth and dealt with it.
He wasn't expecting anything to feel good but as one certain stroke down managed to hit a certain spot with Desmond's fingers, Jack took in a quick breath of air and felt himself reaching his full length. That wasn't good at all, but he kept calm still, Kate on his mind. Biting the cloth, he waited until he felt another jolt and the hand sped up which was when he began struggling.
"Brother, you keep fighting and I'll get her out," Desmond warned. But his voice was a strange mix of anger and a different emotion, lost in the fear and anxiety Jack felt. But Jack heard the threat, even if it was kept low in there, so he stopped.
It only took moments to get him to the edge, an uncomfortable one that he wished he wasn't at. With his hips rocking up, he wished he could hide under the bed. Or at least if they could do while he could see, so he was sure that they were alone. He knew he needed to stop though, because somehow this was exhilarating to him and it made him feel gross, so he kept biting the cloth and wishing for it to end. Not to come but for Desmond to leave.
He thought of other things to stop it from coming. Puppies, old women, Locke... Nothing worked, because his mind kept going back to Kate. Then one stroke in particular, rough that he was scared he'd be hurt but feeling so good in an odd way he'd never experienced with Sarah, threw him over the edge, making him gasp quietly against the fabric.
It's over. Let me go, he thought desperately, waiting to be completely untied. Then he could get dressed, and could leave, and they'd be able to kill this son of a bitch. He'd never thought he would think like that, not even for Ethan but after what had just happened, it was no surprise.
Desmond leaned downed to Jack's ear, a grin able to be heard in his voice as he whispered, "You did better than I thought you would, brother. I thought you'd break a few times. But here's the funny part. I let them go, before you woke up. Got sick of them complaining. And since it gets so lonely up here, and the sickness is up there... you're going to stay down there."
Jack ignored the hand he felt trailing down his back, instead focusing on his heart racing, wishing to god Kate and Locke would hurry up. It would take more than a few senses to get out of here.
FANDOM/PAIRING: Lost/DesmondxJack
PROMPT: Bondage
RATING: NC-17
WORD COUNT: 1701
SUMMARY: Jack doesn't like being tied up with most of his senses blocked but there's nothing he can do.
SPOILERS/WARNINGS: Up to 2.01, rape
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I wrote a rape fic. Ha. And I'm not sure if I can write these characters. Sorry if I can't.
Jack had come across people who were blind, who couldn't move their arms and their legs, who couldn't talk. He was a doctor; of course he had. All they normally got was a bit more attention, a bit of sympathy, maybe a tiny bit of pity, and then their problem taken care of the best it could be. But he never thought he'd be one of those people. At least not like this, not with someone else in charge of it.
The plan of examining the hatch had been simple. Go in, check it out, find out what the hell is in there, get out. It was supposed to be done during the day, with proper equipment, with the proper amount of help, not with Kate and Locke. And now he had no idea where the hell they were.
All he knew was that he couldn't see, he couldn't talk, and he couldn't move.
At least he was on a bed. It was the first bed he'd been on in over a month, and in any other circumstance, he would've fallen right to sleep. Now, with a handkerchief in his mouth, another around his head to cover his eyes, and a rope around his wrists, he couldn't exactly do that so easily. Especially since his wrists were behind him, and he was on his back, with his ass in the air, and his face in the bed.
The worst part was what was around his ankles. He'd seen it done once before in some really bad porno a friend in college had made him watch, where some blonde bimbo had been tied up and then raped in a football field all because she had been rooting for the other team or some stupid shit like that. They'd been so drunk out of their mind by the time that the friend had actually found it hot; Jack had been laughing his ass off because the girl's 'screams of agony' had been like moans and within five seconds, she was screaming at the top of her lungs for more.
But apparently Desmond had seen it too. Jack's ankles were tied up tightly, the ropes threatening to cut into the fragile skin, but then also tied around his upper thigh so tightly that it was digging into the skin, unable to slide down any so he could get leverage and remove it. Like that, he had them pressed against his stomach and chest, meaning he was completely exposed.
By now the clothes were removed, cut off by a pair of scissors, much better than the pair the beach had, leaving him even more out in the open. Just in this position would've been bad enough.
He wasn't callow when it came to sex, but he knew it wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be able to see. He was supposed to be able to guess the next move, anticipate where he should tilt his body to next. Hell, he'd never been with a guy but it wasn't that hard to figure out.
Maybe if he knew a person well, they could try this, but he'd met Desmond once. He'd seemed alright, but Jack had never been a good judge on character. He'd thought Kate was just a sweet country girl and she'd turned out to be a murderer. Hell, he'd thought his wife had been a nice woman and she'd turned out to be cheating, to be dating another man while they were still divorcing. The point was that maybe if he had known Desmond, but he didn't.
Yet there he was, stuck on the bed, and waiting. Desmond had disappeared to get something, and as he felt a slick finger pressing back against his hole, he knew it wasn't lube. He'd used that with one girlfriend who was adventurous, who had wanted to try a different type of sex.
"I have a lot of stuff, brother, but not enough. So you'll have to deal with vegetable oil. Unless you want me to go with spit?" he heard Desmond's voice taunt, and he quickly shook his head only to hear laughter. He knew better than to fight this, having seen the results on his days spent in the ER, and it'd be over soon enough.
Except that finger, fuck, that finger was way too big to be a finger, wasn't it?
Maybe he was just over exaggerating things in his mind. It didn't matter anyway, because soon there was another one, and he was fighting, just what he'd told himself not to. A quick jab of the digits got him to stop.
"Here's the thing, Doctor. I haven't been with anyone in a long, long time. So, since I have your friends in the food storage room, all tied up and locked in there, you better listen to me, got it? I got guns all over this place, and I won't hesitate to blow their brains out."
Jack was tense, but he wasn't fighting anymore. Damn it; how could someone have that much control over him? He closed his eyes tight underneath the cloth and remained silent, not even making any random grunts, trying to be a good little prisoner. Maybe they could all get out of this alive.
"Right now, brother, you've got two and a half senses." Jack was lost, and Desmond knew it. "You can hear, you can smell, and you can feel what I want you to feel. You can't touch though. You can't speak or taste really, and you can't see. So I want to see how much you can do."
Oh god. How sick and twisted was he? He seemed so normal in the stadium.
As the fingers left him, Jack knew he wasn't though. There was no way. Only a maniac could be doing this.
Then the cock, and oh god, it hurt. It hurt enough that Jack was screaming, and he had had Desmond's fingers inside of him. Sure, he hadn't spread them or anything but they had still been there. It must've done something.
The movements were fast, fast enough that he didn't feel anything besides a blur of pain and a burning pool of shame in his gut.
He could feel way too much pain though, and he knew something was going to rip. Still, it was a surprise as that tear came, the new pain almost mixing with the old, burning agony but at the same time not. He bit at his gag while able to feel the faintest amount of tears soaking through his blindfold.
Eventually a new burn, feeling like salt on a wound started as the other came into him. That was ignored as he felt disgusted and used, but at least he could get Kate out of there.
He was expecting to get out of the restraints quickly. Maybe he was foolish, but that was more or less what Desmond had said. The ropes around his ankles were even cut as soon as Desmond pulled out of him, except then all that happened was Jack was turned around, leaving him confused and disorientated for a few seconds.
When the hand came to grab him, slowly going up and then down, Jack found himself feeling sicker than ever. Desmond wanted him to come from this? It felt wrong and dirty; how the hell was this supposed to feel good? He had such a huge want to break away, to free himself and run off. But as Kate came to mind, he just grit his teeth and dealt with it.
He wasn't expecting anything to feel good but as one certain stroke down managed to hit a certain spot with Desmond's fingers, Jack took in a quick breath of air and felt himself reaching his full length. That wasn't good at all, but he kept calm still, Kate on his mind. Biting the cloth, he waited until he felt another jolt and the hand sped up which was when he began struggling.
"Brother, you keep fighting and I'll get her out," Desmond warned. But his voice was a strange mix of anger and a different emotion, lost in the fear and anxiety Jack felt. But Jack heard the threat, even if it was kept low in there, so he stopped.
It only took moments to get him to the edge, an uncomfortable one that he wished he wasn't at. With his hips rocking up, he wished he could hide under the bed. Or at least if they could do while he could see, so he was sure that they were alone. He knew he needed to stop though, because somehow this was exhilarating to him and it made him feel gross, so he kept biting the cloth and wishing for it to end. Not to come but for Desmond to leave.
He thought of other things to stop it from coming. Puppies, old women, Locke... Nothing worked, because his mind kept going back to Kate. Then one stroke in particular, rough that he was scared he'd be hurt but feeling so good in an odd way he'd never experienced with Sarah, threw him over the edge, making him gasp quietly against the fabric.
It's over. Let me go, he thought desperately, waiting to be completely untied. Then he could get dressed, and could leave, and they'd be able to kill this son of a bitch. He'd never thought he would think like that, not even for Ethan but after what had just happened, it was no surprise.
Desmond leaned downed to Jack's ear, a grin able to be heard in his voice as he whispered, "You did better than I thought you would, brother. I thought you'd break a few times. But here's the funny part. I let them go, before you woke up. Got sick of them complaining. And since it gets so lonely up here, and the sickness is up there... you're going to stay down there."
Jack ignored the hand he felt trailing down his back, instead focusing on his heart racing, wishing to god Kate and Locke would hurry up. It would take more than a few senses to get out of here.