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Frustrated, Ralph pushes his hair out of his face, the blonde locks sticking to his forehead. He glares up at the makeshift shelter he’s attempting to fix, turning away from it in a huff. Weary and heat-sick, he plops down on a shaded log, attempting to wipe some of the sweat and jungle stickiness from his brow—stupid Jack. Stupid Jack and his stupid hunters, leaving Ralph to do everything at camp by himself.
He’s spent all day alternating between building shelters and keeping watch on the littleun’s. Ralph doesn’t even have the benefit of Piggy’s presence, as the larger lad was told to go up the mountain and keep the fire going. The anger bubbles in his stomach, leaving him prepared to sit here on this log until Jack finally returns from hunting and Ralph can give him a piece of his mind.
He stews in his thoughts for almost a full minute before a small voice comes echoing from the forest. “Ralph?”
It must be a little'un, spooked by the forest or something of the like. Ralph pushes his frustrations aside, standing and heading into the jungle towards the child’s voice. “Yes? What’s the matter?”
He comes into a small clearing where the tiny lad looks on the brink of tears, splayed out under a fruit tree, knee scratched and bleeding. He sniffs before warbling “I-i tried to get the best fruit, yknow, the stuff at the top! I didn’t mean to– “ Ralph gently shushes him, sympathy far outweighing any lingering annoyance at the interruption.
“It’s alright. Now let me see.” The boy, whom Ralph realizes now is Percival, sits up, gingerly sticking his knee out for Ralph to take a look at. He dutifully inspects it, gently moving it to and fro, before nodding. “It'll be okay. It’s shallow. Just go and wash it off in the water, alright?” Percival nods before shyly asking, “Won’t you kiss it better?”
Ralph groans inwardly. The absolute last thing he needs Jack and his daft followers to think is that he’s some sort of nanny. He’s prepared to deny the request, on the tip of his tongue, when Percival's lip starts to quiver again, and really, who is Ralph to deny him such a small comfort anyway? He leans down, gently pecking the small boy's knee before leaning back up with a small quirk to his lips.
“All better?” He asks, affectionate for the innocent happiness still found in the young boy.
It’s then that Jack comes strolling into the clearing, hunter’s paint smudged with salt and blood, pride leaking from every pore. The taller looks delighted by what he sees, ginger strands muddied to his forehead, made redder somehow with the pig’s blood.
The look in Jack’s eyes is predatory, all smirking satisfaction, and Ralph could kick himself. “Look who it is! You’ve really been stepping up to your role, huh, pretty boy?” Jack laughs cruelly.
Ralph glares up at him, helping Percival to his feet, who waves at Jack with a toothy smile before running off, presumably toward the ocean. “I haven't been stepping up to anything, chief.” He spits, standing and dusting himself off.
Jack grins widely, coming closer. “That’s funny, because I seem to remember you… What was it… kissing it better?” Ralph just groans, earlier frustration returning. “Oh shut up, Merridew. Don’t even try making fun, not as you and all your little followers abandon me to build the shelters and look after the littleun's, which, mind you, means washing them, making sure they play nicely with one another, and keeping them from getting hurt!”
He feels the frustration burning in his chest, now standing only a foot away from Jack, looking angrily up at him as he rants.
“And it's not as if you would know, but since I’m seemingly the only comfort they have, they all kip with me at night. It doesn’t even matter what I say, they’ll do it anyway! And if you haven’t noticed, it gets bloody hot! Especially in the shelters!”
He finishes, panting, deflated, and yet unsatisfied. The cicadas and steady vibration of the forest do little to help the empty silence. Ralph crosses his arms for something to do.
Jack raises an eyebrow, stalking ever closer to Ralph, who, in turn, backs up until he hits the fruit tree Percival had attempted to climb. Jack's blood-rough hands meet the still delicate skin on Ralph’s waist. “What are you doing?” Ralph sputters, trying in vain to wiggle out of the taller’s grip, which only tightens in response. Jack's other hand reaches to clasp Ralph's jaw and cheekbone, his thumb brushing Ralph's lips, who breaks eye contact, humiliated.
“It appears to me like you’ve been feeling neglected. Am I right?” Jack murmurs, voice low, and Ralph is suddenly very aware of the jungle noises, the faint crashing noise of waves on the shore, and the far-off echo of the other hunters on Castle Rock. Brown eyes flicker up to blue, and Ralph attempts, in vain, to hide the flush on his fair cheeks from the taller boy.
“No! It’s just–“ Jack’s grip on his waist tightens bruisingly, thumb rubbing the sensitive skin of his hipbone as if mesmerized. “It’s just annoying! Why should I have to watch the littleun's! Why not Simon? He’s much nicer than I am anyway!” Ralph manages to get out, voice cracking embarrassingly in the middle, distracted by such close contact.
Jack levels him with a look, voice coaxing. “C'mon, you know they like you best. What’s all this really about, anyway?” The pad of his calloused thumb rubs Ralph’s cheekbone, forcing him to meet Jack's eyes.
“I just-“ Ralph swallows, the movement of his throat tracked by piercing blue eyes. “Why does it have to be only me!” It comes out humiliatingly close to a whine.
It’s then that Jack leans in, pausing just before contact as if testing the waters, and when Ralph only presents his neck further, wanting for something he doesn't yet understand, Jack places a hot, open-mouth kiss on the curve of his neck. Ralph’s breath hitches at the feeling of Jack's chapped lips pressed against his pulse, squirming, the bark rough against his back. flickering between frustration and allowance, too much sensation and not enough, heat pooling in Ralph’s abdomen, and he feels flayed open before Jack, greedy and desperate.
Jack briefly pulls away, and Ralph has to bite his displeased noise into his own palm, the taller murmuring in his ear, “That's because you’re the best with them. Simon is too batty to care for them properly, but you, you look after them almost as if you were their mother. You like it, don’t you? Don’t think I haven’t noticed some of them calling you ‘mummy’.” Ralph can almost taste the self-satisfaction in Jack’s voice as he unwittingly lets out a startled whine.
“What? No!” He starts, but Jack tuts, continuing. “You’re so good to them, pretty boy. Besides, you’re the only one of any of us who can properly cook anything. You might as well have raised them yourself.”
Ralph bites his tongue harshly to muffle the embarrassing noise that slips out. It’s then that Jack moves, sudden and violent, pushing both of his thumbs against the hollow of Ralph’s hips, tugging him in for a bruising kiss, iron and dirt, and Ralph has to pretend he hasn’t been craving this the whole time.
There's no pretense of modesty, nothing to compare against, and Jack licks into Ralph’s mouth eagerly. Ralph welcomes the invasion gladly, moving his hips in small, needy circles against the taller’s thigh, placed helpfully flush between his legs. The kiss is sloppy, with little finesse, yet Ralph feels dizzy and breathless, slinging both of his weak arms around Jack's neck.
Jack’s tongue thrusts hot, deep, insistent inside his mouth. It drags a noise from Ralph’s throat, beyond his control, as Jack grips a fistful of his hair, tugging.
It’s messy, and drool is running down Ralph’s chin, yet he can’t get enough, can feel the desperate gasping mewls he’s making get swallowed greedily.
It's too soon that Jack pulls away, wiping at his mouth with a smirk, and Ralph is left gasping for air he forgot he needed, and would likely have crumpled if not for the steady hands still pressing him against the bark.
Ralph feels hot, a constant simmer for more in his abdomen. The shade of the tree canopy does nothing to combat the sheer desperation and desire emanating from both boys, damp forest air thick with it. “Ralph,” Jack starts matter-of-factly, licking flaking blood off his fingers, “you ought to get it wet.”
Ralph can only blink dumbly. “Get what wet?”
Jack just rolls his eyes, and really, he’s such an arse that Ralph wants for nothing more than to walk away then and there, but then Jack starts unbuttoning his tattered choir slacks, placing calloused, steady hands on Ralph's shoulders, and shoving him down onto his knees in the dirt.
Still dazed and panting, Ralph studies Jack’s cock with an unhurried fascination, noting bleakly that it’s not much thicker than his own, but longer in a way that makes him sweat. “And you want me to do what?” He mumbles dubiously, hands gripping Jack's thighs for stability, knees shifting uncomfortably on the uneven ground.
Jack barks out a laugh. “Suck on it. Mind the teeth. If I’m gonna put it in, it needs to be wet. This is for your benefit too, you know.” He grins, tugging on a strand of muddy blonde hair. It clicks in Ralph’s mind that they're going to that today, the thing that the other boys have spent the past few months whispering about to each other.
Ralph himself had only heard snippets-something about one of the boys playing as a girl and letting the other stick something in.
He swallows, gently gripping the hot, velvety flesh. Tentatively, he licks the tip, letting some drool drip onto the length before wetting his mouth and wrapping his lips around it, trying to avoid grazing the length with his teeth. Jack's hand in his hair suddenly clenches painfully as he groans, tugging him fully onto his cock, and Ralph sputters, choking and gagging.
He glares up at Jack, purposefully scraping him with his teeth, who hisses and tightens his grip on Ralph’s blonde locks painfully.
“I said watch the teeth, pretty boy,” he spits, eyes cold. Ralph lowers his eyes, eyelashes catching the light from the canopy of leaves above.
He tries further to lubricate the length, cheeks hot with embarrassment. It feels good, filling his mouth and pressing down on his tongue. The taste is salty-sharp yet somehow not unpleasant, and the feeling of Jack panting underneath him, rendered useless by his tongue, makes Ralph ache with the pleasure of it all.
Jack has his head thrown back as Ralph begins to find a steady rhythm, softening his tongue and jaw further to let Jack slip deeper into his throat.
Their positions would be immediately obvious to anyone who stumbled into the clearing, a fact that makes Ralph’s clasping hand on Jack's thigh shake, and the heat in his stomach pool lower.
Jack pulls him off with a moan, smirking down at Ralph, whose lips are kiss-bitten and red. As the boy gasps for air and wipes off the drool around his chin, Jack grips him by the collar, pulling him up and back against the tree.
He captures Ralph's mouth with his own in another bruising kiss, moving down Ralph’s neck, periodically biting down and sucking bruises into the fair skin.
“See?” Jack murmurs against the sticky sweetness of Ralph’s skin, “You’re even good at sucking cock.” Ralph whimpers at the rough treatment, Jack’s teeth surely breaking skin and leaving blooming patches of red and purple scattered down his neck.
As Jack's hands on Ralph’s quickly bruising hips creep down into his trousers, Ralph bites back a noise, clenching his teeth until he tastes blood.
Jack pulls the tattered material down with ill-concealed impatience, ignoring Ralph’s length to reach around and grope his arse, satisfaction caught in his smile.
“Holding out on me, huh, pretty boy?” He laughs, hitching Ralph’s legs up around his waist easily, and Ralph yelps, glaring at Jack.
“You are such a prat.” The blonde spits, face burning as Jack roughly unbuttons Ralph’s hole-ridden shirt, tossing it aside. Jack's eyes darken, captivated by the newly revealed swathes of smooth, pale abdomen.
His fingers graze Ralph’s prominent ribs–and really, a diet consisting mainly of fruit and the occasional bit of pork doesn’t exactly bode well for proper nutrition–as he thumbs one of Ralph’s nipples, making the boy twitch, much to his chagrin.
Ralph tightens the grip of his thighs around Jack's waist, arms clinging to the taller boy. “You’re not going to drop me, are you?” He frowns. Jack chuckles, hands clinging and greedy in their exploration of the boy’s body. “What, don’t you trust me?”
“Nope.” Ralph snorts, eyes tracing the line of sweat dripping down Jack's throat.
“I won't drop you,” Jack states, bringing his cupped palm up to Ralph’s mouth. “Spit.”
Flustered, Ralph frowns. “What? Why?” Jack just looks at him impatiently. “If you’d rather I didn’t even bother to prepare you–“ and oh, that’s why. Ralph feels stupid for a moment, tentatively working up some saliva and depositing the blood-tinged stuff in Jack's open hand.
“Yuck.” He grimaces, but Jack just holds him closer to the tree, working his free hand under Ralph’s rapidly thickening cock, down to his hole, and circles the rim with one wet finger.
“You can’t just stick your whole thing in there!” Ralph gaped, the sensation making him twitch uncomfortably. “It won’t fit!”
Jack ignores Ralph, pressing a wet finger into the tight heat. “Isn’t it gross, anyway? I mean, that’s where-“ Jack clenches his jaw. “Shut up–” he mutters, working in another finger as he seemingly digs for something inside of Ralph, and then long fingers curl against something, and oh, it feels like he's been electrocuted, the movement sending hot, rolling shivers through his body, and he manages a breathless gasp.
Jack grins, wide like he’s won the lottery. “There we go. Feel better?” And Ralph tries to give him a dirty look, but the bastard crooks his fingers again, causing Ralph to make a rather embarrassing noise, pushing his face into Jack's neck in an effort to muffle the whines and gasps.
Before he knows it, Ralph has three fingers inside of him, stretching him open in a way that would be uncomfortable if not for Jack's repeated rubbing of that spot, the one that sends deep aches of pleasure through his body.
“Cmon,” Ralph starts, embarrassed and stuttering, “can you just-“ he squirms uncomfortably at the slick squelch of Jack's fingers.
“Just what?” The boy says, tone innocent and light as anything.
“Jack!” Ralph whines, needy and aching for release, this new want unfamiliar. And Jack looks like the cat that ate the canary, pulling his fingers out in one slick movement. The emptiness is jarring and unpleasant in its suddenness. “Tell me what you need,” Jack says coolly.
It’s reflexive, and Ralph knows exactly what he needs the moment Jack asks. “You–” a huff, blonde hair tucked behind Ralph’s ear with a careful touch. “I need your–your cock, alright? Is that what you want to hear?” he cut himself off with the whining demand.
And then Ralph jerks, overwhelmed with the rush of tingling pressure that floods him as Jack rubs the pad of his thumb over his hole, pressing down, sliding through the glide of the saliva.
Jack chuckles slowly. “You know, I think I like you much better like this.” His eyes are dark as he spits into his palm, strokes his cock once, then guides the blunt head along the crease of Ralph’s arse, pressing it insistently up against his hole. It begins to breach, steadily pushing into him, sending his pulse into his throat.
“Push down against me.” Jack’s murmur is gratifyingly shaky, low, and hot against the skin of Ralph’s neck.
Ralph does, inch by incomprehensible inch. Despite the discomfort, he presses his shaky hips down against Jack’s cock, attempting to take the whole length of him.
It's uncomfortable, all too much sensation at once, yet there's something there, a deep ache hidden beneath the smarting pain–a budding pleasure that Ralph finds himself chasing, grinding deeper and deeper.
This time, when Ralph presses down, Jack thrusts up, rough and unbidden. And then it happens again, and again, and they're in a rhythm, Ralph's back surely bleeding by now, scraped to pieces by the tree, Jack’s thrusts building toward something steadier.
The rhythm is repetitive, grounding, the snap of Jack’s hips against Ralph’s arse. In the breaths between thrusts, Ralph’s hips held firm against the trunk of the fruit tree, Jack leans down to murmur in his ear, voice almost a gasp, hollow and rough.
“You want me to give you another one? Another little mouth to feed?” another bruising snap, another hit of that spot inside of Ralph that makes his mind go blank, “You know you like it,” Jack groans, “taking care of em’, being–god–mine.”
"Mmnh," Ralph manages against Jack’s neck, breathing hard. Jack is hitting that mind-breaking point within him during every thrust, Ralph’s nails dug into the firm, painted skin of the other boy’s back, desperate noises punched out of him.
“Yes–” he gasps, breathless and mortified, shame long since brushed aside, “Please, Jack, please give me–” a half whimper, half exhale, “your–your babies, please.”
“God–” Jack groans at Ralph’s words, managing a final harsh bite at his throat, hips snapping up into him sloppily again, again, again–
Ralph comes with a cry, clenching down on Jack’s length, who in turn pulls him flush against his hips, grinding deep, and Ralph feels a flood of warmth as Jack’s cock pulses–enough to make his own give another weak surge of cum against the taller’s stomach, adding to the mess.
The aftershocks make him shudder, gripping at Jack’s neck, eyes squeezing shut. They stay joined like that, pressed close together, breaths evening. Jack’s grip falters slightly, and Ralph feels Jack lower them both to the ground shakily–still tethered.
He feels Jack nose at the hollow of his throat, pressing a lingering, surprisingly gentle kiss there as he lifts Ralph’s hips and pulls out slowly, grimacing at the oversensitivity.
Ralph feels odd, empty as Jack’s length slips out, muscles both weak and jittery. Jack gets to his feet, helping him up. As Ralph stands on shaky legs, a little bit of come dribbles down his thigh. “Gross,” he frowns.
Jack chuckles. He's handsome, sharp features softened by the glow of the afternoon sun, and as he pulls his choir pants up lazily, Ralph can't help but stare.
The euphoria fades quickly. “I’m not–” he starts, hurriedly fixing his pants, wiping at the steady drip of come on the inner bit of his thigh. “That won’t actually put a baby in me, will it? I can't believe you did it inside!” his voice turns up at the end, slightly hysterical.
Jack scoffs, eyes cold and piercing and blue, no longer warm and close. “Come off it. You'll only end up with a stomach ache, don't be stupid.”
Ralph bristles. “You absolute prat! Why didn't you say anything?”
Jack rolls his eyes. “Better than being pregnant, isn't it? Now quit complaining and go back to the littleun's.” There's a spark of humour in his expression now, like he's fighting a grin. “Perhaps you’d better wash off and sort yourself out first, though,” he motions to Ralph's neck.
Incredulous, Ralph glances down and catches the tail end of quite a few purple and red bruises–ones that bloom from his neck, down his throat, and as far down as his nipples.
He makes a shocked, choking noise, but before Ralph can confront the taller, they both hear an echo in the distance, somebody shouting for Jack up on Castle Rock.
Jack gives a last, lingering look at Ralph, appreciatively eyeing his mussed hair and soiled clothes. “Suppose I'll see you later then, pretty boy.” At the furrow of Ralph's brow, he winks and runs off into the greenery.
“What an arse.” Ralph manages, bewildered and legs admittedly still shaking like a newborn foal. He collects his shirt, resigning himself to the fate of washing himself off in the most secluded part of the stream that he can find.
As he begins to hobble and limp in the direction of water, he hears his name being called excitedly by a few littleun’s and sighs, cursing Jack.