This is a Lost fan-fiction story. The rights to these characters belong to and are copyright protected by J.J. Abrams and Damon Lindelof and I am using them without permission. Please send feedback to kgberrywriting@hotmail.co.uk , it would be very much appreciated!
Now, please sit back and enjoy...
Charlie's Secret Heartache pt4
Jack's Past
The bar was beginning to empty, and Jack had been drinking for a few hours already. He was pretty far under, and was declaring to anyone who would listen, in a loud voice, that all women were bitches and who needed them anyway?
"Divorce?" a man asked, after another of Jack's outbursts. His accent was not quite place-able by Jack, but it sounded European.
"Yeah," the drunken doctor replied. He had no surgery the following day, as he was given leave for the legal battle, and was taking the opportunity to drink all he could. Looking up at the speaker, he saw a handsome (drunken) face, a little younger than himself, with a bald head and a bulky frame.
"You know, men don't need women, and women don't need men. We can get along fine by ourselves!" The other man was also, obviously, incredibly drunk.
"You're damn right... erm... wassyur name?"
"Rick."
"Rick I am Jack, and you are a genius." Jack waved his glass emphatically as he pointed to the deliverer of the words that rung so true to Jack.
"I'll tell you something, Jack. You come round to my place and I'll prove to you that women do not need men in any way."
"I don't need proof," Jack replied, bitterly.
"I want to give you proof, you fuckin' woman!"
"I'm not a woman!"
"Then come with me."
"Aaaaaall right. I'll go with you."
Rick made a slurred phone call to a taxi company and the two drunken men arrived at his apartment. He switched on a lamp to reveal a decent-sized, smartly decorated living room; Jack sat down and watched Rick go to a shelf, pull out a video and put it into his video player. After he pushed play, Rick pointed at the screen grandly and announced, "That is why women do not need men!"
Jack, sitting back on the sofa, began to get extremely aroused. His clean, dark blue jeans began to fill with expanding man-meat at the vision on the screen. Two women, blondes with huge breasts, were wrapped around each other, kissing and undoing each other's bra straps, stroking their soft, smooth thighs and breathing airy sighs of pleasure and lust. Jack began to gently, but rapidly, squeeze and unsqueeze his legs to excite himself, squeezing his ball sack inside his boxers, rubbing the sensitive head against his jeans.
Rick sat by Jack on the black leather sofa. He sat with his knees wide apart, openly rubbing his dick through his black trousers; it was smaller than Jack's, though clearly visible and very hard through the fabric. Triumphantly unzipping and pulling out a 7-inch cock with a small, red head, he began to masturbate enthusiastically, telling Jack, "And this is why men do not need women." His dick was pierced with a thick bar through the frenum.
"You got that right," he replied, glancing down at the penis, while feeling his own. He got a weird kind of pleasure looking at it, realizing he hardly knew the stranger he was jerking off with.
Encouraged and aroused by Rick's openness, Jack turned back and watched the porn film intently while undoing his trousers and boxers. He released his penis and pumped away as the women began to steadily finger one another, feeling, touching, squeezing their breasts; they licked and tasted each other's wet pussies and moaned divine fake orgasms. Rick occasionally mumbled words like "slags" and "whores" while pleasuring himself over their dirtiness, looking hungrily at Jack jerking away at regular intervals.
Rick removed his shirt and trousers, and was sitting in a pair of blue boxer-briefs, working with his dick sticking out of the top. Jack too removed his blue shirt and jeans, leaving only his white boxers, manhood leaving through the fly. His other hand stroked his body - chest, thighs and neck.
The film finished, and since the video had not started from the beginning, neither man had come. The screen went black, darkening the room with it. The whirring sound of the auto-rewind on the tape started, and Jack turned to face Rick in the lamplight, waiting for some kind of sign as to what would happen next, eyes flicking from his face to the metal in his prick and back.
Rick had an odd look in his eye. Hastily, he removed his underwear completely, casting it across the floor. Then he climbed on top of Jack, who was beginning to feel more sober, and breathed an intoxicated message into his ear: "We don't need them." He could feel the European's dick piercing rub into his stomach hair as he received a passionate, loveless kiss on his mouth which he reluctantly accepted, and then returned.
The feeling was unexpected, and Jack returned a look of shock and fear into Rick's eyes. They were filled with the pleasures of lust. His penis ground into Jack's body as they kissed again. The muscles in Jack's body were tight with fear.
"You gonna do what I say?" Rick asked.
"Yes," was all Jack could muster as a reply. Jack could not have denied him. His body was hungry and lust was coursing like poison through his veins, calling for his throbbing penis to be satisfied.
"Stand up."
Jack stood, his figure filling the room.
"Turn around, and take off your underwear."
The glory of Jack's tight, muscular buttocks shone in Rick's direction in the lamp light.
"Face me."
Well-kept pubic hair, neatly shaven and freshly trimmed. A hairy torso and firm legs. Low balls and a pulsing, eight inch dick. Arms muscled but, as yet, free of tattoos.
"Kneel down on one knee, and show me your real muscles."
Jack obliged. His muscles were large, though nothing like a pro-weight lifter or wrestler's, and smooth. They bulged and grew as he showed off the fruits of his training work to his appreciative audience. He kept a brave straight face on, even though he secretly feared being buggered by this man. Manly haired pecs, biceps and rippled abs displayed themselves for Rick.
"Very nice, Jack, very sexy..." He appraised his body, and muttered a foreign word under his breath. "Come here," he said, stroking a spot on the leather couch beside him.
Jack sat. His penis longed to be relieved of its tensions; but half of his head didn't want sex with this man, was repulsed and disgusted at the idea of sex with men full stop, let alone a stranger he met in a pub and knew for less than ten minutes. Yet the other half of his head longed for it, expected it even demanded it. "What now?" he asked, leaving the ball in Rick's court.
"Lay back."
And he did so, feeling the cold leather along his back. Looking along his torso, past his bulging gear, he could see Rick's erection glistening, the bar chunky through the flesh. His legs, one at a time, were lifted onto Rick's shoulders. Hands stroked his thighs, the rough hairs rumpled then smoothed. He felt his fingers, wet with lube, glide into his sphincter and run back and forth. The buggery was coming, and though Jack feared it, he lusted for it. This was something Sarah could never give him, but he had given her aplenty, which just made his not needing her even more true.
"Jack, I want your beautiful body for my own..." he crooned, a rough and exotic voice.
All the while, Jack tugged and stroked on his ball sack, feeling the smooth, fresh-shaved skin under his fingers. The roughness of his fingers traveled up to the shaft with which he teased himself, moving it in tiny amounts up and down.
Now Rick had slid as many fingers as he could manage into Jack, he rolled on a condom. Leaving no word of warning, no further foreplay, he shoved his entire cock into Jack's ass in one go, quickly pulling back and pushing forwards. Jack grunted and moaned, feeling a familiar sick feeling of pain and pleasure, crying "No! No!"
"Yes! Yes you fucking man-slut!" Rick cried back at him. "You're gonna take my man meat! I own you now, boy!"
His pace was exceptionally fast, and too much for Jack to bear. Tears were begging to crawl down his face, but he kept his tears in. Gradually, his pain transformed into groans of pleasure.
"Take that you gay whore!" Rick shouted. "You like it now, huh?! Think you need a woman?"
"No, I don't need a... agh... a woman!"
"You want my fucking cock now - say it!"
"I need your cock now, Rick."
"My FUCKING cock!"
"I need your fucking -" Rick plunged deep into Jack's ass. "Argh, argh! Your f-" His meat was sliding hard and fast, deep into Jack's insides. "Mmhrm - I need your fucking cock, Rick!"
"You piece of... argh... cheap..." Spunk fired into Jack's ass as he received the blows of the orgasm, encased in the rubber. More foreign words leaked out as his orgasm died away.
He pulled out. Before Jack knew it, Rick's bald head was down, eating his meat, his whole shaft swallowed instantly and without a problem or breath. Sucking hard and slurping, Jack felt the wet enclosures of his mouth bring him to climax fast, and he grunted his closed-eyed ecstasy to the beautiful foreigner.
"Rick..." Jack moaned, running his hands over his smooth, bald head.
He made no response except to suck harder and faster.
"Ah... arrh..." He tried to find a way to tell Rick that he could feel a pleasure beyond all he had known in his life, and that he had feared sex with men before Rick had opened this new world to him in his adult life. He wanted to find a way to tell Rick that he was close, so close to firing his load in to his beautiful throat, and to tell him that he didn't need women any more because this man love was more than he could ever need. But his head was filled with a light fog, with bliss and the focused pleasures of lust, his breathing grew heavy and hoarse, and all Jack could say was, "Fuck."
Rick grunted a gagged cry of pleasure into Jack's crotch, and a hand stroked Jack's thigh. Jack was bucking into him, and soon enough...
"Fuck... fuuuck..."
His hands pushed Rick's head into him, and he felt the fog in his head thicken, and then, fluid, escape his body through his giant breaths; liquidized lust flowed from him, and Jack's satisfied appetite shot from his body, being swallowed by the European stranger, whose eyes were open, looking at his face in its glorious orgasm.
The two sat panting, apart once again. "You look beautiful when you come, Jack. You ever been fucked like that before?"
Jack felt shy. He had never told this to anyone before, but he was still affected by the drink and the sex experience he just had was clogging his brain. Quietly, he said, "My Dad used to..."
"I'm sorry," Rick replied, stroking Jack. He cupped his balls and kissed his face.
"It was a long time ago. I don't talk about it." Jack stood up. In silence, he picked up his boxers, slipping them up over his softened penis, his neat pubes. Quietly, he pulled on his jeans and did up the zip, put on his socks and shoes.
The awkwardness left Rick speechless; he somehow couldn't remember what he would have normally said after sex like that. Normally, they don't just admit their father used to abuse them. Jack left the apartment without saying a word more to Rick.
On the street on the way home, bathed in the fake orange light, he thought back to when he was twelve. His father would come into his room, climb into his bed, and Jack would pretend to be asleep. Then the feeling of his father's naked penis, rubbing his back through his T-shirt. His strong hands removing his briefs. Then the fingers went in. The wrong feelings of pleasure, the way he liked it. The feeling of fear that his Dad would be angry if he knew he took it that way. The silent submission to his father's demands, the unvoiced pain at the penetration, just like with Rick. But with Rick it was Jack's choice, and with Rick it was allowed. Then, it wasn't secretive and shameful, it was open and willing.
And now, as he walked, he wondered, what was he doing with Sarah? He stole his virginity, and now he was stealing his wife.
Jack got home. Sarah wasn't there. He stripped naked, and got into bed. Those days were long gone, he reminded himself as he lay under the covers. As he gently caressed himself, his butt cheeks and his slightly sore hole, he realised he no longer feared his Dad. If he wanted to, he could be the one doing the abusing now. But despite what Rick had said, and what they'd done, he still needed Sarah. He still desperately needed Sarah.
Charlie Pace was a cautious 15-year-old. He was always shy in the shower room after sports, even though he wasn't a bad footballer, and was average downstairs'. He had another reason; he was afraid that his other self would emerge. He was afraid that the presence of naked male bodies and the feeling of being naked with them would make him sexually aroused: he couldn't help it. It had happened before - he was lucky to have been able to hide it, time after time, and be saved from the humiliation of being known as a batty boy' for the rest of his foreseeable future.
A cursory glance at the body of his friend Alex Hughes, even in his sports briefs, had already made him semi-hard. Alex was advanced in puberty for his age; he shaved fairly regularly, had well-developed muscles and a lot more hair than most other people in the changing room, on his arms, under his arms, on his face, stomach and especially his groin. He wasn't what you'd call beautiful, but he had a certain level of handsomeness. Charlie thought he was beautiful though - he liked Alex's deep voice and innate manliness. He bit his lip, shook his head and forced his mind out of these alien thoughts. He wasn't gay. He definitely wasn't gay. Bravely, he removed his grey boxers and showered quickly. Silently, he got dried and dressed and somehow, miraculously, managed to hide his erect penis once again.
They walked home together after school since both lived in the same end of town. They were good friends, and frequently slept over at each others' houses; the conversation usually went something along these lines:
"You want to come over to mine this Friday?"
"Yeah if you want. Bring - " whatever video game it was they were obsessed with at the time.
"Cool, I'll see you then."
So it had been earlier that week. Charlie invited Alex over to sleep at his house, with a clutch of a feeling in his stomach he desperately tried to ignore. Why did he feel this way? It wasn't right. This was how he felt about Rachel before, and Jenny before her... a significant list of girls, actually. Alex definitely should not be on that list. That feeling was for girls.
Friday came, and Alex set up camp in Charlie's room. As per usual, they plugged in Charlie's Nintendo and began a two-player fighting game; they watched comedy shows that Charlie's mum wouldn't have approved of; then they got undressed and lay down to sleep with the light off.
Once again, Charlie was impressed by Alex as they undressed. His body seemed to get constantly bigger, and Charlie couldn't help but look at Alex's body hair, his large brown nipples, and his groin, pressing against his tight grey boxer shorts. His own dick began to stir, and Charlie's face got extremely red as he stood in his own blue briefs, quickly turning off the light and sliding into his bed.
"You alright mate?" Alex asked. They always talked after the light was off.
"Yeah I suppose, why?"
"You looked kinda nervous there."
"Oh. Well I'm fine."
"No you're not. You've been acting weird all week. What's up?"
"It's nothing! I'm not acting weird." Charlie was frightened - Alex had noticed. That was not good.
"Come on..."
Alex got out of bed and switched on the light. His body was tanned, and very developed for a fifteen-year-old's. All that shrouded him were those boxer shorts, and at seeing him standing in his own bedroom, Charlie began to feel aroused, and this in turn led to sadness.
"It's nothing Alex," he lied, and turned on his side.
"Hey, come on man," Alex returned. He walked up to Charlie, and left his soft crotch at head height, causing Charlie to turn away. His hand stroked Charlie's bare skin in his bed, and Charlie's dick stood up to its full six inches. He sat up in bed. His body was normal for a guy his age, with a look of having grown a lot quite quickly, but with a certain healthiness to it that wasn't found in most teenagers.
"I can't tell you," he said. His face looked down, and he refused to make eye contact with Charlie.
Alex wrapped his arm around Charlie's shoulders, and he sat on Charlie's bed. Charlie blushed.
"You can tell me. You can tell me anything Charlie."
The way Alex was sat revealed a partially hard penis in his boxers. He still did not have the guts to say anything to Alex.
"I... I like someone. Someone..." He breathed. Well? He had started, and couldn't finish there. "I can't tell you, because you'll think I'm..." He tailed off pathetically. Alex knew he could cover more ground if he tried, but then he had a better idea.
"You know what I find is the best solution to a liking someone problem?" Alex asked brightly.
"What?"
"Jackin' off." He said, relishing the taboo word. He took his arms away from Charlie, who looked at him in disbelief.
"I'm Catholic, man, you know I don't do that..." he said feebly. He had been trying to give up masturbating for a long time and failed miserably.
"Oh come on, Charlie. I've caught you at it before!" Alex stood up. His penis was already growing in a state of teenage arousal.
"Oh yeah... alright then." Charlie said.
"All you gotta do," Alex said, lying down on his sleeping bag, "is imagine rubbing your cock up and down that person's body..." He had begun stroking himself. He gently pushed his hips up into his hand as he went. Alex had hinted at this kind of thing before in front of Charlie, and had even shown him his erection, but had never touched or excited himself like this before at one of their sleepovers.
Charlie was no fool. He noticed the ambivalent language Alex had used. But he ignored it, and lay back on his bed, and touched himself through his boxers. He imagined himself rubbing his crotch against Alex's muscled, far superior body, running his hands through his soft black hair.
"Now imagine that person naked, lying down, and kissing them all the way up their legs, to their sweet spot..."
Charlie could hear Alex going at his cock under his boxers. But then he boldly removed them, and wanked freely to the air.
"Fuck it," Charlie said. He removed his boxers too, and sat up, masturbating furiously and looking at Alex, who was looking back. His penis looked huge to Charlie, although it was not much bigger than his own in length, only a lot fatter and very veiny. He imagined himself kissing those muscled thighs, licking the testicles and kissing the glans.
Charlie absorbed the sight of his naked friend, masturbating in his presence, and went all the harder at his own, his face adopting a determined look. But, as always, Alex took the boldest step. He walked over to Charlie's bed, put his left arm over Charlie's back, and slowly worked at Charlie's cock with his right hand. He had never been touched by another boy before, and it was a welcome and reassuring feeling.
"Alex, that feels..." Charlie began, but words failed him. Instead, he moved too, and he pleasured Alex, working at the same pace. The flesh felt strange and new in his hands, hard yet soft, and very warm.
"I know," Alex returned to him. The two sat in silence, each listening to the other's breath, soon picking up a fast pace as they masturbated, sharing the other's feelings. Alex pushed and dropped his hips to Charlie's handling, and Charlie - realizing this must be the way to do it - bucked and dropped his hips also.
Much to Charlie's surprise, it was Alex who came first. He said in a quiet, stifled voice, "Shit Charlie you making me come, you're... oh Christ..." Three short lines of semen burst forth from the head of Alex's cock onto his hairy stomach.
Alex worked all the more furiously at Charlie as he came. Soon Charlie broke the silence again, the large hand on his penis relentlessly pumping, murmuring, "Alex, I'm gonna have, you're making me come, I mean..." and he was ejaculating himself, the semen splashing onto his chest, releasing the pressure from his scrotum.
Alex released the grip on his penis. "Feel better?" he asked.
Charlie grinned, the same grin he always had, and always will have. "I think I do," he said. He pulled a tissue box from next to his bed, and the two teenagers cleared themselves up.
Exhausted, they drifted into an easy sleep. Neither mentioned the experience to the other, but it was not the last time they would enjoy each other's help.
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