Archive of Our Own

Timmy slunk down the hall with his head low, keeping his eyes just high enough to warn him of anyone approaching. There weren’t many people around - this particular residential block of Helios was mostly deserted, awaiting the expected influx of employees to fill its apartments - but he still took precautions to avoid being seen by anyone, tracking the side corridors he passed as he walked, constantly judging how long it would take him to duck into one and hide.

He’d been lying low for weeks, ever since their rather dramatic return from the Eleseer. Jack had staggered out of the fast travel, blood drizzling from his ruined face and spattering on the floor, and immediately starting shouting a mix of orders and obscenities. His mouth had been twisted into a mad grin, teeth bright against the blood on his lips, and when a team of Hyperion doctors swept in and hustled him away Timmy ducked into the shadows and ran. Only Athena saw him go, but she’d made no move to follow.

He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he’d found a secluded corner and cried, shaking with fear and panic, for over an hour. He was tougher now than he’d ever been, but things like that dug in deep and stayed with you no matter how hardened you were.

He’d seen or heard no sign of Jack since his return, except for the occasional announcement over the PA system. The messages were generic, likely recorded long before what happened in the Vault, but even free of the hellfire and ruin that had colored Jack’s voice as he sat in his makeshift throne they gave Timmy chills.

His former teammates were more visible, but he stayed well out of their way. He’d seen Wilhelm a handful of times, at a distance, greeting the arrival of a platoon of Hyperion troops or hanging around the entrance to Jack’s office, looking bored. It seemed that he’d gained a few new upgrades since their return, metal replacing joints and limbs bit by bit, chrome and steel catching the persistent artificial sunlight of Helios.

Nisha, too, was present, swaggering around like she owned the place, giving orders to the Hyperion employees left in the wake of the Lost Legion raids. Those who were foolish enough to not listen felt the bite of her whip, and Timmy gave her a wide berth as she established her authority.

Of the Claptrap unit, there had been no sign, but seeing as Timmy avoided the robots and their incessant yammering as much as possible, this wasn’t much of a surprise. They all looked more or less the same to him, too - and frankly, he didn’t care what had happened to the little trash can. Good riddance, as far as he was concerned.

Aurelia had actually tracked him down, showing up at the door of the apartment he was squatting in - it was easy to forget that she was actually an apt hunter-tracker until she pulled stunts like that. She’d wandered in, called his place “squalid” in her infuriatingly posh accent, and told him she was leaving. “Now that the fun’s over, there’s really no reason to stay,” she’d said. “Unfortunately for me, Jack is...hm, unavailable to negotiate the closure of my contract, and I don’t have the time to waste waiting for him. Bigger and badder things to shoot, you know.” She’d smirked, and extended her hand. “And since you’re the next best thing to Jack around, I hope you’ll accept my best wishes on the termination of our working relationship on his behalf.”

Timmy had taken her hand. She’d given two firm shakes and released him. “Ta-ta, then, darling,” she’d said, and was gone. He wasn’t sad to see her go.

Though he’d looked for her, Athena was nowhere to be found. She was either hiding, like him, or had left Helios entirely. Hopefully she was far, far away from here, and doing okay.

Though he wished he could leave, Timmy knew he had no choice but to stay on Helios. If he tried to run, to openly break his contract with Jack, then he’d have the full force of Hyperion hunting him down the second the man himself found out. Even if he did somehow manage to escape unnoticed, Elpis was swarming with people who would love to see Jack - or anyone who looked like the Jack they knew - dead. And since rumor had it that Lilith, Roland, and Moxxi had returned to Pandora, he probably wouldn’t be welcome there either.

The rumor mill was buzzing with all kinds of information these days. Timmy had seen and heard bits and pieces of gossip, shared amongst the Hyperion employees through word of mouth and Echonet posts. The hot topic was that Chairman Tassiter himself was on a ship bound for Helios, here to take a firsthand account of what had transpired out of someone’s skin - and that someone was probably Jack. Tassiter obviously wasn’t aware of what kind of man Jack had become, and Timmy did not want to be anywhere near either of them when that interaction went down.

He came to a crossroads and paused. Left would take him down to the shopping district, where he’d be able to pick up something to eat from one of the automated fast-food stands. Right would lead to some of the recreational areas of Helios, like the library. Straight would take him into another residential block, row after featureless row of low-end apartments much like the one he’d been squatting in.

He was hungry, but his Echo informed him that it was almost noon Helios time, and the shopping district was likely to be crawling with employees on their lunch break. He couldn’t afford to be seen, and have word of his possible location getting back to Jack. The library it was, then - he could hide out, read a book or two, and take the back way to the shopping center later to raid the restaurant storage rooms.

He headed to the right, booted feet almost silent on the red carpet. Since this block was deserted, it wasn’t on the priority list for redecoration. Helios was slowly being transformed, moving from the classic Hyperion red and black to the brighter yellow and white that Jack preferred. Tassiter was already furious, but he was going to go nuclear when he saw what Jack had done to the space station.

Timmy scratched an itch at the corner of his jaw as he walked, feeling the hairline scars there that were invisible to the naked eye. He didn’t like this face - would do anything to be rid of it, in fact - but what had happened to Jack’s was far, far worse. He was still the Doppelganger, still Jack’s living double, and if he couldn’t find a way out it would only be a matter of time before they hunted him down and worked him over to match.

He heard a jangle behind him and spun on his heel, barely avoiding tripping over his own feet, but there was no one there. Heart hammering, he turned back around to find himself face to face with Nisha, a cheshire grin stretching her glossy lips.

Timmy yelped and stumbled backwards, reaching out for the wall to catch his balance. Nisha sashayed towards him, the holsters at her hips shifting as she moved. She’d taken to wearing her revolvers out in the open, glints of Jakobs gold flashing almost as bright as her eyes beneath the brim of her hat. Paired with the whip that was perpetually bound to her belt, coiled and ready, she looked exactly as dangerous as she was.

Those golden irises pinned him down. “Hey, partner,” she smirked. “Haven’t seen much of you around. Been up to anything fun?” Her voice was low, halfway between sultry and deadly, and Timmy swallowed, straightening up as much as he could beneath the weight of her presence.

“Uh, not much. Just, y’know...stuff.”

“Hmm.” She kept moving forward, forcing him to back away. “Shame. We’ve been doing so many interesting things, and you’ve missed out on all of it.”

Timmy stumbled on his next step back, and she advanced two, eyes never leaving his. “W-well,” he stammered, not even trying to put on his false-bravado Jack voice in front her, “I’m sure you’ve been having a really good time, and all, but as I’m sure you’re aware, you and I have, um, slightly different definitions of ‘interesting’ -”

“You should join us sometime.”

“Uh, who exactly do you mean by ‘us’?” He continued to back away, hands out and placating in front of him. “Not-” His next step bumped him into something warm and solid, and he nearly jumped clean out of his skin.

He looked back over his shoulder. “Oh. You do.”

It wasn’t like looking in a mirror anymore. He hadn’t expected it to be, of course - there was only so much modern medicine could do for a wound of that severity, and he had been expecting a scar, some indelible sign of what had transpired. But Jack’s face was umblemished, the skin smooth and fair, and Timmy pulled away to get a better look.

It was a mask, he realized, the skinlike surface a few shades paler than the natural skin that showed at Jack’s neck and forehead. The silver clips at his temples and chin glinted as he smiled, mask wrinkling oddly at the corners of his mouth. “Miss me, kiddo?”

All Timmy felt was relief. He’d been expecting something worse, much worse - something that would involve wounds and pain and irreparable, prominent damage. But a mask...he could handle a mask. Unless Jack decided that the face beneath the mask needed to match as well.

He swallowed that thought as Jack leaned in close - he hadn’t realized it, but in his hurry to take in Jack’s new visage Timmy had put his back against the wall. He shrank down, giving Jack the height advantage, and put on his most submissive expression. He was better than ever at playing Jack, at putting on the swagger and the charm, but nine times out of ten he couldn’t help but cower before the real thing.

“Hey- hi, Jack,” he stammered. “How did you, um…” He flickered his eyes to Nisha, who was standing with her arms crossed, wearing an unbearably smug expression.

“Find you?” Jack pulled back, giving him a little breathing room. “You really think I didn’t know where you were this whole time?” He shook his head. “I’ve got my ways of keeping an eye on you, John.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Timmy saw Nisha’s eyebrows arch; something Jack said had taken her by surprise. “Ha. Oh.” Timmy winced. “I like the new...face,” he added lamely, gesturing vaguely in Jack’s general direction. The man preened, grinning and stroking his chin.

“Yeah, it’s pretty sweet, isn’t it? Docs put it together as a patch job, but I think I’m gonna keep it. Says something...powerful.”

“Yep, it- it sure does.” Timmy peeled away from the wall, looking for an opportunity to bolt.

“Fit’s a little off,” Jack mused, fiddling with the chin clip, “but I think it just needs some breaking in.”

Timmy eyed the gap between Jack and Nisha. “Well, I’m uh, gonna go,” he said, “got some...things to take care of. You know where to find me, uh, somehow. Obviously.” He’d barely started moving when Nisha stepped in close, crowding him. He tried to move in the other direction but Jack braced his hand against the wall by Timmy’s head, blocking him in.

“Don’t go,” Nisha purred. “We just wanna spend a little time with you.”

“Yeah,” Jack concurred. “When I asked if you missed me, I was serious. You’ve gotta be lonely, hanging around here all by yourself.”

Timmy felt a spark of anger. The hungry expression on Jack’s new face was all too familiar, and he was tired of it. So many times he’d given in to it, each time letting the part of him that wanted it win, but submission was always painful. Jack had caged him in on all sides, pitting his need to be needed against his fear of death against his hatred for all the things Jack had done and continued to do to him. And every single time, he was left revolted and comforted and sick and confused.

But these past weeks alone - even with having to stay hidden, stay alert, stay fearful, he’d finally had a chance to be himself again. For the first time in months, amidst the bloodshed and the aliens and the bullshit, he’d gotten a chance to be Timothy Lawrence again. Timothy Lawrence, who liked classic literature and going to bed early and actually really, really hated the color yellow. Timothy Lawrence, who was a person in his own right, not the ghost of a corporate tyrant king with an ego too big for his body and a mind gone totally mad.

Timmy looked at Jack, at the face that his was no longer a mirror of. He wasn’t Jack, and if he wasn’t Jack then he didn’t need the real thing to validate him anymore.

“No, actually,” he said. “I’ve been fine.”

Jack looked taken aback - but it was hard to tell for sure, the mask contorting in odd places as the face beneath it shifted. “Why don’t we talk this over in private,” he growled, and before Timmy could react they were on him, shuffling him over towards the nearest door. Jack reached up, and did something to the card reader so that it beeped an odd little sequence of tones. The door slid open, and Nisha shoved Timmy through. He stumbled, but kept his feet, glaring as she prowled in after him. Jack followed at her heels, and the door slid shut.

There was anger in his mismatched eyes, and when he turned to mess with the door controls Timmy took the opportunity to look around the room. It was a studio apartment, fully furnished, identical to the one he’d been crashing in - the card reader on his was broken, which is how he’d managed to gain access. It was dim, the overhead lights tuned to a low brightness, and Nisha’s eyes were lost in the shadow of her hat.

When Jack turned back to face him, he was composed again, a crooked, cocky grin splitting his face. “John,” he said, spreading his hands, “you know the deal, right? And you know that it’s much simpler if you just go along with the plan.” His voice was genial, not a hint of bite, but Timmy knew his game far too well.

He looked at Nisha. “It’s not in my contract,” he said. “ She’s not in my contract. Really, this whole... deal was never in my contract. I’ve got no binding obligation to go along with it.”

“Ah,” Jack said, tone still light, “but what is in your contract is that you have to act like me - which means doing whatever I’d do. And let’s be real, I’d do me-” he laughed, and wrapped an arm around Nisha’s shoulders- “and I have been doing her.”

Nisha gave him a look, and brushed his hand off her shoulder. Jack simply shrugged, never taking his eyes off of Timmy. “It’s just a bit of fun, kiddo,” he said.

“Sure. Fun, real fun.” Timmy knew he was being stupid, knew that fighting Jack was probably the most ridiculous, idiotic, foolhardy thing that anyone had ever done in the history of ever . But his blood was up as high as it had ever gotten, and just this once he wanted Jack to lose. “Your idea of fun doesn’t seem to take the opinions of the other involved parties into account.”

The low light glinted off a half-dozen places on Jack’s face - eyes, teeth, clips - beacons warning against exactly the kind of thing Timmy was doing. “Well, I think it’s fun,” he said, and the warning was in his voice, too, a dark overlay that had Timmy holding his ground against a sudden chill.

“And I can’t say for sure,” Nisha chimed in, “but from what I’ve heard…” She grinned, her fingertips tracing the coils of her whip. “I’m sure I’d have plenty of fun.”

Jack lowered his eyelids, cocked his head. “Two to one. You’re outnumbered.”

“That’s not how this works,” Timmy snapped, strained, “and you know that.”

Nisha prowled towards him, but Timmy held his ground this time, taking his eyes off Jack to watch her approach. “Come on, honey,” she purred, “just work with us. You’re not being a very good team player.”

“I - I’m not being a team player!?” Timmy was baffled. “ You’re the one who’s not a team player, both of you, only ever thinking abou-” Nisha drew her gun, hand moving faster than his eyes could track, and cut off his outburst by shoving the barrel into his mouth.

“Mouthy, aren’t we.” Timmy glared at her, and when he bared his teeth around the cold steel in his mouth she simply shoved it in further. It clicked painfully against his teeth and he winced, trying to flinch away. Her golden eyes were cold and calculating, but there was a hint of mirth in the crooked tilt of her brows.

“Don’t chip his teeth,” Jack said, possessive, leaning in close.

“He’ll be fine as long as he behaves himself.” She twisted her wrist to press the end of the barrel against the back of Timmy’s tongue and he gagged, stepping backwards. Nisha followed, Jack at her shoulder, as Timmy continued to back away until he bumped up against the wall behind him, well and truly trapped.

Nisha let up on the gun a little bit, but still left it in Timmy’s mouth. He was starting to drool around the barrel, the bitter taste of gunpowder making him sick. Knowing Nisha, the gun was probably loaded, and he couldn’t see if her finger was on the trigger or not. He closed his eyes, feeling fear grip his throat as his resolve wavered, realizing that there was no way he could have ever won this fight.

“Better,” he heard her say, followed by a shuffling noise and low laugh. The gun shifted in his mouth, and he squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

“You’ve scared the kid shitless,” Jack said.

Timmy could practically feel Nisha roll her eyes. “What, and you don’t?”

“Well, I’ve never pulled a gun on him.”

“I’m sure it was only a matter of time. And besides, he’s been shot at before. I think he can handle it.” The gun barrel twitched. “Open your eyes.”

Slowly, Timmy did as she ordered. The expression on her face was smug, and for good reason - Jack was pressed up behind her, face nuzzled against her cheek and both hands up her shirt. Timmy could see the shape of his fingers through the material over her breasts, and had to fight the urge to close his eyes again.

Nisha leaned her head back against Jack, her hat going askew. “I hope I don’t need to ask if you’re going to do what we say?”

Timmy hesitated, then shook his head, slowly, keeping his teeth clear of the gun barrel.

“Good.” Jack’s hands flexed and she arched her back, letting out a breathy little noise, her lips curling into a satisfied grin. Jack mirrored her expression, his newly masked face pulling in odd places as the motion distorted it.

“As long as you take good care of us, we’ll take good care of you,” he said. “Just like I always do.”

Timmy tilted his head back as far as he could, the gun scraping the roof of his mouth, and stared up and the ceiling, willing his eyes to not water.

“You were right about his mouth,” Nisha hummed. “Keeps his teeth out of the way like a natural, doesn’t choke too easy…”

“I’m pretty sure I wasn’t his first, so it’s probably more nurture than nature.” Jack’s voice crawled down Timmy’s spine like a living thing, cold and slimy, and he shivered.

“ Pretty sure? You never asked?”

“Does it matter?”

“Well, I’m curious,” Nisha replied, decisive, and then the spit-slicked gun barrel was sliding out of Timmy’s mouth until the tip was just resting on his bottom lip, the metal now warm but still heavy and threatening.

“Tell me, honey,” Nisha said, “was Jack’s cock your first?”

Timmy swallowed. “No,” he whispered.

The gun traced the line of his lip. “How many?”

Timmy kept his eyes on the ceiling. It felt like it was closing in on him. “A lot.”

Nisha laughed. “Look at me,” she ordered, and he did. The hand not holding the gun on him was tangled in Jack’s hair, his hands pushing up her shirt around her waist as she pressed back into him. “Such a pretty mouth,” she murmured, nudging the gun back between his teeth.

“Of course it’s pretty,” Jack growled, nipping at her neck. “It’s mine.”

She pressed a kiss to his temple, almost chaste. “Of course. But we’ll have to see if it’s as good for cunts as you say it is for cocks if it’s really going to be equal to yours.”

Jack grinned, placated, and Timmy didn’t miss the way his hips rocked against her ass. He could feel a flush creeping up the back of his neck, behind his ears, and swallowed nervously, tongue pressing against the underside of the gun barrel in his mouth.

It returned the pressure as Nisha again fixed him with her stare. “On your knees,” she said, and Timmy knelt, his quivering legs struggling to not collapse. The gun slipped out of his mouth, a delicate trail of saliva briefly connecting it to his tongue before it snapped. He sat back on his heels, trembling, keeping his eyes on Nisha.

She spun the revolver around her finger, flashy as always, and holstered it in one fluid motion. Jack’s hands were still under her shirt, but one of them began to creep downwards, crossing the taut brown plane of her stomach to tease the waistband of her pants.

“Mmm,” she hummed. “So very well trained.” She half-turned to Jack, twisting in his arms. “I didn’t know you were into that.”

"He's not as tame once you get him going," Jack replied. "And besides, I'd rather have someone who knows what they're doing." He squeezed her breast with a knowing grin on his face, and she turned to press herself flush against him, sliding her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply.

Timmy eyed the door. It was closed, and there was a little red light blinking on the console beside it. Jack had done something to it - probably disabled it entirely, so that only he could open it.

It didn’t matter anyways. Even if it had been open, even if he managed to get out and get away before either of them caught - or shot - him, there was nowhere he could go. They would find him again, and he had the feeling that he’d be worse off for having tried to escape.

He hated to think of himself as resigned to his fate, but there was nothing else to call it.

Nisha planted her hands on Jack’s chest and pushed him away, breaking their embrace, and looked down over her shoulder at Timmy. “I want to see you down on your knees next to him,” she said, and her words had an aura of command, of the sort that was not easily ignored.

Timmy expected Jack to bristle, but instead he just grinned, his broad hands squeezing her hips. Timmy recalled what those hands had done to him and couldn’t fight the shiver that overcame him, though he couldn’t quite identify the emotion behind it.

“Anything you want,” Jack said, and stepped over to where Timmy knelt. Timmy kept his eyes straight ahead, looking at a point on the floor some ten feet in front of him, even when Jack paused next to him and ran his fingers through Timmy’s hair.

“You’ll enjoy this,” he whispered huskily, tugging Timmy’s head close so that his cheek pressed against Jack’s thigh, flesh burning hot beneath the denim of his jeans. “Trust me.”

He settled just to Timmy’s left, and when Timmy dared glance his way he saw that his eyes were half-lidded and dark. It was odd, being on the same level as Jack, but the balance of power was still not even close to equal - Jack was here because he wanted to be. Timmy was not.

Nisha slipped out of her jacket, discarding it carelessly on the floor, and readjusted her hat. Her shirt was still pushed up under her breasts, baring a long swath of bronze skin between the hem of the shirt and the belt still buckled across her hips, revolvers heavy against each lean thigh. It was almost mesmerizing when she moved - the subtle shift of leather against denim, the faint ripple of muscle beneath her dark skin, golden eyes predatory and feline, capturing him, hypnotizing him.

It wasn’t until he felt her touch him under the chin that he realized how close she was. He raised his head, looking up at her, but she was looking at Jack, her other hand on his cheek, caressing the silver clip on his chin with her thumb.

“Not quite a perfect match, anymore,” she mused, and her eyes slid back over to meet Timmy’s, lips curling in a smile. “I like it. It’d be too much trouble if I was trying to tell you two apart the whole time.” She gripped Timmy’s chin harder, twisting his head to the side, and he grimaced at the bite of her nails on the soft flesh under his jaw. “Speaking of…”

“Call him John,” Jack said, and her eyebrows arched again.

“I didn’t give you permission to speak,” she said, releasing both their faces and bringing her hands to her hips, “but that’ll work just fine.”

Jack was still grinning, eager, but he stayed silent as Nisha stepped away, fetching one of the chairs from the living room set in the corner and placing it before them, a few feet away. She sat in it, relaxed and uncomposed, long legs crossed in a way that left the whip that hung from her belt near to her hand. She propped her chin on her palm and looked at them.

Timmy’s feet were starting to fall asleep.

“I’ve seen a lot of things,” she said after a long moment, baring her teeth in a languid smile, “but I have to say, this is one of the prettiest pictures I’ve ever laid eyes on.” She nibbled her full lower lip thoughtfully - a dominant expression, not an uncertain one. “Could be prettier, though.”

Suddenly, Jack was on him, touching him, one hand landing on his thigh, the other between his shoulder blades, insistent and firm. Alarmed, Timmy shied his body away from the contact even as he turned his head towards the sudden assault. He’d barely opened his mouth to voice his protest when Jack kissed him, cutting him off.

Timmy rocked backwards, startled, his legs slipping out from under him as he landed on his ass. Jack followed him down, the hand on Timmy’s back holding him steady and upright, never letting their lips break contact.

Jack was as fierce a kisser as always, biting Timmy’s bottom lip, waiting for him to gasp before invading his mouth with his tongue, wrestling for dominance. Timmy conceded, let Jack claim his territory, the hand on his upper back holding him close, the fingers digging into his hip pinning him to the floor.

The mask was disconcerting. It felt like skin - was warm like skin, with the texture and elasticity of skin, and when he dared run his tongue along Jack’s lip he found that it even tasted like skin - but it was clearly not . Too smooth, too flawless, too something , and he found himself trying to feel more of it, to get a sense for exactly what it was that was off.

It wasn’t until he bit Jack’s lip hard enough to make him hiss in pain and back off that he realized he hadn’t drawn a breath since Jack’s mouth had first made contact with his. His chest heaved desperately, and he was struck with sudden panic as he realized what he’d been doing, willingly.

Every time. Every goddamn time, he crumbled like sand.

Jack’s smile was crooked, and he licked his lip where Timmy had bitten it. “Toldja.”

He remembered that Nisha was in the room, presumably watching, but when he tried to look at her Jack fisted a hand in his hair and held him steady, face to face.

“Nope,” he said. “For now, it’s just us.” He leaned back a little and shrugged out of his jacket, and Timmy held his gaze, his breathing steadying, resisting the dozen conflicting impulses that warred for control inside of him. Jack’s eyes glittered in the low light, jewel-bright and just as hard of edge, the green one a little glassier than the blue.

This time, his hands were almost gentle, though no less insistent, and Timmy let himself be urged backwards until he was sprawled out on the floor, hands at his sides, heart pounding in his chest. Jack settled over his hips, interlocking their legs so that each of them had a thigh between those of the other, and grinned down at him. “The prettiest damn picture,” he murmured, slipping his hands under the lapels of Timmy’s jacket and forcing the sleeves down his arms so that they were pinned underneath him, trapped by the fabric and his own body weight.

The position wasn’t exactly comfortable. “Jack…” he mumbled uncertainly, but Jack slid a hand back into his hair and tugged, silencing him.

“Shh,” he shushed. “Trust me.” He used the hand in Timmy’s hair to drag his head back, baring his throat and forcing him to arch his back up off the floor. He shivered as Jack’s mouth found the sensitive spot just below his ear - he knew where all his pressure points were, now, and exactly the reaction each one of them would give, and had always been uncompromising with their use. Distaste swelled in his throat, but was immediately washed away by the involuntary whimper that escaped him as Jack nipped at the corner of his jaw.

He tried to bite back more noises as Jack worked his way down his throat, but wasn’t successful. The last bruise from their previous encounters had finally faded some days back, but Jack’s teeth and tongue were clearly striving to give him a fresh set, Timmy’s unmarked skin overwhelmingly sensitive before the onslaught.

Timmy whined, arms pulling on their restraints as his back arched farther. Jack shifted position, and Timmy felt a hand slip under his lower back, supporting him off the floor even as it pulled their hips into closer contact. He braced a heel against the floor and pushed up, grinding against Jack’s thigh. Jack half-laughed, half-growled, abandoning Timmy’s neck to kiss him again, sucking on his lower lip, fingernails scraping Timmy’s scalp hard enough to make him gasp.

The hand on Timmy’s back pushed his shirt up - he’d stopped wearing the Hyperion sweater a while back, just throwing his jacket on over his plain white T-shirt. Jack was still wearing his sweater, though Timmy had noticed that he’d swapped out his boots for sneakers, and jeans in a slightly different cut - they seemed tighter, though maybe that was just because of the rock-hard dick pressing through them and into Timmy’s thigh.

When Jack pulled back for air, heavy, husky panting filling up the room and drowning out Timmy’s breathier noises, he pushed Timmy’s shirt up as far as it would go, baring his stomach and a large portion of his chest. The relatively cool air on his overheated skin made him shiver. Twisting sideways, he managed to free one arm from where it had been trapped in his jacket and slid his hand up under Jack’s sweater, running it along the hard plane of his stomach. The skin under his palm flinched and rippled at the contact, and Jack chuckled hoarsely.

He bent over Timmy, the curve of his shoulders broad and graceful as they strained his shirt, and pressed a kiss to Timmy’s sternum. His breath hitched, and Jack laughed again, nipping at the taut flesh as best he could, the hand on Timmy’s chest seeking out a nipple. When Jack’s thumb brushed over it - hot skin, cool air, the coarse pad of Jack’s finger hotter still - Timmy’s hips jerked involuntarily, pressing his erection against Jack’s thigh with enough force to be borderline painful. He yelped, and Jack repeated the maneuver, sucking a hickey into Timmy’s ribs.

Timmy dug his fingernails into Jack’s side as the man worked him over, running his tongue along the lines of his musculature, working his way back up to Timmy’s throat, then his mouth, kissing him so deeply that Timmy could feel the line of the mask on the inside of his lips. He tweaked Timmy’s nipple again, swallowing up the gasp he made in response and returning it as a hungry growl. He let go of Timmy’s hair to bring his hand lower, palming Timmy’s ass, digging his thumb into the cut of his hip. Sucking on Timmy’s tongue, he deftly flicked the button of his jeans open, dipping his fingers below the waistband of his underwear to tease the flesh there.

“Jack.” Nisha’s voice cut through the air like a razor, and in an instant Jack had his hands and mouth off of Timmy. He sat back on his heels, head swiveling to heed her call, leaving Timmy exposed, confused, and overstimulated, struggling to extricate the arm that was still trapped in his jacket.

He freed himself and sat up, looking over towards Nisha as well. She was still seated in the chair, looking like she’d hardly moved an inch; it took Timmy a long moment to notice that her legs were uncrossed and her pants undone, and that she had one hand down the front of them.

“I could have framed that and hung it on my wall,” she purred, and Jack smirked, shifting his weight like he was going to stand. “Stay,” she commanded, gesturing with the hand she’d been using to support her head, and Jack immediately stilled. She gazed at Timmy. “John,” she said, “come,” and crooked a finger at him, a feline smile curling the corners of her mouth.

Timmy dared to steal a glance at Jack, who sat unmoving with a slightly perplexed look on his face, before rolling shakily to his feet and pacing over to Nisha. He was hyperaware of the way his shirt was rucked up under his armpits and how his jeans were hanging low on his hips, but made no move to adjust either; he suspected that it would not be appreciated.

Nisha indicated the spot next to the chair at her left hand with a relaxed gesture. “Down,” she commanded, and Timmy knelt. There was a tremble starting low in his spine, and it was only compounded when Nisha reached out and brushed his throat with her lacquered nails, stopping to press at each tender spot Jack had left. Timmy swallowed down a whimper, and when she pressed her thumb to a particularly sensitive spot right over the pulse point in his neck a shudder ran through him, skull to tailbone.

“I wondered where you were getting all those marks from,” she told him, “though I guess it should have been obvious.” She trailed her fingertips along the side of his face and carded them through his hair, leaving tingling trails of sensation across his scalp. “It’s not like we know anyone else who claims everything as their own.”

“If you want a hickey, all you’ve gotta do is ask,” Jack piped up from where he still knelt by the wall. “Plenty to go around.”

If Nisha’s glance had been any sharper, it would have sliced Jack in two. “Come here,” she snapped, wrapping a possessive hand around the back of Timmy’s neck as she drew the other one out of her pants.

Jack stood and swaggered over, a smug slash of white teeth across his masked face. His hair was disheveled, sleeves and hem of his sweater pushed up to display broad forearms and a stripe of skin above his waistband, snug jeans doing absolutely nothing to disguise the prominent bulge at his crotch - the very definition of a hot mess, his expression heavy and dark. Timmy swallowed, and licked his lips nervously.

Nisha sat back as Jack approached, and he leaned over her, bracing his hands on the arms of the chair and a knee between her thighs, that filthy, teasing smirk still on his face. The hand on the back of Timmy’s neck tightened as she smirked back, and he felt swallowed up in their shadow as they loomed over him..

“You need to learn to behave yourself,” Nisha said, delicately raising her hand to rest two fingertips on Jack’s bottom lip. Realizing where those fingers had been just a moment ago, Timmy was suddenly aware of the scent of her - clean but musky, thick, familiar and unmistakable.

“I really do,” Jack agreed, nibbling gently at her fingers before drawing them into his mouth. She sucked in a pleased breath, squeezing Timmy’s nape hard enough to hurt. When she drew her hand back her fingers were shining to the second knuckle, and Jack licked his lips, slowly.

“But I just cannot resist riling you up,” he growled, and Nisha laughed throatily.

“I think the three of us are wearing far too much clothing,” she said. “Care to help with that?”

“Where should I start?” Jack asked solicitously.

She arched her back, lifting her chest up towards him. “Right here would be good.”

Slowly, Jack ran his hands up her bare sides, hooking his thumbs under her shirt and pushing it up further. Releasing her grip on Timmy’s neck, Nisha took off her hat and tossed it aside as Jack drew the shirt over her head in one fluid motion.

For some reason, Timmy had expected her bra to to be black, or purple - why he had preconceptions as to the color of her undergarments, he had no idea - but it was plain beige, a few shades lighter than the rich tone of her skin. It was a practical article, but in no way an unflattering one; the swell of her breasts above the cups was tantalizing, and Jack’s broad hands landed on them with zero hesitation.

She plucked them off and shook her head. “Your turn.”

It seemed like Jack couldn’t get his sweater off fast enough, almost losing his balance as he flung it aside. Before he could get his hands back on Nisha’s breasts, her own hands landed on his freshly bared chest. He cocked an eyebrow at her as she snickered, digging her nails into his skin.

“One more,” she nudged, tilting her head in Timmy’s direction. Jack looked down at him, and Timmy felt his heart stutter in his chest.

“Save you the trouble,” he said, quickly shedding his T-shirt, and the goosebumps that prickled down his back had nothing to do with the temperature. Nisha rolled her eyes, but didn’t complain.

Jack’s gaze didn’t linger. “Happy?” he asked Nisha, and she slid her arms around his neck, drawing him down closer.

“Happy enough,” she replied, leaning up and kissing him. Jack’s hands wandered around to her back, deftly undoing the clasps of her bra before sliding under the fabric, cupping a breast in each hand. His palms were broad, more than enough to totally encompass her modest chest, and Timmy heard her moan into Jack’s mouth as his thumbs brushed over her nipples.

He wasn’t even sure why he was watching, but it was hard to look away - Nisha was lean and dark, Jack broad and fair, and they moved together with a captivating rhythm that drew the eye relentlessly. Physical contrast aside, they were identical in that they were predatory, dangerous, merciless - and Timmy was prey, frozen and enraptured, knowing that he would be devoured and there was no longer anything he could do about it.

When they finally broke apart, Nisha’s lips were kiss-swollen, and there was a smear of purple gloss at the corner of Jack’s mouth.

“I think we should take this over to the bed,” Nisha said, delicately shrugging out of her bra and dropping the article on the floor.

Jack made a face. “I’m not sure it’ll be any more comfortable than the floor,” he remarked. “If I’d known we were going to be doing this here, I would have had better mattresses put in the whole block ages ago. Or just, y’know, not have done this here at all.”

“If you want rugburn, that’s your choice, but I’m going over to the bed with or without you,” Nisha replied.

Jack grinned. “With, definitely with,” he said, and scooped her up into his arms, bridal-style, like she hardly weighed a thing. She gave short, bright laugh before smirking down at Timmy as Jack turned to carry her towards the back of the apartment, where the bedroom alcove was located.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you,” she said, crooking a finger at him, and Timmy struggled to stand - his feet had started to fall asleep inside his boots, and were tingling uncomfortably.

When Jack deposited her on the bed, she bounced a little on the hard mattress before making a face. “It’ll do,” she sighed, before lifting a leg and planting her boot in the middle of Jack’s chest. “Off.”

He traced his fingertips up her lean thigh, as high as he could reach, before slowly dragging them back down - but he hadn’t even reached her knee before she kicked him. “Stop teasing ,” she demanded, and Jack promptly stripped her of both boots and socks in five seconds flat.

“Get down here,” she commanded, grabbing the waistband of his jeans and pulling him down onto the bed. He went gracelessly, but was apparently unfazed, and began kicking off his own shoes even as he rolled onto his back beside her.

Timmy approached the bed, hesitant, and Nisha smiled up at him even as she wiggled out of her pants, working the snug denim over her hips. “John,” she said, her voice dripping with honey, “there’s something I’d like you to do for me,” and Timmy knew with certainty that he was a fly well and truly caught.

He knelt at the side of the bed without her asking, helping her peel her jeans down her thighs and calves. Her skin was silky-smooth, marked only by the occasional scar, and she’d left her gunbelt wrapped around her hips, still weighted with whip and revolvers. Her panties were purple, lavender trimmed with delicate black lace, and as he dropped her pants off to the side she hooked a heel over his bare shoulder.

Gingerly, he placed his hands on her knees and looked up at Jack, who had positioned himself behind Nisha so she was seated between his still-clothed legs, his hands cupping her chest. He looked a little jealous, face buried in her dark hair, blue eye narrowed as he looked down at Timmy.

“Don’t mind him,” Nisha said to Timmy, reaching up to pat Jack’s face. “I just have to find out for myself if you’re as good as he claims you to be.” Jack bit her shoulder, and she arched her back with a breathy noise.

Timmy bit his lip, looking back down between her legs as his throat tightened up. He was terrified - terrified he was crossing some line, terrified that there was no going back after this point, even though he knew it wasn’t all that different than what he’d done to Jack at least a dozen times. Whether he had a choice in the matter was moot; he was still here, on his knees, offering up no protest. He took a deep breath, hooking his thumbs under the lace of her panties and hesitating.

“What’s wrong?” Nisha asked, sounding half annoyed, half concerned. “Don’t tell me you’ve never-”

“I have,” Timmy cut her off, then cringed at his own boldness. “It’s just...it’s been a long time.”

“More popular with the boys than the girls, hmm?” she mused, more than a little humor in her voice.

Timmy shot another look back up at Jack. “You could say that.”

If he was going to do this, he might as well do it right.

He changed his approach, shifting his hands to slide one thumb along the crotch of her panties while the other gently teased her inner thigh. She was wet, wet enough to have soaked through the thin fabric, and he leaned in closer even as he dug his thumb in harder, seeking pressure points. The fingers on her inner thigh dipped beneath the lace there, briefly, and he felt her leg tremble as his breath ghosted over the damp stain beneath his thumb.

Her scent was overwhelming, clogging up his nostrils with its headiness, and his dick jumped in his pants as he hooked her other leg up over his shoulder, tugging her closer to the edge of the bed. Jack followed, keeping his body flush against Nisha’s, but Timmy hardly noticed. When he finally dragged his tongue over Nisha’s underwear, now wet enough to cling to every contour beneath, she whined low in her throat.

Timmy hadn’t been lying - it had been a long, long time since he’d eaten a girl out - but the taste wasn’t one that was easily forgotten, and the sounds she made as he teased the tip of his tongue against the nub of her clit through her underwear encouraged him, let him know he was on the right track. Leaning back, he dragged her panties off, maneuvering them off her legs before draping her knees over his shoulders once more. She threaded one hand into his hair, digging her sharp nails into his scalp as she pulled him in close, and he went without a fight.

Her cunt was dark, dusky mauve with just the faintest bloom of rosey pink at its core, and a single trail of neatly trimmed hair ran down her mons as if to point the way. Timmy needed no guidance, parting her folds with his tongue, tasting her as he dug his fingertips into the sides of her ass. He lingered on her clit, swirling the very tip of his tongue around it until she shuddered, then pressing down with the flat until she whined. He flickered his eyes upward - Jack was cupping her breasts, nipples pinched between his fingers as he mouthed his way along the line of her throat. His eyes were half-lidded but no less intense than usual - more so, if anything - and the heat building low in Timmy’s core increased by a few degrees.

Nisha’s heels dug into Timmy’s back, and he slipped one hand down to dip his fingers into her well. She was slick, and one finger slid into her with almost no resistance as he lapped at her clit distractingly. Her moan was short, but satisfying, and a rivulet of her juices ran down the back of his hand as she clenched around his finger. He twisted his wrist, crooked his finger, and her breath hitched as her nails dug into his scalp.

Finding his rhythm was a little rough - his new nose, Jack’s nose, was more prominent than what he’d had to deal with in the past, and it took him a moment to find a way to work around it. When he had it, though, he had it; he could feel her winding up around him, cunt drawing his fingers in, thighs tensing against his neck and shoulders. Experimentally, he scraped his teeth across the top of her clit, and she jumped like she’d been electrocuted. Timmy’s cock throbbed sympathetically, still trapped in his jeans, and he whimpered into her cunt as he shifted uncomfortably.

Nisha laughed hoarsely. “You can touch yourself,” she said magnanimously - Timmy hadn’t realized his discomfort was that apparent. “Just a little.”

Grateful, Timmy nipped at her clit again, making her keen, before wrapping the hand that had been working inside her back around her leg, grinding his thumb against her clit as he fumbled at his pants with his other hand. He pinched her swollen nub between the pad of his thumb and his tongue, trying to keep her satisfied as he struggled to get his cock out of his pants.

Finally it was free, and that first stroke was heavenly after all the teasing Jack had done and his reaction to having his face between Nisha’s lean thighs. Her hand tightened in his hair, as if to remind him that she came first, and he obliged, moving his tongue’s focus. The passage that had been slick for his finger was virtually frictionless for his tongue, and he rubbed circles into her clit as he probed for that patch of spongy tissue on her front vaginal wall, curling his tongue against it as best he could. The angle wasn’t fantastic - there was already an ache building in his neck as he tried to compensate for it - but it seemed to do the trick, as she ground herself against his face with a long moan. Her taste on his tongue was whiting out all his other senses.

Keeping track of it all was a struggle - rubbing her clit, working his tongue, giving his own cock the occasional stroke, all while she ground erratically against his face - it took him a long moment to realize that her rhythm was being interrupted by Jack grinding against her ass, his hands still gripping at her breasts. Timmy let go of his cock to grab Jack’s calf instead, the muscle flexing beneath his grip in counter to the way Nisha’s thighs flexed around his ears.

He pulled back for air, breathing heavily, Nisha’s juices and his own saliva running down his chin, and began nipping at the inside of her thighs even as he kept working his thumb down on her nub in steady circles. He latched on to the thin skin at the crease of her thigh, sucking a dark hickey into her flesh as he looked deliberately up at Jack. The other man didn’t seem to care or notice, too preoccupied with leaving his own marks up and down Nisha’s neck as he rutted against her backside.

Timmy sucked a matching hickey onto her other thigh before returning to the task at hand. When he slipped two fingers into her, scissoring them slightly, she moaned, and when he wrapped his lips back around her clit she keened, clamping her thighs down on the sides of his head. And when he bit down on her nub, gently, she came with a choked scream, arching her back and pulling on his hair with both hands as she trembled and pulsed around him.

He licked at her until she pushed him away, sitting back on his heels as she relaxed into Jack’s arms. Timmy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and it came away shining. Her inner thighs were glistening, too, glazing the bruises he’d left on her dusky skin.

Suddenly feeling almost shy, Timmy ducked his head as Nisha smirked down at him, conscious of how wide his knees were spread, practically putting his cock on display. She was still wearing her gunbelt, the honey-colored leather riding up around her waist, a golden accent on her lean and and otherwise bare form.

“Can’t have been too long since you last did that,” she murmured, fingertips tracing lazy patterns on the back of one of Jack’s hands, which were still glued to her chest.

“Took him forever to make you come, though,” Jack butted in, mouthing at her ear. “Never takes me that long.”

Nisha rolled her eyes at the jealousy in his voice, pinching his forearm with her sharp nails hard enough to make him wince. “You have a...different technique. More aggressive. It’s difficult to judge one against the other.”

Timmy, still kneeling between Nisha’s legs, looked up and realized he was almost grateful for the way this was all playing out. Whether it was intentional or not, she was a much-welcome barrier between him and Jack, distracting the other man and keeping him in check. When there was nothing to break his focus, Jack was prone to becoming dangerous, intensity building on an exponential curve, dealing out more and more pain the higher up the scale he climbed. Timmy knew Nisha was dangerous, too - but she was dangerous on purpose, deliberate and intentional. Jack simply got out of control.

He’d left Timmy hurting enough times to establish the pattern, at least.

Jack was glaring down at Timmy over Nisha’s shoulder, gemstone eyes splintered and sharp. His hips had never stopped moving, grinding out small, persistent circles against Nisha’s ass.

“I want to fuck you,” he whispered in Nisha’s ear, and even though that hoarse and desperate voice had only ever meant bad things for Timmy he found himself responding anyway, dick twitching against his thigh even though the words weren’t meant for him. Jack’s voice was all silk shirts with the buttons ripped off, fingernails scraping skin just hard enough to hurt, vanilla candles and cinnamon chapstick in a dark room where the sun wouldn’t come up for hours. “I want to fuck you while he licks you, feel his tongue on the both of us, feel your pussy twitch when he kisses your clit, I want-”

Nisha grabbed his ear and twisted, and Jack’s head followed as he hissed in pain. “Impertinent,” and her voice was broken glass rolled in sugar, cutting and sweet all at once. “Not a bad idea, but impertinent all the same.” She looked down at Timmy, golden eyes just visible beneath the dark fringe of her lashes. “An excellent idea, in fact.”

She rose to her feet, deftly unbuckling the revolver-laden belt from her hips and tossing it aside. Timmy had both hands clenched on his thighs, unsure what to do with himself; his jaw was aching, and he didn’t know if he was up to what they’d apparently decided on, but the thought of disagreeing was terrifying. Jack and Nisha were both violent people, and while he hadn’t seen much of that violence today he knew it had to be lurking in there somewhere, waiting to come out and draw blood.

“Pants off, John,” Nisha said, carding a hand through his hair, her nails scraping along his scalp from hairline to crown hard enough to make him shiver. “You too, Jack.”

Jack was already fumbling at his zipper. “Tie his hands,” he urged, and Nisha whirled on him, lashing out to slap him across the face. His head snapped to the side with the force of the strike - Nisha was lean, not weak - but he was grinning, teeth gleaming white even as Nisha grabbed his chin and tilted his head back to force him to look at her.

“You are lucky ,” she growled, “that I am not done with the both of you yet.” Jack said nothing, staring up at her from beneath the hair that had fallen over his eyes, still grinning even as her nails bit into the false skin of his cheek hard enough to leave dents.

Of course the violence would come as soon as it’s absence was noted. Biting the inside of his cheek, Timmy fell back onto his ass and wriggled his way out of the rest of his clothes as Nisha delicately stepped around him, on the hunt for something on the floor. Her ass was a shapely bronze distraction in his peripheral vision, and he almost didn’t notice that Jack had also gotten to his feet and dropped his pants.

“John,” Jack said as Timmy shifted back onto his knees - the carpet was uncomfortably coarse - and he turned to look, only to get a distressingly familiar eyeful. On any other person, that cock would have been a majesty, but on Jack it was more akin to a travesty.

A firm touch under Timmy’s jaw urged him to lift his head up, but he kept his eyes downcast. A thumb slid over his chin, which was still tacky to the touch, and traced the line of his lower lip before pressing down, coaxing his mouth open. Jack’s chuckle was hoarse and dark as he hooked his thumb over Timmy’s bottom teeth, pressing down on his tongue, and Timmy resisted the urge to bite down. He just let his front teeth scrape Jack’s knuckle as he drooled helplessly on his hand, eyes still locked on the floor.

“You know the drill, kiddo,” Jack said, and the thumb in Timmy’s mouth was promptly replaced with a silkier, heavier weight. He lapped at it, hating, hating, hating himself for his obedience, and when it nudged forward he opened his mouth wider to accommodate it. Jack grunted as Timmy swirled his tongue around the head, jaw already twinging, the bitter taste of precum washing away any trace of Nisha that still lingered.

He jumped as he felt a featherlight touch between his shoulderblades, and Jack hissed as Timmy’s teeth scraped along the underside of his shaft. “Arms back, John,” Nisha purred in his ear, close enough that he could feel the heat of her breath on his neck, and he complied. Whatever she was using to bind his wrists was soft, elastic - he suspected it was her panties, and the damp spot that rested against the inside of his left wrist corroborated this fact - but his train of thought was derailed as Jack thrust into his mouth. Timmy looked up through his eyelashes, and Jack made a harsh noise as he grabbed Timmy’s head and forced his mouth farther down his cock.

Timmy gagged, unprepared, but Jack just pushed harder - it wasn’t the first time he’d pulled this stunt, and Timmy’s throat opened up before the intrusion even as his eyes watered - why wasn’t Nisha stopping him? - and a fresh trickle of drool ran down his chin as he tried to whimper. Jack groaned, holding himself there for a long moment before pulling out completely, sitting back down hard on the bed.

Timmy coughed violently, trying to clear his throat and suck in a breath at the same time, nearly falling over from the force of his spasms. His eyes and nose were both leaking, and his lips were slick with spit - he wanted to wipe them dry, but his hands were bound firmly enough that he knew Nisha meant for him to stay bound. He settled for blinking furiously and wiping his mouth roughly against his shoulder, and when his vision cleared he saw that Jack was wearing what had to be the smuggest expression known to mankind.

“Sorry, John,” he said, with absolutely no remorse. “I just couldn’t resist.”

Nisha reappeared in Timmy’s field of view, sliding gracefully into Jack’s lap and settling herself with her legs spread wide. Jack’s hands wrapped around her waist as she reached down to grasp his cock, still wet from Timmy’s mouth.

She looked down at Timmy and winked as Jack lifted her up, and she guided the head of his cock to her entrance. Slowly, Jack let her back down, inch by inch, and a breathy gasp escaped her as she took him in, arching her back and biting down on the knuckles she had pressed to her mouth. Jack groaned as well, muffled from where his face was buried against her shoulder, the relief in the sound as plain as anything.

When Nisha was fully settled, flush against Jack’s hips with her knees braced wide, she looked down at Timmy and smirked, the hand at her mouth trailing its way down to her breast while the other lingered between her legs, stroking the point where she and Jack were joined. “I know it’s a hell of show, honey, but don’t forget you have a job to do.”

Timmy hadn’t even realized he’d been staring. God damn them both, good looks and predatory attitudes all - and damn him for being taken in by it, no matter how hard his inner voice, the one that must represent the only sane part of him left, protested and screamed.

He leaned forward, the muscles in his core tightening as he struggled to keep his balance, and ran his tongue from Jack’s balls up to Nisha’s clit. He heard Jack mutter “ah, fuck ” as Nisha trembled, and when Timmy licked his way up between the fingers of the hand that still rested on her mons she gave a hitched laugh, stroking the side of his face.

Jack’s hands tightened against Nisha’s hips as he lifted her up, broad forearms flexing, and Timmy licked at each additional inch of Jack’s cock that was revealed. The man’s hips rolled, working his cock inside of Nisha even as he slipped out of her, and she sighed, pulling Timmy’s head in closer. He took the cue, running his tongue between her wide-spread lips to tease her clit, and as she sank back down onto Jack’s cock she moaned even as he grunted, pulling her down as snug against him as he could. “God, you’re tight,” he breathed, and her laugh turned into a sharp whimper as he rolled his hips.

Jack fucked Nisha slowly - whether that was due to the awkwardness of their position or Timmy’s actions as he mouthed at them, he didn’t know, but it was a far cry from what he had expected from the two of them. They were both hard, vicious people, and he’d expected that their sex would match that - but who knew. Maybe they were just getting started.

Timmy worked his way downwards to lap at Jack’s sac, earning a sharp noise from the other man as his hips stuttered, and Nisha made a startled-sounding whimper in reply. Timmy opened his mouth wide, carefully coaxing one of Jack’s balls into his mouth, making sure to keep his teeth clear as he toyed with it, wishing he had use of his hands. Jack stopped moving altogether, except for the subtle quiver in the broad muscles of his thighs.

“Jack,” Nisha whined, plaintive tone taking the edge off the authority in her voice. “Don’t stop. ”

“Sorry, sorry,” he replied, voice wavering. “He’s... hnnh! ”

Being able to get noises out of Jack was still bizarrely gratifying - making him lose that cocky composure and break down a little - but Timmy knew better than to push his luck, and gave Jack’s balls a final broad tonguestroke before he pulled back for air. There was sweat trickling down the back of his neck, his feet were going numb, his overworked jaw ached, and his shoulders were already strained from the position they were trapped in, but as Jack slammed up into Nisha hard enough to make her gasp Timmy felt himself flush from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest, washing his discomfort away.

Nisha’s head lolled back against Jack’s shoulder as Timmy ducked back in to drag his tongue over her clit, rough and sloppy, and he heard her moan and whisper hoarsely into Jack’s ear as he drove into her with an ever-increasing ferocity. “Your cock is so big , babe, I can feel it all the way up inside me - fuck me harder, you know how I like it-”

Timmy scraped his teeth across the top of her clit, a little harder than he meant to, and was rewarded with a hand in his hair, pulling him in closer. She was soaking wet, juices dripping down Jack’s shaft, and Timmy licked them up hungrily. He glanced up just in time to see Jack bite down on her shoulder, and her back arched as he snapped his hips up with a rough grunt.

When Timmy sucked on her clit, hard, he could feel the muscles in her lower stomach trembling, winding tighter and tighter even as Jack’s thrusts became rougher and more erratic, less in time with the way he continued to lift and lower her down on him, and Timmy didn’t see what the other man did but he could feel the effect of it, and Nisha came with a scream. The bowstring curve of her body snapped, trying to coil in on itself and lash out at the same time, and Jack fucked her through it, Timmy’s mouth still on them both.

Nisha was still full in the throes of her orgasm when Jack’s hips suddenly stuttered and he lost control, one, two, three hammering thrusts before he slammed tight into Nisha and stayed there with a grunt and a long, jumbled curse, “ ahfuckgoddammitholyshit- ”

The taste on Timmy’s tongue began to turn bitter as he dutifully licked them both through it, and it took him a moment to realize why - thin rivulets of cum were mixed with the juices that were still slipping down the shaft of Jack’s cock.

When Jack flopped backwards onto the bed, Nisha went with him, sprawled on her back across his chest as they both panted and trembled. Timmy continued to mouth at them, cleaning up their combined fluids until Nisha flinched and struggled back upright, pushing him away while muttering, “fuck, fuck, stop , for fuck’s sake.”

Timmy acquiesced, sitting back on his now fully-asleep heels and looking up at her as he licked his lips. Her eyes were half-lidded, lazy and satisfied, but she grinned and laughed throatily at him, slipping off Jack’s lap to straddle Timmy’s thighs.

It was a shock when she kissed him, cupping his face in her hands as she licked her way into his mouth with zero hesitation. He couldn’t help the startled noise that caught in his throat, and she laughed into his mouth even as she licked the back of his teeth and bit his tongue like she was trying to find any taste of her and Jack that still lingered. When Timmy dared to kiss her back, he discovered that the remnants of her lip gloss tasted faintly like vanilla.

When she reached down between his legs he jumped - he hadn’t even realized that he’d gone half-soft while preoccupied with his previous task, and it was a bit embarrassing. But if Nisha minded, she didn’t show it, her hand agile and soft but for the calluses on her fingertips, her tongue hot in Timmy’s mouth.

“Hey,” Jack mumbled from the bed. “ Hey! ”

Nisha pulled away and twisted to look back at him, the look on her face uninhibitedly pleased. Timmy peered around her, but almost immediately cringed back; Jack looked royally pissed, mismatched eyes razor-sharp beneath the wild muss of his hair. His brow furrowed oddly, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes not quite right, the mask changing the nuances of his expression just enough to make it almost unfamiliar and that much more frightening.

“Jack,” Nisha purred, “John’s been so good - so good - I think he deserves something nice, don’t you?” Even though she was looking away from him, Timmy could still feel the heat of her smoulder - it practically radiated off her skin. For the first time, he noticed the enormous, bloodied bruises on her neck and shoulders, bruises in the intimately familiar shape of Jack’s teeth, and squirmed as she languidly stroked his cock.

“How nice are we talking?” Jack asked, sounding a little wary - Timmy knew that there were some things that Jack just would not do, and he wasn’t sure if even Nisha could talk him into them.

Nisha made a pleased hm noise. “I was thinking we make him the middle of the sandwich,” she replied. “Everybody wins that way.” She turned back to Timmy, smirking, hand still lazily stroking his cock, and he swallowed nervously.

Jack grinned, eyes darkening as his gaze roved over the two of them - Timmy still bound and kneeling, Nisha straddling his lap, cum streaking the inside of her lean thighs. “Yeah, I can work with that,” he said, and Timmy’s stomach tried to tie itself in a weird knot. “Gonna have to give a me a minute, though,” the other man added, gesturing in the general area of his crotch before flopping back down on the bed.

Nisha beamed, leaning forward and pressing her chest to Timmy’s as she reached around him to work his hands free of his bonds. “You’re gonna be needing these,” she whispered in his ear, and his dick jumped as he felt her nipples harden against his chest.

When he was free, she slid off his lap and pulled him to his feet. He wobbled - his legs were completely asleep from the knees down, pins and needles pricking between his toes - and she used his own weight against him, pushing him down onto the bed next to Jack.

The mattress was hard as a rock, but it was familiar, and absolutely heavenly compared to the the roughly-carpeted floor. He sank back into it as far as he could - which wasn’t very far - and tried to breathe deeply. The voice in the back of his head was still screaming, but he couldn’t make out the words anymore, and when Nisha prowled onto the bed to hover over him it was completely drowned out by the roaring of his own blood in his ears.

Straddling his hips, Nisha dragged her nails up his thigh, over his hipbone, and across the plane of this stomach, and Timmy quivered, the sharp points of her nails leaving tingling lines on his overheated skin. When she trailed them back down to just scrape against the base of his cock, he had to bite his tongue to keep from yelping.

The bed shifted heavily as Jack rolled up onto his knees to join Nisha where she loomed over him. Propping a forearm on her shoulder, he grinned down at Timmy as he leaned forward to plant his other hand on the bed next to Timmy’s head.

“I promised we’d take good care of you, didn’t I,” Jack murmured, his voice hoarse, and Timmy’s answering shiver ran deeper than the one caused by Nisha’s nails.

When they pulled at him, urging him to move, Timmy didn’t resist - he just let himself be guided where they wanted him to go. He couldn’t fight them anymore, didn’t want to fight them anymore. He gave himself over into their coarse and dangerous hands, and when Jack pressed a kiss to Nisha’s shoulder and whispered “ front pocket of my jeans, babe, ” it was just his hands on Timmy where he knelt with his knees spread wide, back to Jack’s chest.

Nisha returned, sitting in front of Timmy and passing something back to Jack before taking Timmy’s hands and guiding them to her shoulders. “You’re probably going to want to lean on me,” she told him, and as Timmy fingered the bite marks on her neck he noticed his hands were shaking. When had he started shaking?

Jack’s hands weren’t on him anymore, and the faint crinkle of foil cued Timmy in to what was happening. He leaned forward, putting his weight on Nisha as he lifted his ass off of Jack’s lap, and the latter laughed and stroked a hand up Timmy’s spine.

“I love how I don’t even have to ask,” he commented, “but I’m going to anyways. You ready for this, kiddo?”

Timmy bit his lip. Ready, no, never really ready - but he was willing to let it happen, though he felt a little sear of resentment at being forced to vocalize it. Made the whole thing real, somehow.

“Yes,” he rasped, alarmed at the rawness of his own voice - but it hurt much less than he’d expected it to.

The first slick, cold touch was the worst, the chill magnified by his own body heat and the sensitivity of his entrance, but in moments he could feel nothing but the press of Jack’s finger against his inner walls. He found himself clinging to Nisha, arms wrapped around her shoulders with his hands tangled in her hair, and when Jack worked a second finger in beside the first she kissed his cheek and stroked the back of his neck as he whined.

Jack took his time, slowly thrusting his fingers in and out, scissoring them, rotating them, and Timmy began to tremble so hard that he would have collapsed if Nisha hadn’t been bracing him with her willowy form. Minutes, hours - he didn’t know how long it went on for, but it was unbearable, the buildup from all the previous teasing and the burn of the new sensations stacking up against each other until he was sobbing. When Jack finally deigned to press his fingertips hard into his prostate, Timmy couldn’t control his voice, his cries coming out loud and needy.

He felt Jack’s free hand on his shoulder, hauling him back into a mostly-upright position. He clung to Nisha, but she refused to let herself be dragged along, and Timmy let go as his back arched against the pressure of Jack’s grip.

Timmy flinched when he felt Jack’s sharp teeth nip at the shell of his ear, and yelped when the two fingers inside him deliberately flexed. “I love how goddamn loud you are,” Jack said, and his voice made the hairs on the back of Timmy’s neck stand up. “Not the least bit shy about letting me know you’re into it.” Timmy’s mouth was hanging open as he panted and whined, and Jack hooked two fingers into it, catching them behind Timmy’s teeth and pulling his head around so that he was forced to look back over his shoulder. “With that pretty voice, and the pretty face to match it.”

A third finger was added to the two already deep in Timmy’s ass, and most of the muscles in his lower body flexed convulsively as he tried to curl forward, the fingers in his mouth holding him back and muffling his cries. He drooled helplessly onto Jack’s hand, flickering his eyes back to catch a glimpse of his masked face, and the heavy smoulder in those mismatched eyes almost made him choke. He rocked back a little too far, the back of his thighs making contact with the other man’s lap, and felt the unmistakable contour of Jack’s half-hard dick.

When Jack let him go, Nisha was there to catch him, and he buried his face between her breasts as Jack’s fingers pumped in and out of him, painfully slow and steady, working him up to something huge and impossibly distant. He was halfway to completely undone, feeling like he was going to shake his way right out of his skin, pouring uninhibited noises into Nisha’s chest. He almost didn’t notice when Jack added a fourth finger except that it burned , and was immediately cooled by a fresh drizzle of lube.

And just like that he was empty, and the sound he made at the loss was absolutely wretched.

Nisha nudged him back upright, and Timmy somehow found the strength to hold himself there as she brushed her hand over his cock - which was ridiculously, achingly hard, her touch nearly crippling - and with quick, practiced motions rolled a condom onto him. Then Jack was touching his spine, pushing him forward as Nisha lay back before him, and Timmy took a moment to glance down at himself.

The condom was yellow. He suddenly felt like crying.

In spite of it all, he somehow found the presence of mind to reach up to the head of the bed to grab the two thin pillows there, slipping them under Nisha’s hips. She smirked up at him, makeup smudged and hair tangled, and reached up to touch his face even as he braced himself over her. “You really do know what you’re doing.”

Timmy ducked his head. “Well enough,” he mumbled, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth. Jack’s hand was an insistent pressure on the small of his back, so Timmy ran his fingers through Nisha’s folds, clumsy with haste, before lining the head of his cock up against her entrance. He could feel the heat of her - or maybe she was reflecting his own heat back at him - all he knew is that she was glowing and he was dripping with sweat, and he felt a sudden anxious pang as he realized that there was no way he was going to last very long trapped between the two of them.

Nisha laced her fingers behind his neck and pulled his head down, whispering “get on with it,” and Timmy surged forward, burying half his length inside her in one smooth thrust.

He felt like he was going to die. It had been so, so long since he’d last had his dick inside of anyone, and the sensation washed over his brain like static, everything going soft and fuzzy and overwhelming, buzzing right down to his bones. He pulled back, thrust forward again until he was buried up to the hilt - she was silk, she was velvet, she was scorchingly hot and squeezing him in just the right way - and her fingers tightened against the nape of his neck. “Stay,” she murmured, the command no less intense for the volume at which it was spoken, and he froze, even though staying still was the most difficult thing he could have thought to do in that moment, had he been able to think.

Jack’s hand was still heavy on the small of his back, and it slid up between his shoulder blades as he covered Timmy with his body, the heat of him suffocating. Timmy bowed his back instinctively, whimpering as the motion caused him to shift inside of Nisha, blushing as Jack squeezed his ass firmly. “You ready?” he asked, punctuating his question with a graze of teeth against Timmy’s shoulder, and Timmy nodded, ducking his head lower to bury his face against Nisha’s neck. He bit down on his own wrist when Jack’s cock bumped up against him, slick with lube and latex, finding its mark on the second try, working its way inside him with short, shallow thrusts that had Timmy gasping with each movement.

Now he was going to die, he was sure of it - he was panting like he’d run a marathon and he’d barely even moved, shivering as the sweat on his overheated skin flash-cooled where it was exposed to the air. His nerve endings fired endlessly where he was pressed against the bodies above and below him, brain completely overloaded as it was flooded by the two very distinct, very different, very pleasureable sensations coming from the cunt wrapped around him and the cock inside him. He melted down against Nisha, unable to do anything but breathe and quiver and twitch his hips in tiny, instinctive movements.

Jack chuckled hoarsely, rolling against Timmy just hard enough to keep him in the present moment. “You all right there, kitten?” he purred, and Timmy whuffed out a needy breath and squirmed, torn between thrusting forward and pushing back. Nisha made a small noise as he shifted inside her, and she reached up past him towards Jack.

“Don’t keep us waiting, babe,” she said, half pleading, half demanding, and Jack chuckled again.

“Didn’t mean to, love,” he said, and Timmy’s chest suddenly turned into a vacuum because Jack was pulling out, and Timmy’s hips were instinctively following him back which meant he was pulling out of Nisha and it was too much, it was way too much, and he didn’t know if he’d survive it when he had to thrust back in - and Jack was still talking, voice buttery smooth with just the faintest rasping edge. “I was just making sure everyone was...ready.”

Jack slammed his hips forward, and Timmy howled, forced into Nisha hard enough to bruise the backs of her thighs, but she just gasped and tightened her knees against his sides, squeezing down so tight around him that he forgot how to breathe. Jack’s heavy grunt was a wash of hot breath on the back of his neck, and when he nipped the skin there Timmy bowed his back up into the sensation, his sweat-soaked chest coming unstuck from Nisha’s with a wet, lewd sound.

The next thrust was softer, but still hard enough to rattle Timmy’s teeth, and Nisha’s nails bit into his ribs as Jack growled and grabbed Timmy’s hips hard enough to leave marks, forcing him into a slightly different position. When Jack thrust again, Timmy didn’t even have the presence of mind to make a sound, the head of his dick grinding against Nisha’s front walls, Jack’s hitting his prostate with shattering precision.

He was lost in between them, every breath he managed to suck in smelling like them - Nisha’s jasmine, Jack’s amber, both of them tinged with the salt sting of sweat. Nisha’s skin was satin-smooth against his face, his chest, his sides - Jack’s was coarsened by the scrape of hair over his back and thighs. He could hear them talking to each other, Nisha’s sharp cries and Jack’s hoarse animal noises, but couldn’t make out the words, if there were even any words to make out.

When Jack’s teeth closed on the back of his neck, his shout was lost to the harsh smack of flesh on flesh.

When Nisha’s nails dug into his shoulders, the only way he could tell he was bleeding was by the way her hands became slick against his skin.

It hurt, it hurt like hell , but it all became a part of of the greater sensation - Jack’s cock inside of him, the aching sting of teeth cutting into his skin, Nisha’s cunt squeezing him, her nails ripping furrows down his sides.

In the static-sludge-pleasure-pain mire that his brain had become, he somehow managed to produce a single thought - that he was just a prop between them, a tool to further their own twisted games - but it wasn’t really a new thought, just an old thought adjusted to compensate for the current situation, and he was about to shove it away when it added in a clear and sane voice: you’re a fucked up person surrounded by fucked up people.

Then Jack bit down on the join between his neck and shoulder, hands bruising his hipbones, and Nisha rippled around him and scraped her nails down his back and it was like someone had set him on fire, and he was burning, dying, coming so hard that he saw stars and blacked out.

He was only out out for a moment, as far as he could tell, and when he started to come back to a disoriented sort of consciousness the first thing he noticed was Nisha’s nails digging into his ass, and the second thing was the way her body was twisted hard and tense beneath him, and the third thing was Jack slamming into him again - and it hurt . He choked, struggled, reared back against Jack far enough that he slid out of Nisha, so oversensitive that he winced. “Wait, wait ,” he pleaded as Jack snarled, and shoved three fingers into Nisha’s cunt with zero preamble, grinding his thumb against her clit as hard as he could and she uncoiled with a scream, pulsing around his fingers.

He barely had a second to wish that he’d felt her come around his cock instead before Jack shoved him into the mattress, face down, ass up, and all he could do was grip the thin sheets and whimper as Jack fucked him ferociously. He closed his eyes, trying to count his own heartbeats, but they were coming much too quickly to keep track of. Jack shoved his knees further apart, arched over him, and slammed in deep with a shuddering groan.

Timmy tried to ignore the sensation of Jack’s cock pulsing inside him, but couldn’t help the tiny sobs that escaped on the back of every exhaled breath. His mouth tasted like copper.

Finally, Jack pulled back, and Timmy collapsed onto the mattress, too worn out to even tremble. Jack nudged him as he wiggled by to lay next to Nisha, cupping her breast and whispering something in her ear, and she grinned and said something just as inaudible back, and Timmy suddenly realized just how crowded a full-size bed was when it had three people on it. With an effort that felt heroic, he struggled upright and scooted his way down to the foot of the mattress, wincing as the motion made his cuts and bruises twinge. When he lowered his feet to the floor, he found that they were so numb he could hardly feel the roughness of the carpet.

The hand he raised to the back of his neck came away bloody, and he hunched over, elbows on his knees, fighting nausea and panic.

“John,” Nisha’s voice came from behind him, surprisingly soft, and he looked back over his shoulder at her. Despite her tone, her expression was anything but gentle - satiated, almost sleepy, but her golden eyes were dagger-sharp and the teeth that peeked out from behind her swollen lips were the fangs of a predator. “Go wash up, honey. You’re a mess.” There was laughter in her voice, and he had to swallow hard against the bile in his throat.

He took a moment to look at Jack, who was nestled against Nisha’s side. Blue eye, green eye, glittering bright; unblemished false skin secured by polished silver clips; an upswept muss of chocolate-brown hair, expressive eyebrows, wide slash of winter-white teeth for a smile.

It hurt, so he looked away. “Yeah,” he replied raspily, “yeah, I’ll do that.”

He got up and limped across the single room to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. The linoleum was cool, and he resisted the urge to lay down on it to see if it would soothe the single huge ache that his body had become.

Instead, he pushed his sweat-soaked hair out of his face, wiped his tearstained eyes, and stripped himself of the offending yellow condom before throwing it in the general direction of the garbage can, beyond the point of caring if it made a mess. The tiny shower called to him, but the mirror over the sink was louder, and he took a moment to assess his own reflection.

He looked about as bad as he felt.

His neck was one enormous bruise, smaller blossoms peppering his chest and shoulders like a heat map of his most sensitive spots. There were bruises on his hips and sides, too, patterns of four neatly spaced marks, and he knew there would be matching fifths on his back from the press of Jack’s thumbs.

His collarbone and shoulders were streaked with drying blood, and while he couldn’t see the bite mark on the nape of his neck he knew it must be ugly, as it was tender and still tacky to the touch, and he shivered as he probed at it gently. There was a second bite spanning the join of his neck and shoulder, less severe but still messy, and he counted the teeth marks with quivering fingers.

Raising his arms, he winced as he twisted to inspect the claw marks on his back and ribs, some of the clotting welts pulling open as he moved. They were ragged, raking across his skin in random yet mostly symmetrical patterns, and the sheer quantity of blood smeared across his sides made him feel sick. There were scratches on the sides of his ass as well, but they hadn’t broken the skin, four angry red lines across each cheek and hip.

The face in the mirror was the worst part. It always had been.

His lips were swollen and bruised to the point of purpling, a little bit of blood coloring the corners - apparently he’d bitten his tongue at some point without noticing. A heavy flush still stained his angular cheekbones right up to the tips of his ears, and a couple of bruises crept up from his neck to cross the hard line of his jaw. His eyes were downcast, brows furrowed in distress, and a few strands of rich brown hair fell free from the general tangle to hang loose around his face.

No, not his face - his false face, one green eye, one blue eye, long jaw and squared-off chin. The fury lurking in his chest began to boil over - fury that had been building for minutes, hours, days, weeks, since the moment he’d realized that he truly hated what he saw whenever he looked in the mirror. The heat spread across his shoulders, soothed his pains, lit a fire in the back of his throat that made him choke.

When he bared his teeth at his own reflection, they were perfect and shining white.

Timmy wasn’t aware of his fist coming up, made no conscious effort to swing, didn’t feel the shards of glass slicing into his knuckles as they made contact with the mirror. The sound it made as it shattered spoke to something right as the very heart of him - something sharp and sudden and reckless - the universal sound of destruction. The broken pieces filled the sink, scattered across the linoleum, lodged themselves deep into his skin. The blood dripping between his fingers felt very cold.

The wall where his reflection had been was blank, and he stared into it even more intensely than he’d looked into his own eyes. “You’ve got to end this,” he told the wall, clenching his fists.

“You can’t keep letting this happen. You can’t condone this. You can’t just give up who you are because you’re afraid . You’re better than this. You’re stronger than this. He can’t change you. ”

He leaned forward, pressed his forehead against the plaster. “The only one who can change you is you,” he said. His voice was a hoarse whisper, and for a second - just for a second - he felt like someone new. Someone faceless and nameless, someone who could become anyone. Someone free.

If he couldn’t go back to being the person he was before - and he didn’t think he could, didn’t think he wanted to, he’d been a shit person living a shit life and he wasn’t too proud to admit that - then he’d become someone else. It wouldn’t be the first time.

If that’s what it took to get out, he’d find a way.