Chapter Text
Nigel’s mum was already dead when Alex barged into their house. When he stumbled into the room he had been watching through the window, Nigel immediately focused on him and him only. He couldn’t help the little smile forming on his bloodied cheek.
“Jack. You made it.” He sounded sort of surprised, relieved maybe. But above all, his voice’s been wrecked. God knows if he was just sore from not talking in a while or if the strange creature of a man had in fact some sort of remorse hidden in him.
Though Nigel had eyes only for him as always, Alex’s wondered through the room and towards the father weeping abode his lifeless wife. He felt sick for a second, eighter from the gravity of their situation or because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have felt anything at all.
“What have you done?” He then asked but could not meet the other boy’s eyes.
It was too much. Why did everything have to always be fucked? Nigel replied in a matter-of-fact kind of tone, or just reassuring in general: “She was chosen.” It sounded a bit pathetic, small. Not at all the cocky bastard he was to Alex.
But apparently that wasn’t something his Jack has wished to hear at that moment or rather at all. The anger in him was rising. Surely just a few seconds and his insides would boil. He saw the gun on the ground just where Mr. Colbie has left it.
A Jack needed an instrument for killing after all. Didn’t he? It was quick and he wasn’t thinking. He couldn’t. All he heard was the blood in his ears racing and Nigel’s treacherous manipulative words: “Please. Just put the gun down.” He sounded worried, caring. Lying fuck. At his son’s plead even the mourning figure raised to attention.
“Just give it to me.” He continued in the same spirit.
Right then Alex had enough. Nigel was too close, too persuasive, too fucking insane.
“Don’t come near, no! Don’t come- Don’t come near me!” He was holding him at gun point. It seemed to be the only way how to keep distance. “Stay where you are!” The gun was heavy. He didn’t hold many weapons in his life. The trigged was sensitive, nerves out of control. Nigel’s father came to his son’s aid just at the right time.
He shrieked: “No!” as the gun fired and threw his own flesh in front of his only child. Wounded and dead in seconds, he went down together with all the sound in the room.
They both stared at the new corps, each one a different expression on his face. The silence went on until there was a small thud on the carpeted floor. Alex let go of the gun at last. That as if awakened their troubled minds as they once more sought each other’s faces. Looking at each other was never necessary, even before. Their thinking was the same, they were the same.
Nigel’s mouth almost smirked. He was overcome with emotions, but he chose to keep it down. He needed to guide his Jack through it. Light his way towards the greatness, their future.
Alex had several options. He decided to not ignore two of them. Eighter he could go out, leave the place and let that freak deal with it on his own. Or… he could bathe his Spade in the blood that they spilled together. He felt different from when he saw the other bodies. Looking at Mr. Colbie lying there not at all at peace, all in red. He was his first kill. He took this man’s life, and he felt it all.
The Spade just waited patiently, though he could not help admiring his Jack’s becoming. He wished he could draw his face scrunched in the deep thoughts. He had to look carefully so he might remember it forever, for their eternity.
It was quite obvious Alex wouldn’t run now, and maybe even that Nigel would finally get what he always wanted. His Jack. He was the most perfect companion. The God he longed for since he discovered the truth about the Templars and his birth right. About their shared destiny.
Alex finally moved from his stoic stand. The verdict was obviously the latter. He had so much energy all of a sudden, yet he was too tired to run. It was all Nigel’s fault and yes, he would pay for it.
He came closer to the other boy, stopping only when he was right in from of him. He still didn’t voice any of his thoughts, but the fact that he hasn’t left was enough to make Nigel smile. They never had to talk, for they understood each other so much. Well, at that moment it was not so crystal clear after all. The shorter, more insane boy didn’t have a clue what Alex planned for him just moments ago. No, that would be a surprise.
He grabbed Nigel by the neck. It was strange how natural it really felt. He wasn’t so surprised that he was still smiling at him. Even with a hand around his very vulnerable neck, he looked at him lovingly. Pleased even. And that pissed Alex more than anything in his life.
He guided the so-called Spade backwards so harshly towards his mother’s mirrored desk that he nearly tripped on the ugly old carpet. He quickly turned him, so they’d be both facing the small mirror. The angle nor height of it was right. He wanted the bastard to look at his own face, yet they could only see their chests rising and falling at the very same time. That just wouldn’t do. He changed the position of his hand on Nigel to the back of his neck and forced the boy to bend lower. He easily obeyed and held himself up by the arms of a wooden chair standing behind said desk.
Nigel was watching Alex closely in the reflection. He didn’t suspect Jack to do this, so the next part would be oh so exciting. Alex on the other hand wasn’t happy about the boy’s burning stare. He should have watched himself. It seemed the anger won once again.
“Fucking look at yourself, you sick bastard!” He didn’t shout it, but his tone was saying enough. He knew Nigel would listen, and of course he did just that.
The blue, cold eyes shifted from his captor and landed on himself instead. There was a change, his spark faded a little bit, Alex saw it. He thought for just a second, he managed to get the lunatic to reconsider this being the best and only outcome. But it was more than clear to him, Nigel was only saddened by the loss of a sight of his Jack.
Fuck it. There was truly no going back. No denying it. Let’s play.
Alex could at last confess to himself he was no better than the psychopath in his arms. Finally.
Jack smirked. He wasn’t sure if Nigel saw it, but it was so obvious to him that he would have felt it. Deep down. Always.
He was calm as ever. Maybe for the time in his life he saw clearly. His mind wasn’t clouded, his mind was Nigel. He hated him for it. He loathed him.
“I should kill you too. Hm?” He returned his grab to the throat once more and squeezed ever so gently. For now. “You wouldn’t even get a chance on your fucking Maraclea.”
He was teasing, or not. The outcome was the same. He could have done and said anything anytime, and his dutiful Spade would always nod his head and do as he is told.
Though at the mention of his beloved he did disobey his Jack for one side glance, who naturally followed his new and brief sight of interest. His eyes found the fresh corps of his mother, still lying on the bed with a hole in her stomach.
“Oh, I see. You’re so bloody twisted.” He mocked him, even chuckled.
That didn’t move with Nigel’s expression, not visibly. He was playing with fire.
“That’s what we’re here for.” He really believed it when he said it. But he was so very wrong.
“No.” It was very simple, yet it served its purpose. He had to educate him.
“You are here for me. To help me. To kill for me. To serve our cause.” He then bent himself over Nigel to whisper the last sentence directly into his ear. “Mine to command, mine to fuck.”
Their eyes met in the reflection. Nigel looked surprised, still happy, still weird, but he couldn’t just let that be said without a reaction.
“I gave you Susan.” Tone small, as if he was disappointed with himself that his gift didn’t please Jack.
“To hell with her if needed. She is not you. I want you, you sick fucker. Like you said, it’s just you and me for the eternity.” Look who was desperate now. Who felt incomplete. Though it wasn’t begging, no. He would get what he wished for, even if Nigel didn’t agree. He realized the Spade was sharing his gaze for too long. A Jack had to be dominant.
“If I am to be your fucking Jack, then fucking listen to me! Bend over the chair, look at yourself.”
And Nigel listened, his eyes blown wide all black and devoted. And fuck, if that didn’t arouse Jack to no end. The position was perfect. He was looking at himself, not moving, not even the slightest. His hold on the pale neck of his Spade tightened. It was sure to bruise. How lovely that will be. All marked up, all his.
He then moved his other hand down the boy’s back, admiring him. His touch changed its direction to the stomach instead.
“I once imagined stabbing you, right here. You’d bleed trough all the clothes, to my hands, to the rug. Everywhere would be a piece of you. Like her.”
“So beautiful.”
“More. More than she could ever be. You’d be divine.” That seemed out of character for Jack for sure. Maybe it was all a game. A way to trick Nigel? To punish him? But how could it be so, if everything he did and said felt so good, so right.
The boy was stunned but so very pleased. He did not say anything. He didn’t have to after all. If Jack had a plan, if he thought everything through, all he had to do was listen and obey. Maybe it was pure curiosity or a piece of resistance when he asked:
“What do you want to do with me?” Just a bit of disobedience then. He was always full of fancy words after all, but he remained in the position still and hadn’t looked from his own reflection. He did want to play. And he was certainly asking just to anger the man holding him further.
“I already told you, freak. You should learn to listen, or you’ll lose your speaking privilege.” He was humoured if anything. That just wouldn’t do. Nigel wanted his fury. He had to try more. So, he had smiled and opened his eyes wide as if had figured something major out.
“Oh, didn’t realise you were a fag, Alex. And here I was offering you poor little Susan. Maybe,” he chuckled, “I should have just given you more of Josh. Sure, a hand is nice, but not the part you need of your Maraclea- “Maybe that was the end of that sentence but who could be sure when Jack shoved Nigel’s head hard onto the desk. He was gripping him tightly by that raven hair and if he didn’t see red at that very moment, he might have enjoyed it.
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” He almost shouted and with every word he banged the boy’s head against the wood.
When he was done with that, he let Nigel’s head go. It fell and stayed still for a moment or two. Just when Jack begun to wonder if he already killed the boy, Nigel moved. Then he smiled. He was either crazy or had a concussion. It was very possibly both options.
“Why the hostility? You said you want to fuck me, Jack.” He said it in a small voice. He was not hurt, he even smirked. It must have been a way to manipulate his Jack.
They were still very close, touching at some places. Jack still had his hand on Nigel’s stomach and the one that he used to hurt the boy now travelled down and joined the other. But hadn’t stayed there for long. It went down. Inch by inch. At last, it reached wanted destination. His right hand hovered over the bulge in Nigel’s pants. And it was a bulge alright.
“You seem awfully excited here, little fucker. You’re calling me a fag, yet you’re fucking enjoying it, aren’t you?” He leaned forward, spitting that to the other man’s ear.
“Never said I wouldn’t.”
At that Jack squeezed Nigel’s cock through his trousers, making sure he wouldn’t get all smug again. “Well, you won’t. I guarantee you that.” The hold wasn’t all that painful, not what was Nigel used to anyway. But for a normal functioning guy it could not be pleasurable.
The Spade was not unbreakable and it in fact did hurt, but at the same time any touch from Jack felt like a caress by the God himself. He hissed, nevertheless. As sharp as the pain was, it disappeared in a second. Jack’s hold on him remained. How delicious. He sighed, a happy contented sigh.
“I already am.” He smiled, so sweetly, so innocently. His gaze lifted to his Jack; he needed a proper reaction. He needed to see the man in the reflection to fume, to spite flames in rage, to use that exact energy on him. Once Jack saw him properly again, he stopped at the sight. What a picture to behold. Nigel’s forehead was forming bruises on the right side, his eyes were so wild, so alive. Fuck, if he only wasn’t such a brat.
Jack’s jaw clenched highly, and he sort of scrunched his nose. Obviously from th pure rage, he was indeed displeased. His left hand shifted quickly in front of the other boy and slapped him across his sharp bloodied cheek. The angle was rather awkward, yet it suited the purpose just fine. With the violent gesture followed a sharp growl: “Look!”
That did really made Nigel look at himself again. Hopefully for the last time. He saw his Jack before; he felt him now still. That was enough. His eyes were full of tears, maybe it was the paint behind the slap itself, or the shock. It may just have been the pure bless that the twisted little head of his enjoyed more than it should be. He also saw the blue and red on his ivory skin. Deep down he knew this was right.
Just to be sure Jack held his face in place. He gripped Nigel’s cheeks and chin in left hand, that made the boy pout a little bit against his own will. At the very same time he started to undo Nigel’s trousers with his other hand. He slipped it in. His little Spade was truly excited. And not little, no. When he touched him, Nigel fought a bit to open his mouth in a deep sigh.
“Pathetic.” Jack chuckled. He really was pathetic. He could probably stab him, and the bastard would moan.