"What the fuck do you mean I'm gonna die?" Jack snarls at the R&D scientist, his hand twitching with the desire to choke her.
"Well, uh, sir, the test shot that was supposed to be a simple, hm, engo -"
"Don't say it." he interrupts with a growl. He feels hot all over, sweat starting to accumulate on his forehead. He looks at the group of scientists - all terrified of course, because it's their fucking mistakes during a stupid body enhancement that was supposed to be simple that is, apparently, condemning him to a slow death while being horny as fuck.
He's going to space them all and if someone asks him - not that anyone would dare - "well Jack, what did you do with your entire R&D department?" he'd answer with "We needed some fresh blood and they were all fucking incompetent.
"Anyway, the, uh, mh, test shot, it had, well, unexpected effects. Your hormones are off the charts and the levels of hm, semence are -"
"I don't care cupcake, tell me how to stop it!"
"Well hm, the easier way would be to set some more tests, see how we can -"
"Go fucking faster - I am a goddamn hero and I'm not going to die of a case of blueballs. SO GET THE HELL ON WITH IT."
The scientist seems to shrink under his cold, hard gaze but Jack doesn't even care anymore because he's hot and not in the fun way, he's panting like a bull and his pants are starting to get way too tight to be comfortable.
At least the enhancement worked.
"We could -" Another scientist says, then stops. She's fuckable, he guesses, if it comes down to it. Still though it'd be too much like a reward, to get laid with Handsome Jack, and he doesn't want to reward any of these morons. "We could, hm, show you all the employees files. I mean, I'm sure there are a good number among them who have a good, hm, stamina and if they're among your fan club, they'd probably be honoured to have... huh... To be..."
He snorts. What a prude.
"Yeah, yeah, we get it pumpkin, they'd love to get fucked by Handsome freaking Jack." It's not a bad idea, and it's better than to fucking die.
If he could, he'd get Nisha, but she's down on Pandora and they haven't talked about booty calls that much since their break-up. So that plan is out of the window - like the R&D department once he's feeling less horny and more murdery.
"Get me those files - someone's going to be lucky today."
When Rhys receives the message from the R&D department, he's out with Vaughn and Yvette on lunch. He's supposed to be on break but well, there's the name Handsome Jack in the message - apparently, the CEO wants to test something and he personally selected Rhys to do it.
Vaughn, of course, isn't very enthusiastic about this.
"You could not go?" He suggests. Yvette looks at Rhys and shoots down the idea:
"Yes of course, refusing Handsome Jack is the best idea."
Rhys tries not to look too excited - he knows Vaughn and Yvette are worried (one more obviously than the other) - and simply shrugs as Vaughn lists down possible escape plans in between tiny cries at the idea of Rhys actually going and meeting a (probable) horrible demise at the hands of their personal hero slash devil incarnated.
"It probably has something to do with my echo-eye. I am the only one in the station to have one. If they're developing a new one, they probably need to run some tests with mine before starting the try-outs."
Vaughn doesn't look reassured but Yvette nods, and holds their mutual friend's hand when he tries to physically stop Rhys from going.
"I'll be back before dinner," Rhys says with a small smile.
He hopes so, at least.
There's no one to welcome him when he gets out of the elevator - no one in sight, and not a noise either. He wonders if he missed something in the mail, but something breaks in the next room before he can check it.
He's starting to be worried when he enters the room and, besides some glass on the floor, there's still nothing and no one. Maybe it's a test of some sort - to see if Hyperion workers are as brave as their CEO or something. He gulps. He's not a fan of tests, never has been.
Then he hears steps behind him - heavy ones, like the person is stomping towards him rather than simply walking. It's Handsome Jack himself, he realizes. The man... Doesn't look all that well - flushed and sweating, panting and twitching. Rhys tries talking (maybe it's part of the test?):
"Oh, hum, hello Handsome Jack sir! I'm sorry - I got the mail and there was no one to -"
Jack takes a step towards him. His pupils are dilated like crazy, his eyes staring into Rhys'. He swallows, feels nervous because - it's a heavy gaze, almost like Jack's evaluating on where to hit first to take him down quickly.
It reminds him of something, but before he can think further, Jack takes another step, prompting Rhys into taking one back. He tries talking again, anything to make the other man snap out of this strange trance he's stuck into.
"Sir, is, uh, is everything okay?"
Jack doesn't answer. His nostrils flare - is he... sniffing the air? - before walking closer again. When Rhys tries to step backwards, he hits the wall. He's near the broken glass and eyes it, wonders if it could serve as a potential weapon if Jack does try to kill him.
He realizes what Jack's behavior reminds him of - a predator circling a prey.
Somehow, the thought makes him shudder, rather than cry in terror (he's so fucked up, god). His breaths are quicker now, little gasps that resonate in the room, along with Jack's heavier pants.
"Hm - is it," He says, as Jack reaches him, their bodies so close he swears he can feel Jack's body heat, "is it hot in here or -" He whimpers, so loud it resonates, when Jack's mouth brushing his neck.
Jack is still audibly sniffing, exhaling with his mouth and the hot breath on Rhys' skin feels like lava. He wonders how that must look to an outsider - Handsome Jack acting like some kind of animal in heat and Rhys himself, flushed with arousal, backed against the wall, submitting willingly to his boss's sexual advances.
It feels like time has slowed down somehow, or stopped altogether, when Jack finally starts talking, his voice rough, lower than it usually is. It's almost drowned by the white noise in Rhys' ears and yet it feels so loud:
"Such a pretty sight..." The CEO growls, "I knew I was right to select you to come here..." He laughs here as Rhys shakes - wants more than this phantom touch against his skin.
He wants Jack to kiss, and bite, and suck, and lick, to take finally, everything that Rhys is willing to give (and more).
"You know what's great?" Jack casually continues, as if his lips barely there against Rhys' throat aren't driving them both insane (Rhys can feel Jack's crotch against his tight, how hard it is), "It's that you've been excused for the rest of the day. You're aaaaaaaall mine - and we're alone so don't worry about being too loud. I like 'em screaming anyway."
He stops there, drops a single kiss right where Rhys' pulse is, makes Rhys outright moans with this simple contact.
"Feel free to uh, cry and moan and scream, pumpkin."
And then he goes silent and to work.
He's everywhere now, biting Rhys' throat, sucking purple bruises, caging Rhys even more, a hand working on Rhys' shirt while another in his hair tugging hard to get better access.
Any tension Rhys had in his body leaves him and he leaves Jack do everything, manipulate him so they're flush against each other. He feels his mind finally shut up and concentrates on Jack - Handsome Jack - getting them both naked.
He only starts to complain when Jack gives up on simply getting him out of all the layers he wears to work and just, rips out his shirt, buttons flying everywhere and hitting the ground. Jack laughs at his complains, plays idly with the tie he lefts on until - oh.
Until he starts tightening it, until Rhys can't talk anymore, simply gasps for air, eyes filling with tears.
"Y'know," Jack says, freeing him, but only just so, any air still hard to get, "I'm on a schedule here babe, so, so you're gonna shut up and let me do the work, or better even, help me and get out of those tight pants. You're pretty, but not pretty enough to get to complain about how I'm - what was it - ruining a good shirt."
Rhys complies, not wanting Jack to get angry - angrier? It's difficult, arousal making him feel dizzy, and Jack doesn't help anymore, keeps his tie in his hand like a goddamn leash and staring hungrily while Rhys gets his shoes, then pants, then boxers off. He's about to gets his socks off - his very comfortable, amazing socks thankyouverymuch - when Jack gets tired of waiting and yanks on the tie, tightening it again. Rhys doesn't quite gasp, his air too short to manage it, but he still feels his mouth open in a perfect 'o' when Jack crashes his mouth on Rhys'.
And between violent kisses, clashes of lips, teeth and tongues, Jack mumbles sweet nothing, praises and slurs that makes Rhys even dizzier, makes him tumble and lean completely on Jack, who release his tie, - and his neck - puts his hands on Rhys' hips and hauls him up, their crotches right against one another, Rhys' legs wrapped tightly around Jack's hips.
Well, Rhys thinks as Jack goes back to assaulting his neck, at least he knows now that his fantasies weren't too far off. Jack's still entirely clothed, and the friction between Rhys' freed cock and the texture of Jack's pants - and his leather jacket, sometimes, is so dry it's painful, so he tries to move his hands, to get some of Jack's layers off, but the CEO outright growls, even more beastlike than before, and one hand snatches Rhys' wrist, so, so, tight, fingernails biting his skin, drawing little drops of blood which Jack looks at like it's the first meal he's seen in days, like he's starved for Rhys' blood.
And so Handsome Jack brings Rhys' wrist to his mouth, eyes locked into his, daring him to say something, anything, and he licks oh so slowly the tiny cuts, tongue darting in and out as he drinks the blood like a fucking vampire.
And Rhys moans, helplessly, feels himself harden even more, ready for anything that is more than this teasing - he feels like he's going to die - and he says so, his whimpers becoming louder and louder as Jack sucks a goddamn hickey on his wrist of all place.
"Funny you would say that kitten, because Daddy's actually dying to fuck you, right here, right now so let's do it." Jack says, lets him go - although he keeps a hand on Rhys' wrist. Rhys wobbles a bit once he's up again, still dizzy and weak and, so, so, hard. Jack tugs it and when Rhys doesn't move, snatches his tie again (the only item he has left on, oh god he feels like a cheap whore), tugs it harder and Rhys finally gets the message, follows quickly.
They move to another room, one with a bed in it - was this actually prepared? - as well as condoms and lube which Jack goes to immediately. Rhys stays put once Jack releases him, unsure about where he's supposed to go, what he's supposed to do.
(He does manage to see the condoms are "customized" and that worries him, a little, and excites him, a lot)
"Feel free to get on the bed," Jack says, waving an arm toward it, "get uh, comfortable and all. We're on a schedule."
Rhys startles, stops staring like a creep and walks slowly toward it, sits down almost like he's afraid the sheets are going to attack him. It's soft, way softer than the ones he has - he wonders where R&D keeps them, if they always have a bed ready for employees too tired to get back home -
"Eyes on me kitten."
Rhys focuses again, lifts his eyes and realizes Jack is naked now and oh how glorious he is. He has the look of someone used to get rough, biceps full, skin darker than Rhys' own, probably tanned by Pandora's sun. His cock is leaking too, and it's so big Rhys wonders if he could fit it into his mouth - he wants to try too, gets on his knees without fully realizing it.
He hears Jack's sharp inhale, the chuckle that follows. Feels a hand in his hair, a bit too tight to be comforting and opens his mouth wide.
It's dry, apart from the slit, and warm. It tastes like skin would, a bit more salty, but to Rhys it's like a taste from heaven because it's Jack's and he moans, loud enough that Jack reacts by tightening further his hand.
He guides Rhys, trusts his cock inside Rhys's mouth slowly, and it's strange, to feel him so careful, when not five minutes ago he seemed ready to tear through Rhys' clothes like a madman.
So Rhys takes the matter into his own hands, swallows once and then licks the tip, plays with it by rolling it into his mouth, before letting Jack fuck his mouth completely. He ignores his gag reflex - is actually pretty proud to say that his collection of dildo have prepared him for this eventuality.
Jack, it seems, is bigger than any of them and even with Rhys's mouth full, his dick isn't completely in it so Rhys caresses his balls, squeezes them softly and rolls them into his hand. Jack bucks up his hips once, twice, and Rhys swallows around his cock, feels saliva dripping out of his mouth and on his chin..
It's so, so good, even as his jaw starts hurting and it feels like he can't breathe even through his nose. And through it all, Jack talks, breathless:
"Oh son of a taint, you feel so goood, kitten, you look like you were made for this - such a good cocksucker huh? I was right to choose you - oh I'm gonna keep you, keep you near me all the time so I can put you on your knees right where you belong, so I can use your mouth anytime I waaaant, yesssss, that's it Rhysie, that's it -"
He comes without warning, right when Rhys backs down to breathe and it gets on his face, in his hair. There's a lot too - it's weirdly sweet, and he can't help but licks around his mouth, trying to catch every single drop. Jack's eyes are so dark, the pupils swallowing the colours, as they stare into Rhys' own. He looks like he wants to devour Rhys.
"Son of a taint," he says then, and his cock is already filling up again, hardening in Rhys' hand.
(He's not sure that's a normal reaction, but there's still a sweet aftertaste in his mouth, and it makes his mind go fuzzy around the edges)
So he moans, murmurs a "Sir, please sir" and Jack groans, takes him by the hair - it hurts and yet feels so good, there's definitively something wrong but what does it matter? - and throws him on the bed, climbs after him.
Jack's hands are everywhere, his nails leaving angry red marks on Rhys. One is still gripping harshly his hair, twisting his head so Jack's teeth can catch his neck, can leave bite marks and hickeys. It's indescriptible, the sensations it leaves, fire licking his flesh, pain melting into fiery pleasure. His voice is hoarse, he's not even sure if he's screaming or moaning or begging.
Up until Jack's hands - his fingers are so, so big, how did he never even noticed that - trail near his hole, smearing lube, so much lube. Jack is laughing at him, probably because Rhys tries twisting his body, to make him go faster, harder.
"Poor Rhysie can't wait to get filled with Daddy's cock, huh?"
It's weird, Rhys thinks, how he can't seem to think straight anymore. He can feel the fingers stretching him, is pretty sure it's not supposed to feel so good even though Jack is only doing quick movement, the bare minimum really, as if he wants Rhys to feel it - Rhys wants that too, so he doesn't complain, can't complain because Jack's mouth is on his, tongue invading inside, mapping and searching.
Jack's other hand is on his throat, not quite choking him but still firm, keeping him in place so he can kiss and take and fuck. Then he backs down, watches with hooded eyes Rhys catch his breath if only for a few seconds.
"Oh Rhys, Rhys, Rhys." Jack's out of breath too, and his eyes are even wilder now. His hair is out of place - did Rhys do that? Did Rhys make the big, bad CEO of Hyperion, the man that opened Vaults and fought against bandits and Vault Hunters, look like this?
He did, and this knowledge is enough to give him some courage, so he raises his arms, hooks them on Jack's neck, to bring him down and asks, in a low murmur:
"What are you waiting for?"
Jack laughs, sounds like a drowning man that is about to get ashore.
"You asked for it kitten."
He doesn't quite slam inside Rhys, mostly because the prep doesn't let him do that - Rhys' hole won't open enough. But it's still quick enough to cut Rhys' breath, to make him moan inside Jack's mouth when they start kissing again. Jack tries to laugh but he's breathless too.
It's hot, so hot, Rhys feels like he's on fire, drowning in lava. Everywhere Jack touches is another part of him that burns and he wants more. His hands are still on Jack's neck, nails biting into his back. His head is thrown back and Jack takes advantage, goes back to biting and licking and kissing.
The thrusts are quick and hard, but soon enough Jack has to slow down, hips shaking with exhaustion.
So he hauls Rhys on him, falls back on his back, with a sharp, satisfied grin.
"Time for you to earn your keep, babe. Get to work, chop chop."
And Rhys grins back, and starts moving, slowly, oh so slowly, watches as Jack's expression falls apart, smile exchanged for an open mouth and closed eyes - the face of a man lost in pleasure.
He whispers sweet nothing, sometimes, as he moves up and down, feels Jack's dick sometimes nudge his prostate, making the pleasure even more intense, the sensation of being filled to the brim even more amazing. And Jack meets his thrusts, not quite following the rhythm but still hard enough for Rhys to moan, and to ask for more, please more, oh god, oh Jack, give me more.
And then they're coming, not quite together but close enough that it feels like it - Rhys realizes Jack never used a condom when he feels something wet drips down his hole, can't quite bring himself to be annoyed because he's still riding the high of his pleasure, slumping down on Jack and breathing harshly against sweaty skin.
They stay together like this, a minute, then two, then five. Rhys doesn't know what to do exactly, how to act - he hasn't read the manual on 'what to do after your boss fucked you silly in the R&D department'. Jack doesn't say anything, but his hands are caressing Rhys' back, contact so slight it makes him shiver.
He can't help but wanting more, but doesn't know how to ask. So he doesn't move, savours the feeling of Jack's arms around him, and the softening cock inside of him, the come cooling on his stomach and inside him. It should be uncomfortable, but somehow it isn't.
What a weird day he muses, and can't help but laugh at the understatement.
"What's so funny kitten?" Jack sounds almost offended and it makes Rhys laughs harder which makes Jack move them around, Rhys back under Jack and Jack looking - not murderous, but weirdly amused. "If you think this is funny, I think you didn't quite get the message."
And Rhys laughs still, answers while hiccupping, "Then maybe we should do that again, so I understand it better."
And Jack answers, a weird smile on his masked face, "Yeah, I think we should do that." Then he kisses him.
It's been a weird day, Rhys thinks again, but a good one nonetheless.