Title: Break Me
Warnings: Language, rape (in progress), slash
A/N: This one hit me out of the blue. I just started typing and it practically wrote itself. I think it's a bit....different than what I normall write.
Told in Jack's POV, takes place right before he's marooned for the first time, and title nicked from a Savage Garden song. Date posted elsewhere: 12/31/06
I wish you could feel the sickening filthiness I feel right now. I'm sure you can see it on my face; how I loathe that the body can betray me. You shouldn't get the pleasure of seeing such vulnerability painted on me like a horrid cover.
The thing I hate and can't stop thinking about as you continue is that I want ya to do just that: continue. The longer you're fucking me brains out, the longer I can still claim the ship as mine. As soon as you're done, I know she won't be mine anymore; you'll see to it that she will never be mine again.
So just keep poundin' me senseless, no matter how much I detest it and want this to end. Take all ya want from me.
Just. Don't. Stop.
If I could burn you with my eyes, scowl at you, spit in your face, I would do it. But the few times I gave you a less than pleasing look when ya started, I was met with an unnecessary, forceful slap; I don't wish to add more pain to the stack I already have goin'. I'll just keep moaning on occasion and whimpering like a beaten cur; God knows the damn shame I have right now, and you seem to like those noises. Perhaps I'll use it to my advantage to keep you goin'.
That time I wasn't fakin'. Son of a bitch for makin' me enjoy that one. You're getting to know me too well in such a short amount of time.
I'm on fire. Are you? It's too hot; you're too close. I think my anger is contributing to the rise in temperature of my already sweat-sheen body.
That was interesting. I didn't mean for you to lick the sweat off of me. It did feel good, though-
Alright. Enough. I can't take anymore. You've succeeded at makin' me incredibly humiliated and disgusted with myself. Satisfied?
Stop. Get off me.
You don't call the shots anymore, Jack.
Please get off me? Please?
I hate your laugh. I hate the way you feel inside me. I hate the way you touch. I hate you. If I could work it up, I'd vomit right in your face because that's how sick you make me, you lying, thieving, back-stabbing, treacherous bastard.
I'm sorry, darling. I can't last any longer. I have to get him to stop, which means I have to lose you sooner than I was hoping. Forgive me. Don't lose faith in me though, love. I'll get you back.
Ohhh…….That familiar sensation. Finally you're done. Now just get up and away from me.
You're better than any whore I've ever had, Jack.
That's because you're too ugly for them to even try.
God damn tongue of mine. Always gets into more trouble than its good for. That hit really did sting.
Get dressed so you can face your death with a little dignity.
You're right on that one, mate. I do want to retain a little dignity, if I haven't lost it all already because of you.
Just wait; you will feel this awful taste in the mouth I have now when I come back for my ship.
The moment I get to that god-forsaken island, I'm going to start plotting your demise. You will die by my hand; I will see to it.
Now, if I can stand up straight and walk fine, it might make me feel a bit better; you really do fuck too hard…….