Rating: NC-17! SLASH, PEOPLE, SLASH!

Pairing: JackRalph

A/N

Dedicated to my wonderful princess. Here you are, I hope it suffices… forgive the rubbishyness. I haven't written one of these for too bloody long.

Not put as 'Complete' because said Princess believes it isn't so. glares evilly in general direction

Disclaimer: I don't own Ralph, Jack, or Lord of the Flies. Sad, huh?

Fly

Ralph found his feet ploughed their way easily through the pig-run leading away from the 'meeting-place'. He could hear Jack's feet pattering softly behind him, but he blocked them out, trying to concentrate on his own hot, harsh breathing. Eventually the pig-run led deep into the thick forest to a place only Simon had continued to, and he collapsed against a tree, glaring in the direction he knew Jack would be coming from.

Despite a moment Jack gave Ralph to calm down, he soon burst through and stood, staring at Ralph, who gave him an equally annoyed glare before scowling at the floor. "Go away." Ralph almost snorted at the childishness in his voice; he wished that someone was here to scold him, chastise him, correct him… even Piggy would do… but, but, Piggy was –

"No."

He glared at Jack again, his throat burning with anger, but he managed to choke the words. "I hate you." He put into it every little moment of his sorry little life, every time he'd been told 'no', been denied, been stopped. He put into it everything he possibly could.

So why was Jack just looking at him with a slow grin and completely ignoring everything? Why didn't he just go away? Why wasn't it him down there, and not, not –

No, damn you. No. Don't do this to me.

Jack smirked. "I hate you too." Ralph couldn't help it; he flew at him, his throat choking on a snarl as his fist curled neatly into Jack's stomach. The other boy hadn't expected it, hadn't curved away, so Ralph's knuckles pushed into his chest. Jack made an odd sort of splutter, sinking to his knees with wide eyes. He seemed to be floundering on the floor, and for a moment Ralph remembered that he wasn't supposed to hit people. What if he'd hurt Jack?

How did he sink to this level? How did he become this monster? What separated him from the boy in front of him, the murderer?

He reached out a hand and took Jack's arm, but even together they couldn't find the energy to pull him to his feet. He was still pulling in large gulps of breath, so Ralph slumped down beside him and stared through the palm fronds to glittering silver stars. Jack's breath eventually came back, but neither boy felt particularly under threat from each other, so they simply waited together for something to happen. "You should go back to camp."

"Nnnh." He glanced at Jack; his eyes were closed, slumped on the sticky ground. "They'll cope without me for a while."

"Then I should go." Ralph stood up, casting a knowing eye around the jungle. He needed to get away… because, because, if he didn't, then tomorrow… he'd have to make a decision. And there were so many to make. Jack's hand wrapped around his ankle, and he looked down, but the other boy's eyes were still closed. He tugged gently with his foot, but Jack's fingers, chapped and coarse from spears running through, tightened angrily on him. "Jack."

"You're my little prize pig. I'm not going to let you go."

"Get off me," Ralph murmured, tugging again. "Jack!" It wasn't fair! Stop it! Stop it!

"Don't feel like it." Oh, the maturity of the situation. Ralph snarled, fingers curling into a fist again, but something about the serenity on Jack's face made him feel weak and… funny. Odd.

"Jack. Please?" Did the fingers slacken for a second? He couldn't tell. They were still wrapped around his ankle. With a twist of the wrist Ralph felt his feet tugged out from under him and fell beside Jack, who seemed to be utterly enthralled by this, his mouth twitching in a small grin. Their positions were reversed; Jack towered over him as he desperately tried to take in deep, steady gulps of breath. He wanted to say it wasn't far. He wanted to say he was so angry. But for now, he could do nothing, so nothing was what he did. Glaring at Jack would have to do.

---

Jack smirked as Ralph bored into him with a violently angry pair of eyes. He'd winded the boy rather efficiently, meaning he was under no direct threat from him. But… even so… he looked down at the other, and for some reason… well, the idea of hitting him again didn't really appeal to him as much any more. "Go away."

"No." Again, the ritual repeated itself. Jack smirked as Ralph snarled, squatting down tauntingly beside him. He waited for the 'I hate you', but it never came; Ralph stared at him with eyes of democracy, of level-headedness, of a bright intelligence that made his stomach squirm – with repulsion? Or perhaps… perhaps…

Ralph made to stand up, but his legs violently protested and he simply slumped beside him again. "You didn't have to."

Jack frowned. "What?"

"Do all those things. You didn't have to. So why did you?" Jack didn't like this. He didn't like being asked, being questioned. He did whatever he damn well wanted. Even now – even now – the use of the profanity made his gut wrench nastily. He wanted to tell Ralph to 'sod off', to 'bugger off', to – to – the nastiest words he could think of slipped through his fingers. He looked at Ralph again, lashed out an arm and sent them both tumbling to the floor.

Ralph stared up at him with an expression of resigned defeat, and for some reason that bloody annoying wrench in his stomach came back. "There's no one else here to do it for me."

"That still doesn't mean that you should have done it." Jack was getting annoyed; he ran a hand pensively through his long, bright hair, enjoying the way it slipped through his fingers. From the look of distaste in Ralph's eyes he could tell the other boy didn't like it, so he repeated himself. Ralph continued to glare, but didn't rise to it. That was the problem with annoying Ralph; he was always too 'high and mighty' to ever react to things. It annoyed him to hell. So he did the most disgusting, naughty, repulsive thing he could think of.

He closed the gap and rudely pushed his mouth over the other boy's.

Finally. Ralph yelped and pushed way, as hard as he could, sending Jack into a nearby tree. He ran the back of his hand across his mouth and looked triumphantly at the other boy, who had retched onto the ground before staring at him disgustedly. "That was – that was – "

"What?" Jack leered at him, and Ralph glared at him.

---

Hot. Electric. Wonderful. Somehow, the first few adjectives that sprang to Ralph's mind didn't seem entirely appropriate, so he merely spat out a more logical answer. "Wrong." But so much that had happened on the island was 'wrong'. With a morality as messed up as Jack's, why had he expected anything different? But…he didn't want him to be that close. It felt… wrong.

"Really?" Jack's leer was slightly more pronounced.

"Really." Ralph fought the lump in his throat so obviously brought on by disgust. Right? Disgust, that's what it was.

"I see." Jack's eyes glittered nastily.

"I hate you." He sounded so sullen, but he didn't know what else to say…

"I think you're lying." Jack's hand drew illogical patterns in the dirt-dust.

"I think I don't care what you think." Why don't you stick out your tongue next, eh?

"I think… I think you liked it." Jack's grin widened at Ralph's splutter.

"Shut up!"

"Prove to me you didn't!" Ralph couldn't. Ralph couldn't think, he couldn't breathe, he – he –

He lunged forward and pressed his mouth over Jack's. Neither of them knew it had happened until it did, and even after that they simply sat like that, staring at each other, their lips locked and their eyes crossed from the strain. Ralph tried to mutter something, but it was muffled and lost. Then, ever so gently, ever so strangely, Jack began to push back.

Immediately, his fingers caught fire. His mouth slanted quite naturally across the other boy's – ironic, considering this was anything but natural, out here in the very midst of it – and, somehow, following that primeval need, that instinct, they knew what to do. Jack's dirty, scratched nails bore red grooves into his cheeks, and his own hands ghosted over the other's chest, each touch bringing sunshine through his veins.

The moment their tongues met, he thought he must have died, because the euphoria that flooded him was so different, so strange; it wasn't the thrill of hunting, or of chanting, or of breaking the surface after diving to the bottom of the pool. It was consuming, burning, eating the backs of his eyelids as they clouded to red.

His head began to spin and he realized his error; pulling back, he struggled to fetch the air back into his lungs. The other boy was looking at him with a dazed expression that told him that he had been feeling exactly the same things as him. For some obscure reason in all this madness this sole thought comforted him. Looking at each other, with his hand still loosely resting with Jack's on the rough ground, they realized they didn't know what to do.

The primeval urge came to his aid again; he followed his instinct, pulling Jack closer to him, the desire to touch overwhelming his confused mind. The belt made of vines (he'd shown Jack how to make) and the tattered remains of his shorts (splattered from blood from the hunt, he noticed) were so easy to remove, and Jack seemed to understand this too, as he'd reached over and tugged down Ralph's shorts too. As they sat and stared at each other, their hands ghosting over their body, the full impact of their nerves hit them and they froze.

---

Jack's heart was pulsing erratically and his head was spinning nauseatingly as he stared back at Ralph. The only experience of… this… was – well, with their parents. But… he didn't want to do to Ralph the things his Dad had done to Mummy. He didn't want to hurt him. His hand wavered beside Ralph's face, and the other boy's breath caught in his throat.

He ran the hand slowly, tentatively across the shoulder, along the chest, counting the ribs. He ran a circle past his navel, and then, and then – he couldn't watch, his eyes flickering up to Ralph's – he dipped his hand further, lower. The other boy let out a keening hiss, his eyes brightening with understanding. "More," he rasped, and Jack complied; the other became a drowning puddle of groans and gasps. Jack marveled at the power he had over him; just by doing the tiniest of motions he could have the other begging for mercy.

When Ralph screamed he shot away, terrified; how had he hurt him? What had he done?! But the sticky warm stuff across his hand wasn't red, it was white, and it smelt funny. He looked at it distastefully, and then back at Ralph, but the other boy was slumped back, arms and legs spread, with a glazed look towards the stars. Wiping his hand on a leaf he crawled over to the other and stared at him with a sort of strange curiosity. "Ralph?"

The other boy let out a moan. "Jack…"

His eyes bright and curious, he ran a hand across Ralph's chest, and the other boy moaned again – but it wasn't like before, so many other times, when it had been exasperation or pain – this was a moan with keening, groaning, longing in every sound. This was a moan. "My turn." Ralph looked at him oddly, before sighing and propping himself up on one arm and looking at Jack. Jack wanted to know what Ralph was feeling; wanted to know what had happened to the strong, strange person squatted in the dirt. Ralph reached up his free arm and tangled his hand messily in the back of his hair; pulling Jack close, they kissed sloppily as Ralph ran his hands across Jack's body again.

Jack copied his example, running his hand across a sunburned, peeling back, down, further, until he finally ran his hand to the bottom of his spine. Following curiosity rather than anything else, he continued the journey, and was intrigued when Ralph's breath hitched again. "What – ah!" Jack had found something hot, wet and tight, and his complete lack of biological knowledge had meant that he took the child's way, and explored. His fingers wriggled in; this felt… incredible. His head was spinning, and he longed with the urge to touch more, be closer, be stronger – an idea hit him. He ignored the way Ralph was feebly beating against his chest, whimpering in protest, lined himself up with this place and pushed inside.

This time, he knew that Ralph's scream was purely pain. He could feel the agony in every syllable, and he loved it. He began to rock, backwards and forwards, electricity running across his spine in a delicious way. Ralph was sobbing and clutching to his chest, his rasps turning into moans, back to rasps again – but there were different moans, different screams, and as he rocked Ralph began to push back, towards, onto instead of trying to get away. Ralph screamed again, finally, his head flying back and everything clamped, hotter, angrier, and it swelled inside him, taking him over, making him –

Free. And so he flew.

---

Ralph looked at Jack in a way he'd never understood before and he'd never understand again. He just knew that there was something he wanted, no, needed, and Jack – only Jack – could give it to him. "Stay."

"No." And Jack spread his wings once more, disappearing into the haze of the jungle, and the hunt began.

A/N

Thanks for reading :)