Chapter Text
Helios. Handsome Jack’s quarters.
Rhys hears Jack try to suppress a snort into the palm of his hand. He lifts his gaze from the screen of his laptop and catches a glimpse of the book Jack is reading, the cover art visible on his side of the blue screen which he is reading from. It’s some old-fashioned sketch of a man facing the reader while pushing a woman down face-first to his crotch, in front of some flashy car. The cover is framed with red but the illustration is all in black and white, and Rhys can see the woman’s thong under her skirt where she has been forced to bend down.
Wait. Rhys knows that man’s face as badly drawn as it is, and as distracting as the rounded ass of the woman is proving to be.
“Are you reading another one of those shitty porn books?” Rhys groans, giving Jack his best judgemental glare. Hyperion has its own arm of publishers, and some authors on Helios have elected to write awful erotica dedicated to the big man himself. Rhys is no stranger to a bit of grovelling, both while climbing the corporate ladder and consequently while getting what he wants from Jack, but even for him this seems to be a new low.
Jack allows himself to laugh aloud, and he adjusts his reading glasses and clears his throat to give the young man a taste of the filth he is indulging in.
“Get a load of this, cupcake. I’m riding his face, and he laps vigorously at my sap-producing slot…” he begins, in a high pitched effeminate voice. The brief distraction provided by the rare and affecting sight of Jack in his glasses fizzles out instantly for Rhys.
“Oh god no, st—“
“ And my gushing virginal orifice is tight; tight enough maybe to suffocate a worm, and I whimper loudly as his tongue probes at my twitching honey hole. “
“Why are you d—“
“ Now I lay back on the silk sheets, baring my moistened crotch notch to Handsome Jack, as he looms over me with an air of intimidation, and he is sexy and scary all at once.”
“Jack—“
“ My master fists his thickening flesh sword with rapid ferocity, the tip already shining with glorious droplets of jizzum as he—“
“Hang on, what—“
“— as he rubs it into the spongy cap of his phallus with his thumb .”
It is now that Jack officially loses it, throwing the screen onto his desk in humoured abandon as his head shoots back with a howl of laughter, and Rhys finds it hard to stay mad (and even to stay hung up on the ridiculousness that is the word ‘jizzum’) when he is clearly this delighted by the trashy crap his employees write in their spare time. It was probably not intended to have this effect, but it is certainly entertaining Jack enough to have him grinning and guffawing in unhindered delight. Rhys hasn’t seen him this happy since Hyperion started to install nuclear prototypes on Loader Bots. It warms his heart in a strange way.
“That was the worst thing I have ever heard. Ever.” Rhys insists, rubbing his forehead with his fingers and sighing, hiding the growing smile on his face.
“Aww, come on, Rhys! Admit it - it’s a literary classic in the making!” Jack argues, lifting his glasses to wipe a tear from his eye, “Poor little minion. Definitely a virgin. No sane person who has ever actually fucked anyone writes shit like this, do they?”
“I…. I can’t say I would know.”
“Oh? I would expect you to be the first to put your thoughts to paper and cash in, given your firsthand experience with the real deal.” Jack replies, his elated smile becoming something a little darker as he meets Rhys’ eyes. His mismatched irises sparkle behind glass lenses.
“What can I say?” Rhys retorts, smirking right back at him. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
Rising from his chair, Jack takes his time crossing the room to Rhys, each step measured like a panther closing in on its prize. When this had first started, Rhys might have shied away, and a blood rush of crimson would have filled his cheeks as Jack neared. Now he dares not break eye contact and issues his own challenge against Jack’s already assertive show of dominance.
A large hand cups Rhys’ chin and forces him to lift his head as Jack towers over him. He tips Rhys’ face to one side and then the other, apparently examining his features, perhaps searching for that aforementioned blush he so enjoyed seeing.
“Maybe we ought to show them how it’s done one day, Rhysie.” Jack suggests, his voice low and gravelly, at an intimate tone even though it is only the two of them in the room. “I could fuck you in front of everyone on Helios from this exact spot. We could send a live broadcast to every screen and every ECHO device on the base. No one would question the truth; that Handsome Jack knows how to fuck, and that you are mine.”
A delighted thrill sends a telling shiver up Rhys’ spine at the thought, and his eyes close and his mouth falls open in a silent sigh. Jack takes the opportunity and crashes down upon him in a rough bruising kiss, with catches of teeth on lips and a firm hand keeping him there. Rhys lifts his own hands to pull at Jack, bringing him closer until he hauls Rhys to his feet. Jack releases his chin only to wrap his thick arms around Rhys and crush him to his chest, still kissing him without more than a moment to breathe in his ferocity.
“You’d like that, huh?” Jack asks as he moves away from the kiss. He begins to push at Rhys’ shoulders until he steps back, moving across the room as Jack continues. “You kinky little bitch. You’d want me to fuck you in front of everyone? Let them all see you gasping and moaning for my dick?”
Rhys feels his back collide with the wall and suddenly Jack’s hand is around his throat, the vice grip of his fingers preventing him from taking on air. He chokes and gasps fruitlessly, much to Jack’s evident amusement. Rhys can see his own reflection in Jack’s glasses, his face reddening and his eyes wide.
“Oh sweetheart, don’t you look pretty like this?” Jack murmurs, brushing back Rhys’ hair with his other hand as he leans in close. In a gesture which is unusually tender and affectionate, Jack leaves feather soft kisses along his jawline and cheek, and then sucks on his earlobe before catching it between his teeth with a light tug.
A leg presses firmly between Rhys’ thighs, grinding into his hardening cock that is cruelly constrained by his tailored trousers. His prosthetic hand grips Jack’s wrist where he chokes him while the other pulls limply at the fabric of Jack's shirt.
“Here's the plan, kiddo - you're gonna go down on your knees right here and give me the best head I have ever had.” Jack says calmly, “Then you're gonna go back out there like nothing’s happened, even with your lips swollen from me fucking your face and your hair all messy where I've been tugging on it. Are ya with me so far?”
The pressure behind the choking eases slightly at the question and Rhys manages to nod before Jack’s hand obstructs his breathing once more.
“You are gonna meet me in my office three hours after you step out that door. I'll be waiting for you. That big old desk might have my name on it, but I’m gonna have you all over it, baby.”
At that, Jack fully releases his hold on Rhys. The red in his face floods into his paled skin and he draws in desperate breaths, slumping to the floor just as he has been told to. Jack’s fingers comb his hair in a sign of approval as Rhys wastes no time in unfastening Jack’s belt and pants. His thick cock springs loose from the fly as soon as it is undone - Jack has a thorough dislike for underwear when he knows Rhys is going to be around.
With his left fist large enough to satisfy Jack’s length, Rhys wraps his lips around the girth of his dick and uses the cool metal of his left hand to tease the sensitive skin just under Jack’s balls. He feels the man react to the touch and hears him hiss lightly at the sensation, but he is not told to stop. Encouraged by this pleasured silence, Rhys moves his hand away to take Jack wholly into his mouth, the head of his cock brushing against the velvet softness of Rhys’ throat as he swallows him down. He hums around the satisfying weight on his tongue, and is rewarded by the hand on his scalp giving a harsh tug on his locks.
“Such an eager little cockslut, huh? Fuck, your mouth feels so good around my dick, Rhys. I bet it feels good, doesn't it? But it's gonna feel so much better when it's inside you.” Jack huffs, keeping Rhys low on his prick, guiding him by his hair as his perineum is repeatedly caressed with the icy cool trace of metal fingers. “Bent over my desk, bouncing off your perfect perky ass….”
Rhys hums again, and the press of his prosthetic fingers becomes firmer, with a new rhythm to match the bobbing of his mouth along Jack’s cock. Jack draws himself out of Rhys’ mouth with a satisfying pop before propping his head against the wall and holding him there so he could fuck his face, the prominent veins of his cock throbbing against the sensitive skin of Rhys’ lips. Rhys fights the urge to gag, thankful that Jack could be more forceful with him now that he had built up a resistance. The crown of Jack’s prick keeps pushing at the back of his mouth, but he takes it willingly. His hands have dropped to his sides for now - Jack’s increasingly laboured breathing means that he is getting close. His glasses have slipped and they balance precariously at the end of his nose, but he makes no effort to let go of Rhys in order to move them back.
“Fuck, I'm gonna cum down your throat. You're gonna swallow it all, aren't you? Gonna swallow my cum, bitch?”
With another moan around Jack's dick, Rhys affirms his consent. Not that Jack is asking for it in the first place.
Several more thrusts have Jack reaching his climax, and he grips Rhys’ face to force him into taking the full length of his cock as he cries out and groans, rocking out the shocks of his orgasm. Rhys swallows obediently without choking once, relishing in being fucked and abused in this way by none other than Handsome fucking Jack.
He is helped to his feet, and Jack straightens out Rhys’ ruffled shirt and tie as his cock still hangs half hard from the fly of his pants. He finally adjust his glasses, and then stands in his signature pose with his hands on his hips, made somewhat comical by his dick.
“You remember what I told you, kitten?” Jack asks, and if Rhys didn't think he knew better, it almost sounds like a cooing sort of tone. Still breathless, Rhys nods and offers Jack a shaky smile. He's more than a little proud of himself right now.
Jack grins back at his continued enthusiasm, and then manhandles Rhys into facing the door with a firm grip on both shoulders before he releases him and smacks him on the ass. “Get going. And you better not be late, cupcake!”
“ And as I left him behind me, feeling so very used and absolutely loving it, my mind wandering on what would come next, I was unaware of the smile Handsome Jack wore - wearing little else - as he watched me leave.”