Chapter Text
Jack didn't worry about it at first. Everyone's got their kinks, you know?
It's not like it was exactly unheard of for a virgin to fantasize about someone else taking over to show them the ropes. Except. He kinda wanted them to show him the ropes.
Jack bit back a moan as he stroked a hand down his body, imagining how he'd squirm with his hands raised and pinned to the wall. How they'd tease him with lingering touches that never quite went where he wanted them fast enough. How he'd moan, beg, plead, and writhe until finally, finally, they took what they wanted, almost without regard for his pleasure- until Jack was a wrung out mess.
That was a good one. A common one.
Less common was that. . . he couldn't imagine someone who'd actually do the deed. Not even some fictional perfect placeholder. It wasn't like there was anyone who actually noticed Jackson Overland, anyways; brown hair, brown eyes, short: he might as well be invisible. So gradually, the fantasies were less about someone throwing him down and fucking him senseless, and more about it just. . . happening. That he'd wake up, disoriented, unable to see what bound him flat and vulnerable.
And out of nowhere, he'd feel- not hands, nothing as cliche as tentacles, just. . . touches. There'd be no one there to hear his moans, no one to beg to, just his own voice echoing in the dark. That added an element that made him shudder before he even wrapped a hand around his dick, free hand tangling in the sheets. That was good- his hands would be pinned, his legs unable to shift for leverage when it opened him up.
It'd take him, bring him to the brink of his capacity and push him over. He'd be powerless, at the mercy of this foreign and alien hand until it decided it was satiated. Maybe before he was finished, maybe after he'd already come till he was dry and just begging for it to stop.
Maybe he was messed up, but it was the fantasy of that edge of fear that got him off.
It wasn't like it could happen, so he wasn't too worried about it.
Until it did.
He thought he might be dreaming, that it was the prelude to another fantasy- but he'd never specifically thought of shadows before. Maybe it was the next logical step to being taken in darkness. He woke to the feeling of his arms being raised over his head, and blinked groggily as the phantom grip tightened on his wrists when he automatically tried to pull away. What-
A pressure rested lightly against his lips, like a finger shushing him, but there was no one there. Jack pulled harder against the grip on his wrists and got nowhere. His heart was racing before it even touched his legs, pulling his knees up and apart and somehow holding him there, spread and exposed with no grip to speak of. All he could see were bands of darkness where he could feel pressure, but not anything like texture or temperature. What the hell?!
The same nothing stroked his neck, ran sharp and feather light like nails over his chest, caught sharp and firm against his hip bones. He shuddered and gasped as it deliberately ignored his almost embarrassingly hard erection, running down the backs of his legs before almost pinching the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.
That got a yelp and an instinctive buck out of him, before the most-definitely-not-hands pressed his hips into the bed and teased into his mouth at the same time. It wasn't like being kissed, because there was nothing there. No taste, no texture, just pressure stroking against his tongue and the roof of his mouth, holding his lips open.
Jack completely lost the ability to focus on the fact he'd just been effectively gagged when he registered the pressure sinking into him. Gradually forcing him wider and wider, it pushed into him until he writhed, certain he couldn't take it any deeper. He'd never felt that full before, not with his own hands or toys or even fantasizing- and . . . then it moved.
Jack shuddered, incoherent noises escaping his throat as he was fucked in slow motion. God, what was even happening?! His heart was pounding faster and faster. He'd never. . . he'd never thought it would be like this. There was no one to even plead to: just him alone with the shadows.
He swallowed, throat tight, and felt the faint grip of the shadows against his neck. Holy shit- that was one thing he definitely had no experience with and he had no way of even knowing how far they'd go. This was beyond the realm of imagination as it was.
He tried to roll his hips into the motion, silently begging for it to speed up, to angle just that bit more deeper. Of course, it didn't, just stringing him along impossibly slow at the borderline of pain. He couldn't control anything about this.
And that was when he shuddered and trembled through his first orgasm, knowing it was weird and wrong and so completely scared out of his mind but holy shit-
The slow, impossible penetration stopped until he finished, then pressed just that much harder, that much deeper, and tilted the angle slightly so that his hips jumped. Jack moaned for it to leave him alone until he recovered, but it didn't- no, it kept teasing him, pressing against his prostate, finally brushing over-sensitized flesh until he was hard again far faster than he thought possible.
The second round was harder, faster, and left him seeing stars.
It was probably the third that meant he'd be feeling it for days.
Jack collapsed, sweaty, aching and boneless in the aftermath, and almost didn't register that whatever it was had left because he was too busy being terrified that there'd be a fourth. And that no matter how much he wanted to be turned on by that, he couldn't manage.
In the morning, the only proof he'd had that something had actually happened was how much of a wreck his sheets were and how sore his entire body was. It was impossible. It couldn't happen again.
It did.
Again.
And again.
And again, until he'd begun to forget how long this had been going on, but he just knew, that some nights, without warning, he'd be overwhelmed. And not just waking up in bed. Over his desk. Pinned against the door the second he'd closed it behind him. It was ever-changing and terrifying and far better than anything he'd ever jerked off to.
He shuddered in the grip of the shadows, spine arching just that bit more into the thrusts that pinned him to the wall. If it weren't for their filling his mouth, he'd probably be making enough noise to wake the dead by now.
That was also the only thing that kept him silent when he opened his eyes and realized he had an audience. Barely brushed by the spill of light through the blinds, there was the shape of a man. The sharp planes of his face just barely caught the light as he tilted his head forward, and flicked golden eyes over Jack's form impassively.
Jack's orgasm hit him like a sucker punch as the shadows twisted inside him. He lost it just as the man turned away dismissively, and by the time he got his head together, both man and shadows were gone.
Jack panted, ignoring the way he almost whimpered as he slowly collapsed under his own weight to the floor. What the hell was that?!
For a moment, he thought. . . it made no sense, with the way the light hit his blinds, but it had looked like the man's shadow fell across the floor towards Jack. Holy shit. Holy shit, he had no idea what was really going on, and no control over any of this. . .
And the worst part was that he knew he liked it.
The thing was, after that, he could envision someone pinning him to the floor. There was, apparently, someone who would hold him down and fuck him senseless, and he looked like a pale man wrapped in shadows. Jack wanted to taste his skin, feel if he was as cold as he looked, know what his cock felt like sinking into him, wrap his legs around that narrow waist. The shadows were still there, the same as before, but he craved that next step off the cliff of sanity into Something Else.
It wasn't the next time the shadows came, or even the one after that, but until he'd almost forgotten about the shadow man, and almost stopped hoping if not fantasizing, when he heard footsteps after the shadows had him exactly where they wanted him.
He stopped, deliberately just out of Jack's view, and Jack moaned against the pressure of the shadows. He finally took one step forward, into the light, and Jack's heart about stopped. Eyes of gold, ashen skin, the cruel smirk on his inhuman face. There was nothing about him that should be appealing. Except.
The man gave him a skeptical look, measuring his worth. "Well?"
His pulse pounding in his ears, Jack swallowed and found he could say one word.
"Please."