Chapter 1: My What Pretty Eyes You Have
Title: My What Pretty Eyes You Have
Relationship: Pet and Master
The mismatched gaze is cold upon him. Eyes that are not like anything a simple human should possess. The commando is unsure of what deal he must have made to get those demon eyes. Maybe he doesn't want to know. All he does know, is that they aren't the eyes of a man. He looks like a man, talks like a man, but when he offers you that thousand mile stare…you know he isn't. Not all of him anyway. Pieces may be. Parts may be. But it's not all human under those layers of flesh, muscle, and bone. Those eyes are colder, meaner, harsher. They steal the breath right out of your lungs and send your heart rattling in your ribs. They are hunters eyes. Predatory and sharp. They sway and glower with intelligence, each thought passing through them possibly more dangerous than the next.
He sits under that haunting gaze, feeling captured by it. Owned by it. Those eyes he hates…and those eyes he lusts after. Blue as sea ice, green as acid. Toxic, malevolent, fearsome. He hates to admit the fear that gaze brings up from his deepest parts. Like bile, he wretches it up, gags on it…chokes on it. It's too much to swallow. Too much to take. It's a sickly feeling that he has little control over. Hopeless, overwhelming, exhausting. The former Vault Hunter downcasts his eyes in the presence of the much heavier gaze. A vicious grin joins the haunting eyes, spreading across sharp features ever so slowly. All his ridiculously white teeth on display for the kneeling man. The commando swears he sees fangs amongst his smile.
His eyes dart away once more, settling on the folds of the man's shirt, the buttons of his waist coat.
There's the feeling of slender fingers sliding down his stubbled chin. Fingernails all cut short and uniform. The fingers give way to palm, and with a stern movement it forces the commando to look upward.
"Now, now kiddo, I want you to look at me while you do it." The Hyperion President swoons. The vault hunter hates how his voice sounds like velvet and honey. He hates that it sways him more than it rattles him. He hates that he loves to hate it.
The commando looks up from between the other mans legs. His shamed eyes meet with the vicious orbs scrutinizing him, observing him, urging him. The CEO looks sickeningly pleased, enjoying the pitiful nature clinging to the ex vault hunter.
The commando's tongue is heavy with the CEO, the corners of his mouth taught and stretched. There is hate in his eyes as he holds the stare the president offers him. So much hate.
"That's it pumpkin, lemme see those pretty eyes." He taunts wickedly.
Chapter 2: Can We Keep It?
Title: Can We Keep It?
Jack looked at the commando with heavy confusion in his eyes, one eyebrow cocked at the scene before him. Axton stood in the doorway, grinning that sheepish, guilty grin he always wore when he was up to no fucking good.
The commando was battle worn, dirt still clinging to the side of his face, blood speckled across his uniform front. But this was not the concerning factor for the Hyperion CEO.
The tiny bundle swaddled in Axton’s arms was.
Jack’s scrutinizing gaze darted from the bundle, to Axton’s stupid grin, then back to the bundle.
“What...the fuck...is that...?” Jack snarled over the hardcover book he had been reading.
Axton crossed the room and stood before the plush couch the CEO was splayed across.
Suddenly the bundle whimpered and squirmed, causing Jack to wrinkle up his nose in obvious distaste.
Axton tenderly unsheathed the precious cargo in his arms, pulling the blankets back only to reveal a small, helpless...skag pup.
Jack’s eyebrows knitted together tighter as he looked at his partner with stern eyes.
“Found him on the battlefield...his mama caught a rocket launcher round to the belly...I couldn’t just leave him there...” Axton said looking at Jack with pleading eyes.
He looked like a child, dragging in a stray animal, and begging his parent’s to keep it.
“Oh for fucks sake Axton no. No, no, no, no. A million times no. No way.” Jack breathed shaking his head and snapping his book closed.
Axton threw a begging, wide eyed look at the president.
“Awe c’mon Jack. The little guys all alone.” Axton said sadly, waggling his finger in front of the small creatures nose.
The tiny skag gurgled happily and nipped at Axton’s fingertips.
Jack made a rather disgusted face and shook his head violently.
“Jack.....have a heart.” Axton whined to his unamused partner.
“We could call him Tassiter.” Axton chuckled wryly as the small animal writhed in his arms.
Jack shot him a “go die” look from the couch.
“We are not keeping the thing, and that’s not fucking funny.” Jack snarled.
“Fine how about Hyperion? Call the little guy Hype for short.” Axton pleaded sticking his lip out dramatically.
Jack growled under his breath at his partner and rolled his eyes.
That night three bodies occupied the oversized bed.
The Hyperion president, The commando, and a little skag pup called Hype.
Chapter 3: Cold Fingers
Title: Cold Fingers
His hands are frantic. They act as if they have minds of their own. His body no longer controls the fingers that twitch, grasp, and squeeze. They are squeezing so tight. Too tight. Far too tight, and he knows it, but doesn't care. Palms clutch around their target, thumbs digging harshly into warm flesh. A thrumming pulse pounds against hisfinger pads. The pulse is frantic, terrified, panicked. The pulse accelerates the harder his fingers squeeze. He wants to stop. Somewhere deep down he does. But he can't. Those hands won't let him. They insist he listen to their orders. They know best. This is for the best. His teeth grit together, grinding against each other. Sweat runs down his brow as he fights to keep his hold on the flesh beneath him. He holds the other man down with his body. Legs spread across the gasping figure's torso, pinning him to the floor with his weight. The man beneath him bucks and writhes, hands scrambling over his wrists as he clamps tighter. His fingers are vices around the throat presented to him.With each breath the man takes, he squeezes tighter. There's the sound of a pitiful soul gasping for the oxygen that does not exisist. The wet, gurgling, sound of a life snuffing out. His eyes are wild as he watches the glisten slip right out of the older man's eyes. A wicked grin cracks across his false flesh. A mask worn to hide his shame. The smile hides any remorse he feels, the same way the mask hides his past. Green and blue eyes shake in his sockets. Wild, crazed laughter bubbles up from his core. It comes and comes and he cant stop. "That's it Tassiter...I love the way you die...." He cackles brushing soft fingers along the still man's lips.
Suddenly the man's eyes flicker open, eyelids snapping up to reveal cold desperate eyes.
"JACK WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" Tassiter yells at him, dark bruises around his throat, thick blood gurgling up from his stomach and running down his chin. Jack's eyes widen in confusion and panic. Suddenly it's no longer Tassiter beneath him. He looks down to find a panicked commando at the mercy of his brutal grip. Axton's nails scrape at Jack's hands around his throat, terror in his wide green eyes. Jack rips his hands away, a mortified look washing over his face.
Jack backs away from his partner, tumbling backward off the bed. He hits hard, biting his lip in the process. He spits blood onto the ground weakly, arms shaking, body trembling. Axton's there, because he needs to be, gentle hands rubbing over his frightened and confused partner. Jack whispers apologies through frantic breaths and tear stained eyes, and Axton forgives him because he knows he means it.
Chapter 4: Scraps
The room was filled with the luscious aroma of freshly cooked bacon. Jack inhaled the glorious morning smells fondly, letting them wash over his senses. He bit off a piece of bacon, snapping the crisp meat between his perfect teeth, and chewed thoughtfully. There was a small whimper from the floor below his feet. Jack’s eyes flicked down to the tile kitchen floor, sweeping over the small ridiculous creature looking up at him pleadingly. Jack took another bite of bacon and offered the young skag an unamused glare. “What do you want, you worthless creature?”Jack grumbled at the cooing animal. The skag pup chirped adoringly at the sound of Jack’s voice, its small dogtag jingling as it cocked its head. Jack’s eyes flicked across the kitchen to where Axton stood, frying another plate of bacon over the massive stove. The other man seemed to be completely wrapped up in his breakfast making activities. Jack looked down at the pup again, then to Axton, then back to the pup. Slowly he subtly offered a slice of bacon to the small animal underneath the table. The pup took the offering of food with an excited yip, slobbering over Jack’s fingers in the process. He scarfed it down and nuzzled against Jack’s pajama bottoms. The Hyperion President smiled smally and shrugged, returning to his meal. “I told you not to feed him table scraps.” Came the commando’s stern warning from the other side of the kitchen. “I have no idea what you are talking about.” Jack retorted stubbornly. Axton rolled his eyes. “Sure Jack…sure” Axton said chuckling.
Chapter 5: Flu
There was no sound within the confines of the bedroom. The lack of sound was actually a bit of relief in the events of things. Axton drew in a heavy, exhausted breath and closed his eyes for just a moment. When he opened them they instinctively drifted over to his left, to the sleeping man lying there. The fact that he was even sleeping was a small bit of a victory. His hair was in disarray, some strands sticking to his burning forehead slick with uncomfortable sweat. He was curled up in a ball, having pushed most the covers off during a spell of chills. He was adorned in one of Axton's oversized Dahl t-shirts having vomited on his own during the night. Axton knew if the Hyperion CEO had been in a better state he would have about ripped Axton's throat out for dressing him such attire. Axton smiled smally at the thought, but quickly frowned as Jack took a ragged breath in the throws of sleep. They both looked like a couple of war victims having just trekked through their first night of Jack's unexpected flu onset. Axton was on high alert, every sound Jack made he was ready to be there for him. To his relief Jack just curled tighter in on himself and continued to sleep. Axton needed sleep. His eyes were heavy, dark circles clinging to them like unwanted guests and his body was worn. It had been a long night on the both of them. The first part of it had consisted in Axton stripping the bed after Jack had thrown up in it, the second part had consisted in Axton begging Jack through the bathroom door to just let him help. Axton wasn't sure if Jack had just been too embarrassed or proud to let Axton in to take care of him. Too embarrassed because Axton had had to clean up after him and too proud because he refused to let Axton see him so pitifully hugging the toilet. That pride in Jack had only lasted so long before he was sobbing for Axton. Typical Jack of course. The third part of the night had been spent on the bathroom floor where Axton had dragged in spare blankets and pillows. Sleep had been out of the question with the hourly vomiting fits. Axton had just sat there rubbing the sickly other mans shoulders tenderly. Trying to comfort him with soft words, bringing him water and making him drink it to keep hydrated even with Jack's snarled protests that he would just throw it all up again. The night had been long. Somewhere between four and five Axton had moved Jack to the bed and set up a trash can there. His back was sore and aching from the unforgiving bathroom flooring and his body was frazzled from the lack of sleep. Axton wanted to sleep. Really he did, but his worried brain refused to let him do so. His eyelids fell slowly, just for a moment. He would just shut them for a little while, that was all. Axton had just began to nod off when Jack's movement shook him awake. He sat up quickly as Jack dragged himself over the bedside and heaved into the trashcan weakly. He rubbed Jack's sweaty back through the t-shirt softly.
"It's ok. It's ok, just let it out..." Axton whispered gently as Jack's body quivered pathetically. Jack coughed weakly and curled back up on the bed moaning out lowly. The corners of his tired eyes were pricked with tears onset from the dry heaving.
"Fuck...It hurts..." Jack moaned pitifully fisting the sheets uselessly.
Axton wiped Jack's hair out of his eyes and sighed out sadly.
"I know babe. I know. You want to try and get some crackers down? It will hurt less when you throw up." Axton offered soothingly.
Jack groaned out at the mention of food.
"I don't want to eat anything ever again." Jack moaned quietly.
"You gunna be ok for a second? I gotta change the trash bag. I'll bring you a cold washrag for your head." Axton whispered.
Jack just made a pained noise in his throat as a response.
Axton lifted up slowly, trying not to shake the bed too much and left his miserable partner lying there weakly.
He changed the trash and laid the wash cloth over Jack's feverish head.
Jack looked at Axton with tired eyes and the commando offered him a weak smile in return.
"You want the TV on?" Axton asked slowly sitting down on the bed again.
Jack nodded weakly.
Axton clicked the TV on and gently stroked Jack's hot shoulder.
He changed to some animal documentary and Jack made an approving noise from his pillow.
Axton chuckled slightly. Jack had a weird like for animal documentaries that Axton could never fully understand.
Axton set the remote down next to him and leaned back on his stacked pillows his eyes settling on the show, apparently something about Skag behavior.
Jack watched with heavy lidded eyes, his maskless face was tired and he looked like some sad thing that had washed ashore during a storm.
"Thank you." Jack muttered from the pillow softly.
Axton threw him a small, understanding smile.
"No problem babe." Axton said smiling gently.
Jack drew in a shaky breath and closed his eyes.
"I love you Ax." Jack whispered softly.
"I love you too Jack." Axton whispered back.