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Sometimes it all makes sense. Jack's never been a religious man, but maybe this is hell. Whatever this shitty afterlife is, it's probably what he deserves; Five or six hours of mind numbing boredom every night as he watches Rhys drool on the ground, plush pink lips just slightly parted, body relaxed in a way that it never is when he's awake. It doesn't sound like hell, when he tries to put it into words.
Rhys's legs are spread, sprawled inelegantly on his back, head tilted back to draw all the attention to the soft flesh of his throat and the tattoo trailing up the side of it like a great big target screaming "bite here!" It's hell that he's here, in Rhys's head, no body of his own to pin Rhys down with, no teeth to sink into his shoulder, no hand to wrap around his throat and press hard enough to leave bruises along the sides. He flexes his fingers at the memory of what it feels like to strangle. He flexes his fingers. He flexes Rhys's fingers. He's found his loophole.
He double checks that Sasha and Fiona are asleep, triple checks Athena. They are so fucking dead if Athena catches them. Vaughn's a wildcard. He gives him a glance, but Vaughn's not gonna rat Rhys out, that much is guaranteed. He might do something weird like try to join in, though. On second thought, he double checks Vaughn. Yeah, asleep. Good.
He lifts Rhys's arm experimentally. Then he traces a metal finger softly along the side Rhys's neck. Rhys swats at him like a mosquito. He yanks the metal hand away just in time to avoid it. Good reflexes on this thing. He lightly touches the tip of Rhys's nose; swat . He touches Rhys's cheek; Rhys swats at him and mumbles some sort of half asleep complaint under his breath.
Though he could easily spend hours making Rhys smack himself, he refocuses. Their hand slips under the threadbare blanket draped over Rhys's midsection, popping his belt buckle and the button of his pants. It doesn't take long for him to realize that he's not getting these pants off Rhys's hips without waking him up. Whatever. New plan. Their hand rests against his inner thigh, caressing it through his pants. He can feel Rhys relax again.
Their hand slips between his legs, palm pressing against Rhys's cock through his pants and rubbing slow circles until he feels it stiffen up against him. Rhys's breath shudders and Jack persists, careful pressure, taking note of exactly which spots make him squirm. Rhys squeezes his thighs together, desperately seeking more friction, and lets out a tiny whimper. Then- Rhys jolts awake.
Jack can feel Rhys attempt to regain control of his own arm, and watches the way he tenses up in a panic when he fails.
"What th-" Metal hand clamps over Rhys's mouth. His stage whisper is 100% too loud for present company.
"Whoa there, kiddo!" Jack, fortunately for him, can talk as much as he wants. No one can hear him, or see him sitting at Rhys's side, but Rhys. "I'd suggest you get real quiet real quick if you don't want one of these lovely ladies to shoot you in the head for being a little pervert."
"I mean-" he laughs, "do you even get how bad this looks? In public? Outside in the dirt? Big oof , kiddo." Rhys is grabbing at the wrist of their shared hand with his organic one now, as though the adrenaline is going to make him stronger than metal.
He can tell that it's just killing Rhys to not be able to snark back. This is fun . "Come on, relax. You were really getting into it for a minute there! You know, before you woke up. I'm not gonna hurt you. Not gonna just tear it off , even though I probably could . Your arm's pretty frickin cool, honestly."
Jack finally takes their hand off of Rhys's mouth. Rhys opens his mouth to speak and then closes it again- repeatedly. Jack responds by laughing at him. "Seriously, this is gonna work out way better for you if you just lay back and let me work my magic."
Rhys seems to give in. It's hard to tell without him being able to speak. But, he stops attempting to argue, and stops grabbing at their shared mechanical arm. Their arm shifts, hand ghosting over Rhys's forehead, gently pushing a lock of hair back into place. Rhys seems to relax again under the touch. The hand returns to his thigh, the hologram of Jack still crouched beside him, watching, taking in the way Rhys squirms as he's touched.
Their palm presses between Rhys's legs once more, mimicking the identical gestures Jack is performing beside him. Jack's able to control the arm without moving his own, but it's easier to keep focus this way. Plus, it's fun. Rhys's eyes are wide, watching the hologram touch himself to the sight of Rhys's flushed cheeks, to the way he's clutching the blanket with his free hand like his life depends on it.
"Lift your hips for me, cupcake." Rhys doesn't. In fact, he looks increasingly alarmed at the realization that Jack is trying to take his pants off in front of three women he barely knows (and Vaughn.)
"Rhysie. Pumpkin. Do not make me do this the hard way. I've got a plan! Do what I say and no one's gonna wake up and Athena's not gonna shoot us in the face. Promise. Pinky promise." He lifts his hips hesitantly. It's all Jack needs; he pulls his pants and boxer briefs down on his hips just low enough for his erection to peek over the top. The blanket, along with the darkness of the night, still shields him from view despite the obvious bulge beneath it.
Their shared hand goes to his cock, gently ghosting along his shaft. Rhys's hips buck; he bites into his bottom lip hard trying not to whimper. Though Jack can't quite see what he's doing beneath the blanket, it's easy to figure out a technique- Rhys's body language is incredibly telling. He finds a particularly sensitive spot against the underside of the head of Rhys's cock and rubs circles against it with his thumb. A whine escapes Rhys before either of them can do anything about it; his organic hand slaps over his mouth even before Jack can bark the order.
Their hand is still, but still wrapped around Rhys's cock. Jack doesn't dare move until they get the vocalizations under control. "Losing patience, kitten. Keep that hand over your mouth or we're both gonna die. Do you get that? Are you grasping the severity of the situation?"
Rhys nods frantically, hand still clasped over his mouth. With his agreement, their hand resumes slowly stroking him. Jack is shockingly gentle, careful to angle the robot hand just so to slide smooth metal across his flesh and avoid any dangerous finger joints- He's turned it into an exact science, an art form, perfectly in tune with every inch of Rhys's body. It's easy once he falls into a steady rhythm, easy to focus on the arching of his back, the way his eyes squeeze shut, the way he bucks up against their hand.
"That's it, kitten, just relax for me. You're doing great… that's my good boy…" He notices the way the hand over Rhys's mouth grips tighter at the praise; he can't help to imagine the absolutely gorgeous sounds he'd be able to coax out of Rhys under more ideal circumstances. Someday . Jack's certainly not counting on this being a one off.
Their hand continues to work over Rhys's length, bringing him closer and closer to the edge. Jack can't take his eyes off him, hair tousled from the exertion, the soft pink of his flushed cheeks peeking out around his hand. He's hypnotized by the way Rhys's delicate hips buck hard against his hand, the way he squirms, thighs squeezing together- he wishes more than anything that Rhys's thighs were squeezing around his head, around his hips, anything. He's desperate for touch, desperate to flip Rhys over and fuck him hard into the dirt.
He can tell Rhys is getting close, the breathy gasps against his hand becoming more and more audible. That's a problem. Hand pulls away once more, resting on Rhys's hip. Rhys responds instantly, tensing up, grabbing at their shared wrist and trying fruitlessly to pull it back to where he desperately needs attention .
"Nah, no way. Not with all the noise you're making. Cool it." Jack's refusal is met by Rhys tugging hard again at their wrist. He sure went from "no" to "yes" fast. Jack rolls his eyes. He's considering giving in, giving Rhys one more chance to finish without waking up the whole group. Before he can actually decide, Rhys's autonomous hand is on his cock, stroking it fast and hard. Apparently, if Jack isn't going to finish him, he's made up his mind to do it himself.
"Hey!" Jack grabs his wrist and slams it into the dirt above his head, effectively pinning both arms there. "Knock it off!"
Rhys bucks his hips in disagreement, whimpering in overstimulated surprise at the feeling of the light blanket rubbing against the tip of his hard cock. The sound is enough to make Jack's head spin, quiet as it is.
"Okay, listen- I'm giving you one last chance. Shut up. I want to let you cum. You just gotta behave for me, kitten. Seriously."
Rhys nods frantically in agreement and, as Jack releases his organic arm, Rhys immediately clamps it over his mouth once more. He squirms in anticipation of the next touch.
Their shared hand returns to Rhys's twitching cock. He's dripping precum, so close that it's going to take barely anything at all to make him explode. Jack rubs their shared thumb over the slit, smearing the fluid around, testing whether he can control himself. Rhys reacts by tipping his head further back, eyes squeezed shut, trying desperately to stay silent. "That's a good boy…"
Rhys passes the test with flying colors. Jack wraps their hand around Rhys's length once more, jerking him off like he means it. All he wants now is to make Rhys cum harder than he's ever cum in his life. He wants what he's always wanted; control over Rhys, in every way possible. It only takes a few steady strokes to make Rhys see stars, back arching, coating the underside of the blanket in hot, sticky, cum that he'll have to find some way to wash out later without the others noticing.
Rhys goes limp from the exertion; Jack's never been more frustrated in his life. He'd kill to have a body right now. But, he isn't counting on his current state being permanent. He's going to find a way to get a body of his own, a full body. As far as he can tell, he has eternity to figure it out. "You owe me one, kid. Don't think I'm gonna forget about this."