Undo the asker’s bottoms with your teeth while making eye contact.
“Hm. Well, uh, that’s awfully daring indeed. Fine, but I am so docking your pay after this.”
Jack pushes Tim over to fall onto his plush office couch, grinning down after him. Hell, he wasn’t gonna refuse someone that good looking, now
was he? He settles his weight on his knees between his double’s spread
legs, keeping his thighs spread with the bruising grip of his fingers.
He moves the bright yellow shirt of the way the best he can, holding it
back with a hand and breathing hot on the exposed skin of Tim’s stomach.
It’s easy enough to pretend it’s actually himself and not just someone
he’s paying to wear his face.
“Y’know, I actually had a dream like this once, but it was uh, more the other way around, if you get what I’m saying.” Jack
stops hesitating and bites into the warm leather of the other’s belt,
tugging it free in inches, his teeth and the chin clasp on his mask
clicking hard on the metal of the buckles. Once he’s gotten that out of
the way he licks his lips and looks up at Tim through his lashes,
trying his damnedest to look as debauched as possible. This is a dare
after all, and hell if he isn’t going to give it a hundred and ten percent. His very pride is at stake.
The button of Tim’s jeans is a little more
difficult (he’d really have to get Nish’ to teach him the trick to it).
It takes a few tries, but he’s enjoying the way Tim shakes underneath
him. He manages to pop it and does a little mental celebration. Shuddup,
he’s a master at this. He remembers the eye contact part of the dare
again as he goes for the zipper, clenching the tab hard between his
teeth and going oh-so slow. He lets out a noise when he reaches the
bottom, almost hurting something as he pulls away in victory.
“Yeah! How impressive was that, huh?” Jack pats Tim’s leg in a ‘hit
the showers, boys’ move. “On a scale of one to a gazillion how turned
on are you, be honest.”
Do a bad impression of the person who asked you the dare.
Jack laughs and slaps his thigh. “Oh, this’ll be good!” He turns around and takes a dramatic breath, like an actor composing himself before a scene, and drags the steepled fingers of one hand down the air in front of himself in a zen-like fashion. He was most definitely going to get slapped for this, so why not make it count, right?
He turns again, glowering menacingly with a raised eyebrow and pretending to lift a cowboy hat out of his eyes with a finger. He can’t keep the grin off his masked face as he points his ‘guns’ around and ‘shoots’ the invisible bandits around him, making pew-pew noises as he does so. He does a full circle before blowing the ‘smoke’ from his finger pistols and makes like he’s spinning them around before miming them into holsters like an old-fashion movie cowboy.
He starts to wrap his arm in a bow— “Oh, wait! I almost forgot.” He winds it back and jerks it forward hard, imitating a whip crack sound and yelping, and then mimes something incorrigible with his fingers, making more juvenile screaming sounds and raspberries. When he’s done bouncing around like a child he rolls his hand and resumes his dip, thanking the non-existent crowd. There aren’t any roses, but the floor is probably going to have a lot of red on it in a second anyway. Worth it.
Take off an item of clothing every time someone says your name.
“Well, no one’s said my name yet, so— wait does it count if I say it? What if I read it??” Jack puts his head in his hands and groans. “Okay— as much as I’m sure you’re all dying to see me naked, nobody say my name!” He slams a hand on his desk. “It’s too cold on Helios for this shit!!”
“Uh, crap, okay. Do you mean like dancing, or—? Whatever, I can do that.” Jack removes his brown jacket and flings it haphazardly over the back of his chair before pushing his sleeves back up to his elbows. He breathes out as he sits on the polished floor of his office. There’s a large complaint stuck on his tongue but he doesn’t voice it. Who’s idea was it to do goddamn dares anyway? He wasn’t a kid!! At least the dare wasn’t like, eat a bug or something equally horrible and below him. Whoever it was, he was so going to fire them. Out of an airlock.
He stretches forward, managing to touch the tips of his leather boots and really feeling the burn of it. My god, he thought, this is embarrassing. He used to be a lot better at this, he swears!! He makes a loud frustrated sound and lays on his back.
“Okay, y— you know what! Shutup.” He points an indignant finger to the ceiling. “I’d like to see you all do better!!”
“He
threatened my paycheck. Nothing personal but— Jack. /Jack./” You see
him scrunching is face. “Jack… Jack. Jack.” His face looked
uncomfortable at the last one.
“Jackie, Jack, Jack~” Nisha drawled happily. Payback was a bitch.
“Jack? Who’s J A C K? Did you forget my name?? Tsk tsk! It’s Handsome Jack, baby! Looks like you missed out on your opportunity, there.” He blows a kiss at the screen. “Maybe next time!”
“Pillow princess, can’t even see past that gut any more, can ya babe?”
“Oh my god, how very dare you!! Obviously you need to do your job better. Your job being keeping me in shape with various uh, bedroom exercises. So technically, any ‘gut’ I have, which I d o n ‘ t, is your fault, not mine!”
"Jack--- /Handsome Jack./ For the love of the Almighty Robot Policeman just strip for my paycheck!" All he wanted was to get paid. Why did his paycheck have to be hostaged for the sake of a dare?
“Okay, I’ll give you that one.” Jack takes off his jacket and tosses it at him, aiming for his big fat head. “I wanna see that dry-cleaned and back to me by tomorrow!”
“Your name?” She spits, leaning forward as the mirth gets lost for a wild expression of carnal anger. “Is whatever I fucking say it is. Now start stripping— or I will take care of that on my own.” It’s a threat, a very real one.
A shiver runs cold-then-hot down his spine, and he instinctively backs up from the predator facing him. Should he poke the beast? He’s dug quite a grave for himself already. Goddamned if it wasn’t hot as hell though. “I’m, uh, open to suggestions.”
He clenches his teeth to fight the cheeky smile that threatens to spring to his face at the command to strip. He just stands there silently, waiting and biting his lip. He’s morbidly curious to see what she’ll do if he disobeys her. He’s got a couple ideas, though. He mentally goes over his will.
“Uhhuh. Well love, I can string you up and fuck you all night long. Doesn’t matter if when you’re done you stuff your face with doughnuts and pretzels.” She remarked crudely. “Unless I start gagging you more often…”
“Well, maybe you should! I mean— wait, noooo, dooon’t dooo thaaat! Also it’s not my fault all the cooks here suck. I swear, it’s like nothing but junk food stuff! The workers are more efficient when they’re hopped up on sugar and caffeine, apparently. Whatever, I don’t hear anybody complainin’ but you.”
Jack stares at the offending fruit on his desk with a scowl. He wasn’t too big on fruit in the first place, but this— this was just madness. “Where did you even—? You know what, nevermind.”
He rolls it towards himself and picks it up, flicking out his favorite knife to cut away a chunk of the yellow skin. His favorite color too, how ironic. The acid in the air hits him before he can even get it to his mouth, burning his eyes with how strong it was. He really didn’t want to know how it’d feel on his chapped lips, (Nisha likes to bite, and so does he). Even withthe mask on, he really doesn’t wanna do this.
“Okay, no.” He throws it somewhere behind his chair, enjoying the splat it makes on his planet-view windows. He’d get someone to clean it up later. “Not doin’ that. Is there like uh, a penalty game or something? That isn’t ridiculous or painful?“
Jack stares at the offending fruit on his desk with a scowl. He wasn’t too big on fruit in the first place, but this— this was just madness. “Where did you even—? You know what, nevermind.”
He rolls it towards himself and picks it up, flicking out his favorite knife to cut away a chunk of the yellow skin. His favorite color too, how ironic. The acid in the air hits him before he can even get it to his mouth, burning his eyes with how strong it was. He really didn’t want to know how it’d feel on his chapped lips, (Nisha likes to bite, and so does he). Even withthe mask on, he really doesn’t wanna do this.
“Okay, no.” He throws it somewhere behind his chair, enjoying the splat it makes on his planet-view windows. He’d get someone to clean it up later. “Not doin’ that. Is there like uh, a penalty game or something? That isn’t ridiculous or painful?“
“Okay.” He replied nonchalantly, seeming /way/ too prepared for that response.
“Eat it from the other end.” He replied, straight-faced as he reached for his drink, and briefly hid his smirk by downing it.
“I– Wh– I-I–…” Jack sputters in response. “Tell me you didn’t just tell me to shove a lemon up my ass,” he blinks, dumbfounded. “I’m gonna– Oh mygod.” He can’t even come up with a good threat in response. A lemon!! Seriously!!
“Get outta my office!!” If he still had the stupid fruit in his hands he’d fucking chuck it at Wilhelm’s dumb head. He opts for a pad of sticky notes instead. Close enough, but god, he wishes he had something heavier.
Give the person who gave you the dare a slow, sensual lap dance.
Jack bites his bottom lip, circling the spot where she sits, watching him intently, waiting for him to show his stuff. He’s never really done this before, but he knows how it works. He’s stripped down to just his jeans and the ever-present Hyperion issued shirt that’s rolled up to his elbows (so not that stripped, but he likes it better when she does it). The way she’s looking at him, smug, and like he’s a goddamned feast she’s ready to devour, makes sweat drip down his back, the room feels way too stuffy and now he’s nervous, and he’s never nervous, but Nisha makes him feel all kinds of thing he usually doesn’t.
He plucks her weathered mauve cowboy hat from her head and sets it over his own, his arms sliding around her shoulders and leaning down so he can whisper where only she can hear. “I think I kinda like this dare.” He kisses her tanned neck when she leans into him, closing his eyes and enjoying the quiet moment between them. He slips away to saunter back around and swing a heeled boot over so he can sit over her legs and sliiides slowly into her lap, as close as he physically can. This really would be better with music, but he didn’t have time to set anything up.
He works his hips, going as slow as he can manage even with the liquid heat crawling up his spine. He’s suddenly very glad for the mask over his face; it was starting to feel way too hot under his own skin. His mind won’t stop traveling to all the other fun things they could be doing, but oh yeah, he’s supposed to be doing a lap dance or, something. He can’t remember anymore. He makes a low sound in his throat when he feels her fingers grip his hips and wow, he really wishes they were somewhere more private right now.
Jack clears his throat, feeling a little lightheaded from how close they were, (god, was he w e a k), he looks at her without bothering to hide the pleading look in his eyes. “So can we uh, call it a night and move this to the bedroom—- or would you prefer the ‘right here, right now’ approach?”
Jack doubles over, almost choking on his damn potato chips when he reads the dare. He recovers after a few minutes of giggling and slapping the top of his desk as he tries to get his current mouthful down before he opens his lips to speak. “Ahem—! Okay, that one’s pretty damn funny. I mean, I hardly have to fake it with a face like yours, but I’ll give it a go.”
He pushes his snack away and sits back in his chair, taking a deep breath before scrunching his eyes closed and making increasingly loud moaning sounds that trail off into more giggling. “Holy crap, I can’t even do it!” He licks his teeth and his masked lips pull up into a smirk. “Tell you what, you get over here and I’ll show you what a real orgasm looks like.”
Jack looks hard at his other self. “Well, technically you don’t have to— I-I mean—” Shit, He is in trouble. Of all the things to— He sighs hard, making a loud frustrated noise as he puts his hands over his face. “Okay, okay!!” The last dare he tried to skip out on almost got him in some very hot water involving a lemon shoved into inappropriate places. He doesn’t want to even begin to imagine what kind of penalty game his future counterpart would come up with.
He sinks to sit on his heels and looks up at the other man with a scowl that’s way too much of a pout for his own liking. He clenches his teeth and scoots his knees across the floor until he’s more or less crawling towards the other. (It’s more of a sad slinking, really, also no he’s not blushing, shutthehellup). “There, you happy now? Also I swear to god if you try and ‘pet’ me I’m going to bite your damn fingers off.”
Please don’t get a sexy one, please don’t get a sexy one, he mentally pleads. There were some things he just wasn’t prepared to do, even for a dare.
Say what you find the most attractive about the person that asked you the dare.
“Uhhhm… Okay, that— really could have been worse.” He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a heavy breath of relief. At least it doesn’t say sexually attractive; he probably would have taken a gun to his own head. “Alright, uh, you…” He looks Angel over, scratching the back of his head. This was his daughter for chrissake, how the hell was he supposed to know what to say—-?
“Well, you’ve got my genes, so that’s a start, and I’m goddamned amazing so, can’t go wrong there! Uh, lets see,” He knew he shouldn’t have made this little stunt public— “You’re eyes! You’ve got my eyes. So yeah, uh, very pretty.” He was going to murder his secretary.
“Mmmm, yeah. I kinda’ do,” he retorts. (Worth it? Definitely worth it.) The punishment for failure to comply was definitely WAY worse than the act itself; in that regard, he was proud his young, impressionable self was just biting the bullet and handling the matter with some measure of dignity. However dignified one could be, crawling across the floor like that. Alternatively, some part of him was a little disappointed — and here he was with a clever penalty to exact upon young Jack, had he stubbornly refused to go along. Way to stifle his creativity, brat.
“Pet you !! Now, why d’you say that?” He wonders, light of tone and bright of eye — — the look he gets, right before he does something TRULY conniving. “Everyone knows, you can’t go an’ pet a wild animal before its been PROPERLY BROKEN.”
Jack clenches his teeth hard and absolutely glowers at the other man. Oh, now that was funny. Hi-fucking-larious. If he thought he could talk down at him just because he was ‘older and wiser’— boy did he have another thing comin’. Things that involved teeth– and lots of bleeding. He eyes the ring on the other man’s hand and works his jaw, debating whether or not it’d actually be worth it in the long run to take a finger (or two). Probably not. It’d still be funny though.
“Oh, yeah?” He sits back on his heels, momentarily forgetting that the dare was more or less over and he could stand up now. “And how ‘dyou plan on doing that, hm?” G-o-d, was he going to regret this later.
“Angel—- how many times do I have to tell you that this line is for emergencies only? Snack food doesn’t count!!”
“It is an emergency. I’m hungry.”
“How hungry are we talkin’ here? Like ‘skag that hasn’t seen food for a week’ hungry?” He sighs. “Alright, I’ll bring you some gummy bears. But that’s all the sugar you’re getting for the rest of the week, understood?” His tone is stern, and he leaves the ‘no exceptions’ hanging on the static of his ECHO communicator.
“Also let me know if Mr. Breakfast is skipping out on you, baby. I’d bring it to you myself, but well—- y’know how it is.”
Her teeth are bared and she’s leaning towards Jack like a wolf at the end of it’s tether. Like an ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟ that’s about to gash it’s fangs and ʙɪᴛᴇ the hand that’s feeding it.
(Truth be told? There is only an illusion of a leash, and she’s holding herself back on the whim of tormenting him verbally. It’s so very ꜰᴜɴ.)
”—and do the ᴄᴏᴍᴩʟᴀɪɴᴛꜱ of anyone else matter?” Nisha ventures, those golden eyes dilating as they study him. Waiting and ready for him to say the ᴡʀᴏɴɢ thing.
Jack smirks at the display. He is so very tempted to be bad– to bare his neck for the alpha in front of him just to see if she’d bite. Nothing was more fun than Nisha when she was all riled up.
“No one matters as much as you do, babe.” His voice is sticky sweet and his smirk a poor portrayal of feigned innocence. He’s practically batting his eyelashes at her. It wasn’t a lie; he couldn’t care less about any of those poor suckers. As far as he was concerned, his girlfriend always came before they did.
The speechlessness alone was so worth it that he just let the notepad flop against his grin and hit the floor.
“Didn’t know you were that weak willed in truth or dare Jackie. You opted for the penalty” He taunted.
“Come on. Pick an end. I’ll even warm the lube.”
“Well you better pick a different penalty, ‘cause you aren’t coming anywhere near me with that thing.“ Jack huffs. He– alemon, for chrissakes!! He’s into some kinky shit, he’ll admit– but sticking highly acidic fruit where the sun don’t shine was far from being on his list.
“Besides, I can think of all kinds of things that would be… w-a-y more fun.“ He has a whole closet full of them, in fact. He just hopes Wilhelm will take the bait.
Wilhelm looked down at the cup of salt. and then back up to Jack with a bored look. Without breaking eye contact he picked up a spoon and scooped up the tiny grains of future pain and lifted it towards his mouth. He stopped short, looking at back at the poor, abandoned, lemon. Wait. Why should he go through with it when Jack already pussed out?
“Give me one good reason. I already know I win.”
Jack gives him an exasperated look and throws up his hands. “Friggin’—- okay!! Y’know what? How ‘bout I get the stupid lemon and you bring your stupid salt and I’ll order us up some Tequila blanco and we’ll make this a real party, huh?“
The last time he drank Tequila hadn’t ended so well, but hell, he’s already embarrassed himself enough with these stupid dares– why stop now?
✬ - For the muses reaction to yours coming into their bedroom late at night.
By the time Jack is hauling his arse away from his late night early morning project? Nisha is long since dead to the world and sprawled out over his lavish bed like a Queen on their throne. The door to his en-suite is left wide open and her clothes are scattered about his tidy space carelessly. The ‘slinger is passed out on top of the sheets– and a stolen yellow shirt is doing very little to obscure the fact she’s wearing nothing else aside from her panties.
It’s like she’s taken ownership of the space, his things– and him. A beautiful sight to be sure. The woman only shifts minutely at his entrance, a golden eye peaking out from behind dark hair lazily to regard him. Once she’s confirmed it’s him? She’s stretching with a low noise in the back of her throat and snuggling back into one of his pillows.
It isn’t often Jack actually makes it up to his own living quarters on Helios, especially after a long night of working. He usually just ends up slumped over his desk to regret it in the morning or– if he’s lucky– crashing on his office couch. The open door is a surprise, and it has his hackles tiredly raised until he sees the familiar articles of clothing leading to the even more familiar body laying dead weight on his bed.
He’s too drained to say anything witty or charming, though the thought does cross his mind. Instead he quietly shuffles over to the large piece of furniture and flops down face first, bouncing it’s current occupant gently. For a moment he doesn’t move, just enjoying the feeling and clean scent of his very expensive sheets afterwhat feels like literally days of being behind a desk.
He reaches a limp arm out to blindly search for his girlfriend before he finally drops into unconsciousness. His hand finds her bared thigh, and he slides it up to wrap his arm around her waist, dragging himself closer to her warmth. Jack makes a content sound as he wraps his body around hers to the best of his ability, tucking his head under her chin and burying his masked face into the softness of her (stolen) shirt. He’s out like a light not even aminute later.
( Wrinkles. His nose. Because this one also isn’t… much of a dare either. Who wrote these? )
“Going right for the throat, eh?” Jack arches his brow, and stuffs his well-abused list of dares into his back pocket once more. He barely needs to look at it now, he’s memorized all the dares and their corresponding numbers. Young Hotness got the massage dare, which, really. It’s not much of a dare at this point. It’s more like a fucking excuse for him to get his hands all over himself. (Like he even needs the incentive !! )
“Still dogging at me, huh.” Jack sneers, heartily amused and more than a little endeared. He’s never going to let Young Hotness live that down now. He paces briefly, snagging one of the more comfortable looking lounge chairs with his toes, dragging it away from the end table it’s positioned by. Then, he’s got a hold on Young Jack’s upper arms, and physically encourages him to park his ass in said chair. Prop his feet up. Get cozy. If this is the dare, he’s going to indulge in it a little bit.
“Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes, old man.” Jack’s grin is all teeth as he snarks at his future counterpart.
It pulls into a tight lipped scowl at the others jeer; he’s still pretty sore about the whole dog thing. He watches, interested and arms crossed, as his other pulls up a chair and makes an indignant noise when he’s pushed bodily into it. Having future Jack where he can’t see him always makes the hairs on his neck stand on end. He wonders just what the hell he’s gotten himself into this time.
The ghost of fingers on his skin makes him shiver, gives him goosebumps, and now he’s really concerned. He wants to ask what– to protest– but the arms draped over his shoulders cut him off. He’s suddenly very acutely aware of how close those fingers are to his throat and just how much damage they could do, depending on his other’s mood. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t one hell of a turn on, though.
“You relax–” He mumbles under his breath, sinking lower into the cushion of the chair. The hands in his hair make him pause, and suddenly it’s like other Jack is physically pulling all thoughts from his mind, each stroke leaving him blissfully blank. He makes a throaty noise and feels himself relaxing quickly to the touch, like those large hands have put him under some sort of spell and he wants to ask just when they got so good at this, but all that comes out is another low moan. Usually his hair would be off limits (excluding Nish’ and well, himself, he guesses) but the gentle push and tug was enough to make him swallow any protests lingering in his throat about messing up his image.
Pressing, searching fingers, knowing just where to squeeze, and he’s going slack-jawed, eyes closed. He lets Old Busted Hotness manhandle him where he pleased, despite whatever instinct yelling at him otherwise. “Yeah, I’ll, uh… mmf–” grunts as the tougher knots in his shoulders are worked out, too distracted to even speak properly “-dooo that…” He was going to give whoever came up with this dare a friggin’ raise.
“Mmm, Tim. Timmy Timmy Tim.“ Jack takes a sip from his drink and bares his teeth as it goes down hard. He’s only on number three but it’s starting to hit him.
“I like Tim. More than I liked any of the others. I mean– everyone wants to be me, cause I’m– y’know, I’m friggin’ awesome, that’s ah– that’s a given– but Tim– oh-o-no; Tim didn’t. That’s why I picked him, y’know.” He barks out a laugh. “He had no idea! no idea– what he was getting into. I wanted to give him that gift. The gift of being me.“ He leans back in his chair. “‘Cause that’s just how I am. A uh– generous guy.“
“UGH!!” Jack drops his head on the desk and repeats until it hurts. Why this !!
“That fucking, hunk of junk–“ He slams his glass down with a little more force than he’d meant to– scratch that he’d fucking throw it if he didn’t think he’d need the booze just to get through this one– preferably in Clap-Trap’s general direction. He rubs his brow with a thumb to fight off the dizziness. “Who the hell even thinks to program a goddamn dance protocol, I swear to fuckin’ god. There could not be a more useless robot.“
Jack purses his lips, pressing them to his almost-empty glass. “Great beard. Uhh–” He squeezes one eye shut, trying to think. “I like him. he doesn’t ask questions, and he gets the job done.“
“Also his– robot bits are fuckin’ cool.” He covers his face. “Not like– god, that– that sounded wrong--, you all know what I meant!! Shutthehellup.“
“My– my baby girl.” Jack props an elbow on his desk and rests his forehead on his open palm. “My baby, my sweetheart– my angel.”
“I love her more than—– ‘d do anything for her.“ He covers his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose with a finger and thumb. “I’ll make a fuckin’ paradise for her; doesn’t matter how many people need to die.” And– oh, how many already had.
Jack laughs and runs his teeth over his bottom lip, exhaling loudly and looking up at the ceiling. “Mmm– how does one describe Handsome Jack?“
He swirls his drink, ice clinking on the glass. He’d gone ahead and poured himself another. Not because Old Busted told him to– if that’s what you’re thinking you can go ahead and park your ass in the Time-Out corner, (the Time-Out corner being a moonshot shell; he would shoot you out of the cannon if he caught you saying anything like that).
“Besides being the most Handsome, Gorgeous, Talented– and not to mention sexy– man in the entire galaxy? Other than myself, of course– but then again– uh, you are me,“ He still wasn’t exactly sure how that was working, but the space time continuum hadn’t imploded yet (and they’d done plenty of touching, believe him) so who was he to complain?
“He’s– he’s uh, something to look forward to. A good reminder that what I’m doing– that all my– all my sacrifices aren’t in vain– and I‘m already, exactly what Pandora needs.“ He tips his glass back and downs his drink in one long swallow before slamming it back down. His next words are said with more conviction than any others that have come out of his mouth in his entire life.
