Smut on the pole

||Encounter||

A/N: I finally have time to write!! For now... Sorry. Also, I don't have anything against Jack's parents! In real life, they are extremely loving and amazing people <3. Just for this story they aren't.

Mark begins to stir, hearing faint whimpers in the background as his head spins, trying to wake up. Arm out searching Jacks side of the bed, finding him missing. His eyes shoot open as he rolls on his side to where Jack should be. He sits up, taking in the scene of Jacks body shape indented in the bed. Turning his head in the direction where he could hear the whimpers and muffled begs.

"Out of bed, now" a voice demands, the sound of a gun cocking making his eyes widen. He locates a darkly dressed figure. Wearing all black, his facial features looking like an older version of Jack with slightly baggier skin and wrinkles. His mouth in an angry sneer.

"W-What?" Mark questions. Trying to figure out the situation.

"I said, out of bed!! Do I need to get it through your head with a bullet?!" The figure ordered with a rhetorical question. Mark stands up with no further hesitation, balling his hands in fists. Mark looks down at Jack. His hands tied in front of him, ankles tied as he kneels in front of the figure. Jack swaying ill, looking heavily dazed and pale.

"What have you done to him?!" Mark spits. The figure chuckles darkly as he aims the gun at Jacks head. Mark recognizing it as a pistol. "No!"

"Or what? He's a disappointment to our family, he'll just end up disappointing you as well!" The figure snaps harshly.
"He'll leave you heart broken because all he wants is your pity!" He spits. Mark takes a step back, looking at Jack. Jack furiously shakes his head. His mind screaming and eyes wide and glazed with tears as they drip down his pale cheeks. Attempting to speak, trying to beg for Mark not to believe him, that he was wrong, lying.

"Oh stop it, you fucking slut! I should of known that you'd go for a guy you fag! I always knew you were a faggot. I never thought that I'd see the day that I'd see my soon in the Irish paper about becoming a sensational gay pole dancer! You've disgusted our family name Sèan! I can't believe after all those years that I raised you on my own... That of all jobs you could of chosen, you decided to become a fuckin pole dancer to entertain people like the little petty whore your mother was!" He spits nastily, barely taking a breath for words. Smacking Jack in the back of the head with his gun. Sending Jack into another dizzy spell, his body spinning and swaying worse as he looses focus on the room. Black dots and colors dancing in his vision.

"Hey! Don't dare speak to him like that! And stop fucking hurting him!! You must be this dickhead of a father that he talks about!?" Mark takes a step forward. His eyes flickering with anger. Cracking his knuckles before balling them in fists, tightening till his knuckles were white. His eyes shooting to the draw beside his leg, forcing it roughly open and grabbing out a knife. Jacks father chuckles again, sounding insane.

"Have you never heard of the saying 'never bring a knife or sword to a gun fight' ?  Looks like you made a stupid choice yet again Sèan" he grunts as he smashes his leg into the base of Jacks back. Making Jack arch forward with his eyes clenched shut, letting out a scream in pure agonizing pain that made Mark wince. His dizziness worsening with the throbbing hot pain emitting through his body.

"Stop hurting him!" Mark demands as he points the knife at Jacks father. Ready to strike. Jacks father lifts his gaze from his son who collapses forward onto the floor. The pain disabling him from sitting up. Curling himself into a fetal (ball) position, screaming and crying with the pain that overwhelms his body.

"Who are you to tell me what to do as a father?" He growls as he lifts the gun, pointing at Mark. "What gives you the right to order me to do anything. This is not your whore club, Mark. I'm not an employee that you can boss around and get laid with." Mark's body begins to shake in anger. Lowering his body, lunging himself and taking down Jacks father with him. Knife in hand as he stabs it down into the shoulder of the arm holding the gun.

"I'm Mark Fishbach, Jack's boyfriend, protector and carer while you were fucking around drunk and sent him to the middle of no where on a fucking plane!! I will tell you how to father you own son because apparently you don't know how to you fucking asshole!! I will care for him as long as I live!!"
His hand releases the gun, pain seeping through his veins the longer the knife stayed in. He lets out a yell beneath Mark, using both arms to his regret of the amount of pain greeting him. Managing to last long enough to throw Mark off, hurling him to the side as he rolls away, recollecting the gun in his hand and grabbing the knife with his left hand. Yanking it from his shoulder. Blood dripping constantly down his arm.

"That was the stupidest thing you could of done" he glares at Mark. Taking his foot back again, kicking Jack in the shoulder making him yell again. Sending another kick into Jacks ribs, his body convulsing with each kick. Each kick painfuller than the last. Jack sobs and screams through the gag. Clenching his teeth deep into the fabric to try lessen the pain of the blows. Wishing it was over. Wishing he'd just blackout.