Date: Wed, 11 Apr 2007 23:18:13 +0000
From: Kevin Berry <kgberrywriting@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Charlie's Secret Heartache pt2

This is a fan-fiction story. The rights to these characters belong to and
are copyright protected by J.J. Abrams and Damon Lindelof and I am using
them without permission. Please send feedback to
kgberrywriting@hotmail.co.uk , it would be very much appreciated!
Now, please sit back and enjoy...

Charlie's Secret Heartache pt2

Dawn was breaking over The Island. Some of the survivors were already going
about their business, going for early morning runs or picking fruit for
breakfast. In his tent, Charlie opened one eye onto the world, or at least,
the small part of it he lived in right now, and quickly closed it again.
Argh. Bloody brilliant. Morning had arrived once more. Charlie's stomach
sank as he realised he had been dreaming again. This time, it was the dream
where he and Jack were sitting (he blushed as he remembered it) watching the
sun set into the ocean.

"Jack, there's something I need to tell you," Charlie said, earnestly. He
was fiddling with a small, white shell and staring right at it, before he
looked into Jack's honest, 'I'm hanging on every word' face. "I... I think
about you. In ways men-" Then he would pause. In every dream, he paused
there. Because he didn't want to hear the next words, and filled with fear
and shame when he did. "I love you, Jack."

And then, he would see Jack's eyes - brown - look into his own, and they
said everything to Charlie that he was trying to tell Jack. Every feeling
reciprocated, every desire shared. Then their faces would - all slow motion
and romantic - move gently into one another, and Charlie would feel his
tongue in Jack's mouth and Jack's in his; his hand running over Jack's body,
through his hair; Jack's hand running down his thigh, brushing over his
crotch and back before feeling and clutching at Charlie's helpless erection.
Jack's hand would begin to undo Charlie's trousers, and although Charlie
would freeze with fear, he could do nothing except let Jack commence what he
knew would come.

With Charlie lying in the sand, Jack would run his hand over Charlie's ball
sack, tug the foreskin of Charlie's penis back, and once more look him in
the face.

"I can't do this Charlie." Jack's fated words: Charlie filled with fear,
unable to speak. "You're too afraid." All Charlie's feelings, then would
drain away, every one; the blood streamed from his face, but his amorous
desire for Jack was left burning even as the doctor walked away. Humiliation
filled the empty space in him as he lay, desperate, on the beach staring at
Jack's back heading towards the jungle.

He thought it was a stupid dream. Pushing his face into the pile of clothes
that made an improvised pillow, he recalled the fear he felt when Jack
rejected him. Maybe that bit wasn't so stupid. In his dream, it was his own
fault that Jack acted that way; he could sense the fear - the terror even -
in Charlie. Why did he have to choose - of all the men on the Island - the
hardest to get? The one burdened with all the responsibilities and hardship?
The one who, in many ways, was the least approachable?

He sat up in bed, and could feel his morning wood in his pale blue briefs.
He didn't want to, he couldn't, touch himself - not after that dream.
Removing the cover, he stood up. Burning orange sunlight lit his messy
morning hair, his bearded face, the sparse covering of hair on his chest and
legs; the smooth bulges in his underwear that were the source of all his
problems were brought out in sharp contrast by the shadows they cast in the
early light. Claire stirred behind him, but she did not wake. Quietly, he
dressed and brushed his hair, with its remnants of the pre-Island world, the
evidence that it did still exist left in its bleached blond tips.

Walking was Charlie's only release from his tensions at this point. Sure, he
could start playing the guitar and singing, but then he'd wake up half the
beach. So he walked down the beach, and up the beach, and down the beach,
recognising his own footprints on the way there and back, and all the while
he was thinking about Jack. What would he do? Like in his dream he was
scared - but he was scared to share his feelings with him. He could tell no
one about it; and even if he did have someone to tell, what would he say? So
he had to soldier on, keeping his feelings for Jack - he hated the sound of
those words in his head, which shouldn't even be there by rights - his
feelings for Jack locked up inside.

That day was difficult for Charlie. The most difficult yet, anyway. He
played on Hurly's golf course, he picked fruit, he walked and walked. He
made out with Claire. Nothing would get rid of the disturbing thoughts in
his head that he had feelings the way he did for Jack. Jack was everywhere,
even in the soft fingertips and gentle kiss of Claire. He was there, in the
back of Charlie's mind, pushing his way forwards.

So it came to mid-afternoon. The morning had grown into one of those
torturous days where time just doesn't seem to pass, so Charlie decided to
head down into the hatch and take a shower. Thoughts of Jack, squeezings of
the stomach and the accompanying shame went with him to the hatch door, and
into the underground living area. But there, in the hatch was a sight
Charlie had not expected to see.

Sat at the computer, the one which reset the counter, "the button" was Jack.
His white briefs and jeans were at his knees, and all Charlie could see was
that his hand was at his rigid cock and he was pleasuring himself. The
satisfied looks of a long-needed wank emblazoned on Jack's face burned into
Charlie's retina. Before Charlie could see any more, his social reflexes
made him turn around and look away, his face burning an incredible shade of
red.

"Bloody hell," was the first thing Charlie said. Seeing Jack like that threw
him off guard, and his cock was beginning to stiffen.

"Er... oh God..." Jack responded, hastily packing himself away. Equally as
caught off guard as Charlie was, Jack was slightly aroused at the idea of
being caught going at it by Charlie. "All put away," he called over, his
faced flushed and breaking into a wide grin.

"So I guess you caught me at it, huh?" he said.

Relief enveloped Charlie - Jack was neither suspicious nor angry at him. And
now he knew Jack was taking the realistic "hey, we all do it" approach.

"Not getting any either, eh?" Charlie responded as he turned. He couldn't
help but look at the sizeable tent Jack's dick was making in his jeans.
Having been packed up so quickly, its shape was still clearly visible
through the material. It was making him extremely aroused, and it was all he
could do to hope Jack wouldn't notice.

Jack smiled at Charlie's witty remark. Thinking of Kate, whom he had been
moments ago before Charlie's interruption, he replied, "No, I'm not getting
any either, Charlie." His eyes, though, looked Charlie up and down. Was that
an erection he could see in Charlie's jeans?

Charlie grinned, and stuck his hand in left pocket to conceal his excited
state. "Then I guess we're in the same boat." He was amazed at how easy he
had taken this situation.

Jack found confirmation of his theory when Charlie's hand, and his erection,
disappeared from view. For some reason, Jack found his cock had not yet
begun to soften, and he desperately needed to shift it. "Are you here for a
reason, Charlie?" He asked, trying not to sound too accusational and
failing.

"I was just, erm... hoping to take a shower," he said, pointing in the
direction across the room. "Would you warn people, you know if anyone
comes?" Charlie was referring to the system that if someone used the hatch's
shower room, the person on button duty would make sure no-one else came in,
as the door did not lock.

"Sure," Jack replied.

Charlie carried on across to the bathroom, where he undressed, switched on
the tap and stood under the hot spray, allowing the water to run over his
head, torso, and down his legs, easing the stress of the day out of his
body. His dick was still rock hard, and Jack was still all that filled his
head. But now it was an earthy, lusty presence rather than a lurking and
secretive one. He had seen Jack's cock, and it was pretty much as he had
imagined it. The bushy, black pubic hair. The wide, veined meat, perhaps not
quite as long as he'd imagined, but not far off. 8 inches, maybe, to his
imagined 9, but what's in an inch?

He closed his eyes and worked Dharma Initiative shampoo into his hair,
stepping blindly into the flow of the water and allowing it to rinse away
the soap; now the fragrance filled the shower room and it relieved yet more
of Charlie's anxiety. He reached for the Dharma shower gel, and began
working it into his arm pits, then into his chest, tweaking his pink nipples
as the hot water ran sensually down his body and over his fully erect penis'
head. He recalled the time, a few weeks ago, when he had jerked off in the
jungle, when his mind's eye had let him become Jack for a few wonderful
moments, and remembered the chest hair and muscles he had felt. Gently,
slowly he began pulling his beloved foreskin back and forth under the flow
of the water, as the soap washed down the drain.

Quietly, the sliding door of the shower opened, and through the steamy
glass, Charlie could make out that a man had entered. Hardly even emerging
from his fantasy, he continued gently masturbating as he called "Who's
there?"

"Relax, Charlie it's just me," Jack's voice replied. He sat down on a stool
that was by the shower glass.

"Oh," Charlie replied. He got back to washing himself, but secretly
pleasured his cock while washing it. "Hey, I'm sorry for walking in on you,"
he said, but even as he said it, his mind was imagining the doctor at it,
gently raising and lowering the foreskin of his big dick and emitting low,
rough groaning sounds, tweaking his nipples as Charlie was doing.

"It's OK," he replied. Jack removed his sleeveless T-shirt as he said this;
a well-muscled set of pecs beneath was covered in a layer of black fur. His
stroked and scratched his hairy, flat stomach absent-mindedly. "Hey, we're
both guys, and I bet you've seen a guy jacking off before, right?" he called
through the glass. Jack began to unbutton his fly, and quietly unzipped it.

Both disturbed and aroused by the clouded image of Jack undressing, Charlie
decided to carry on talking. "I suppose you're right." Charlie recalled his
teenage friend, Alex Hughes, masturbating with him in his bedroom when they
were 15. He was raised as a Catholic, and the whole thing had been a
thrilling and dangerous venture.

"Did you like it?" A practised hand ran up and down the length of his
manhood in his briefs through the open jeans, feeding a patch soaked with
precum around the head.

"What?"

"Did you like seeing him jerking off, Charlie?" Jack stood, removing his
trousers. His leg muscles were also well built, as Jack had a passion for
running.

"I, I guess so-"

"You guess so, huh?" Jack was beginning to sound aggressive and mad.
Removing his white briefs, Jack released his fat, veiny, 8 inch cock into
the shower room, his balls dangling free. His breaths were becoming shorter
and had an edge of roughness to them. Stepping forwards, he opened the
shower door and pushed his body up to Charlie's, their dicks rubbing, Jack's
bell sticking into Charlie's stomach. His large figure dwarfed Charlie's
completely, bigger in height, broader in the shoulders, muscles well built
and toned.

Charlie was intimidated by Jack's sudden bout of anger, though his body was
empty of the immobilising fear he held in his dreams. He looked Jack in the
eye, and saw madness and lust erupting inside them like volcanoes.

"You guess so?" Jack repeated, though quietly and with his mouth right by
Charlie's ear, who could feel the stubble against his skin. "Then you won't
mind this." Forcefully, he turned Charlie's head and kissed him on the lips,
his tongue invading Charlie's mouth; Charlie fought Jack's tongue in return,
the shower covering both in its wetness as they kissed. His arms ran up and
down Jack's back, and squeezed the firm cheeks of his butt.

"No, I don't mind Jack," Charlie playfully returned to him, after they
parted their mouths. Charlie wouldn't let Jack's haste ruin this. He wanted
a part in the control of events here. He kissed him back, though Jack broke
off the kiss.

"Eat my chest Charlie," he commanded, lust filling his facial expressions.
Charlie's eyes opened wide, he smiled, and he put one arm over Jack's
shoulder, the other around his waist, lowered his head and began sucking,
biting, chewing on Jack's large, hairy left nipple. Jack's eyes closed at
the sweet pain in his nipple, feeling Charlie's beard hair against his own
hairy pecs, and pointed his face upwards, out of the flow of the shower.

"That is fucking..." he mumbled, stroking Charlie's head and his smooth butt
cheeks. When he couldn't take more, Jack's hand moved Charlie's wet head
over to the other nipple and with his other he began to explore Charlie's
ass crack, feeling his rosebud, stroking up and down. Hot water cascaded the
two all the while.

Enjoying the firm manly hand exploring his ass for the first time, Charlie
was hungrily licking Jack's nipple, teasing, tasting and biting it, when his
head was pulled away. Charlie moved his hands to around Jack's waist, while
Jack held Charlie's upper arms in a kind of pseudo-embrace. He looked once
more at Charlie's cute face, wet from the shower, hair plastered down, his
adorable round nose dripping. "Suck me off," was all he said. It was not a
request: there was no declining, no refusal.

"What?" replied Charlie, dumbly. He could not believe what he was hearing.

Delight had just begun to fill his face when Jack shouted back at him,
releasing him from his grip: "Suck my cock, Charlie. Give me a fucking
blowjob!" Fear crept into Charlie as he stared at the raging pillar of power
Jack had become.

But the next thing Charlie knew, Jack's hands were pushing him down to the
hard and wet shower floor. Jack's massive, soaking erection was sticking
straight into his face, and all Charlie could do was take it gratefully into
his mouth, feeling for the first time the spongy stiffness of the bell of a
man's meat in his mouth, with the shower water running over the doctor's
hands onto his head. He started to suck gently on the tip. The dilute taste
of water and precum drifted across his tongue. Without so much as a thank
you, Jack began to push it further into his mouth, striking up a rhythm and
trying to fuck his face.

"Take it," the doc commanded, hands on Charlie's head. The shower on his
back gave a strange sensation as he rocked his hips for the blowjob. Charlie
gave a small groan, a pleasured groan to show is compliance, and began
taking a little more cock in, moving in time with Jack's rhythm. He had
never given head to another man in his life, and everything from the frenum
rubbing up against his tongue to the hands gripping and pushing his head was
new and exciting.

"Take it!" He repeated it more forcefully and pushed from the waist; now
most of the wide, 8 inch shaft was in Charlie's mouth. He slurped and
sucked, the dense flesh and slick, sweet sea-water flavour filling his
mouth, desperate not to let Jack down. But then he took too much, gagged,
and let it out to breathe for air.

"Fuck it Charlie! Suck me!" Jack grabbed his head and pushed it back to his
crotch, while Charlie pleaded with him:
"I just need... to breathe..."

But Jack didn't care. He had Charlie to give him relief; he thought Charlie
would understand a man's lust after weeks without sex, but it seemed he
didn't. The bearded face began to take his meat again, and in turn Jack
began to buck more heavily; Charlie moved a hand way from Jacks waist and
began to pump his own sturdy, 6 inch penis while meat filled his mouth.
Looking down, Jack saw Charlie pumping away, felt the mouth loving and
licking his dick like it deserved, taking it like Sarah, his ex-wife, never
had.

"Charlie..." Jack moaned as he sensed that feeling begin to well up in his
cock. Fire was burning inside, and was surely only being held in by the
tight enclosure of the Englishman's mouth.
More and more frequently, and slowly rising in volume, Charlie was letting
out muffled groans of pleasure, gagged by Jack's meat. He could feel Jack's
loose ball sack jangling against his hairy chin begin to tighten in
anticipation.

Jack let out a final, mighty grunt of ecstasy, with his eyes closed once
more, and a concentrated expression on his face. The fire in his penis
became semen, spilling into Charlie's throat. He watched him sallow as it
came, and saw his expression appreciating the taste of Jack's manliness
running into him, the hand working at his dick falling away to the side.

When the last drop had gone, Jack pulled Charlie to his feet, grabbed his
cock in his hand, and hammered his hand back and forth, quickly bringing
Charlie to orgasm himself.

"Oh, Jack, Jack I'm fucking coming! I'm... blood - bloody..." Strings of
semen flew through the air, and ran with the water into the drain. His knees
began to buckle, but Jack's arm restricted him, and they were all that was
keeping Charlie stable.

Charlie was half-shocked, half-surprised, eyebrows reaching skyward as he
stepped, smiling into the flow of water and let it carry the remnants of his
orgasm way. "That was... wow," was all he could muster.

"Yeah, you were great Charlie," Jack commended him with a dashing grin,
patting his hand on Charlie's upper arm. He layed his hands on either side
of Charlie's face and bent into a kiss. They stood, locked at the mouth, in
the flow of the water as their cocks gradually reduced in size. When he came
out of the kiss, Jack left the shower without another word to Charlie, who
appreciated his body, his brilliant ass, his muscled back, as he left. He
finished washing himself, and stood under the water again afterwards. He had
oral sex with Jack. Charlie couldn't believe it: he had come here seeking
peace of mind, and peace of mind he had achieved. But then, he questioned
himself, had he? If anything, sex with Jack had complicated things further.
Where did this let him stand with Claire? Where was he to go with the whole
Jack thing next? Right then, right there he wasn't fussed. Even the concept
of a guy having a brilliant ass was pretty much alien to him, especially
with his Catholic upbringing.

He stepped out of the shower and towelled dry. To his surprise, Jack had
taken his own briefs and left his white pair behind. Surely that was a good
sign, right? He pulled them on, and although they were a little big, they
fit him. He smiled as he touched the fabric where Jack's ass and crotch had
been, then ran a finger over his lips, wondering when next time would be.

To be continued...

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