A Lesson in the Finer Points of the Roman Method

Title: A lesson in the finer points of the Roman method.
Fandom: Fight Club
Pairing: Jack/Tyler…or is that just Jack/Jack *giggle*
Author: Murron (kohl_boys_rule_all@yahoo.ca)
Disclaimer: I love them, but these characters are not mine. Please don’t sue me, I am not getting any money out of this anyway.
Summary: An angsty little thing. Jack learns a lesson from Tyler. My history teacher would probably have a coronary if he saw how I use the stuff he taught me.
Author’s Notes: I am very sorry to the amazing Canadian band Moist for ripping off some lyrics. They fit so perfectly, it would have been a travesty not to use them. Other than that, not much really.
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The light coming from the streetlight outside my window dimmed and brightened periodically and strange shadows ebbed in and out of view in the corners of the room.

I had been staying at the house on Paper street with Tyler for three, mayber wer weeks. After the first week, all the days seemed to seep into each other. Tyler didn’t own a calendar. Tyler didn’t own a TV. Tyler didn’t have electricity half of the time.

In the night in question, Tyler also didn’t have heat. The fall chill was beginning to slip into the room through it’s numerous cracks and holes and the temperature was dropping fast.

I lay on my back on the shitty mattress, which sat awkwardly on a lopsided bedspring in the corner of the room, and tried to think of anything but the chill of the room. It didn’t work. My cover, what appeared to be an army surplus blanket from some other time, was grungy and threadbare, doing nothing but giving me an prickly rash on every exposed surface.

I lay on my back letting waves of anger crash through my head, awake and dreaming of my last fight, a bloody affair that left a neat little scrape along my right cheekbone, and one less tooth in my head. Other bruises peppered my body, some older, some newer. I could only see about half of them, but the others made their presence known whenever I lay down on that hard shitty mattress.

I finally decided that I would never sleep without something warmer to cover me.

I kicked off the army reject blanket and stood up slowly, joints popping and twinging painfully. My bare feet touched the filthy floor which probably had not seen a mop since long before Tyler had moved into the house. Tyler didn’t own a mop that I knew of, or anything else that might be used to do housework. I took a selfish second to contemplate the myriad of vile things lurking in that grunge, things that were probably right then climbing my legs to find an open orifice and make me sorry my mother had ever met my father.

[I am Jack’s utter revulsion.]

I shuffled over to the wardrobe, dressed only in a t-shirt and my boxers. The wardrobe was perched on rickety looking legs against one wall. I opened it. Empty.

Well, not totally empty. Amid the dust and cobwebs of the lower shelf sat a shoe. I picked it up, two fingers gingerly holding it by the tip of it’s four inch stiletto heel. I brought it closer to my face with disgusted curiosity. It appeared to be made of white pleather. So sad, somewhere there was a porn star with only one shoe. Tyler’s dream girl would wear it.

So, the wardrobe was a bust. I padded out into the hallway. Tyler’s door was open. No Tyler.

I headed past his door, past the stairs, towards what appeared to be a closet door. It’s knob was greasy under my fingers, bringing a grimace to my face. It’s hinges creaked grudgingly as I opened it.

Also seemingly empty. I reached my fingers up to the top shelf, searching the recesses I couldn’t see.

Paydirt. I pulled down what looked to be an old down sleeping bag, tied into a bundle with yellow rope. As I took it down, dust and old mouse shit rained down around my feet. My body tensed as I fought off a wave of disgust.

“What are you doing?”

I started and turned.

Tyler was coming up the stairs, carefully sidestepping the numerous splits and gaping holes in the boards with his bare feet. He was dressed in his grungy pink bathrobe, the one with the steaming coffee mugs embroidered onto it. Knowing Tyler, that was probably all he was wearing.

“Looking for a blanket. The fucking heat is off” I held up the sleeping bag in proof.

“Yeah”. He leaned on the banister at the top of the stairs, staring into my eyes with a half-grin on his face. This staring contest went on for an eternity.

I finally broke the gaze. I coughed, feeling awkward as hell. What the fuck did he want now?

“Well, good night man” I said.

He said nothing, drifting past me into the bathroom, and brushing me lightly with his shoulder as he passed. I stiffened and watched him for a minute. He opened the mirror cabinet. I watched him take a jar of something and slip it into his pocket.

I shook my head and slipped back into the dimness of my room. I untied the strings that held the sleeping roll together and shook it out. More filth and shit landed on the floor around my bare feet. Grimace. I unzipped the bag all the way around, making it into a blanket, and spread it over the bed.

As I bent to do this, I felt eyes searching my back. I turned my head slowly with apprehension, a tense ball forming in the pit of my stomach for some reason. Over my shoulder, I saw the form of a reclining Tyler, in silhouette, lit from the back by the light of the hall.

I straightened up and turned, my entire body stiff and tingling.

[I am Jack’s screaming sense of foreboding]

“Hey man, you need something?”. My voice almost cracked, I was so fucking nervous. Tyler can be very scary someti…actually, most of the time.

He strode towards me, and even in the dim light I could see the grin on his face.

“Hey, wh-…” was all I managed to get out before he grabbe by by the throat with one powerful hand and thrust me against the wall. I tried to struggle out of his grip, but come on. He’s Tyler and I’m…well that’s not important. Anyway, the point is, he could hold me there without a great deal of effort. And he did.

My head began to pound as my lungs screamed for air and the blood pounded in my ears.

Tyler leaned forward, his face inches from mine, forcing me to stare directly into his eyes. And then he moved even closer to me, pressing his lips to mine as he tightened his grip on my neck. I cringed away from his kiss, mind focused on one idea and one idea only: survival…

[I am Jack’s primal urges]

…not on rationalizing or explaining the strange twist Tyler’s behaviour had taken over the past few minutes.

Finally, just as I was slipping off the edge into a pit of dark euphoric bliss, he loosened his grip. In fact, he let go of me all together, and just stood in front of me, hands on hips, as I fell to my hands and knees. My oxygen-deprived legs had turned to jello. I gasped, air rasping in and out of my lungs. My head began to ache in dull, throbbing thuds and stars zipped past in my peripheral vision on their way to god knows where.

When I finally looked up, he was grinning down at me.

“Get up”. He grabbed me under my arms, tugging me up and half-dragging me over to the sagging springs-and-mattress deathtrap that was posing as my bed. I sat down on the edge. Tyler stood in front of me.

“What the hell did you do that for, you stupid fuck?” I glared up at him. If I had the ability, I would have drilled a hole straight through his cranium with my eyes, gouging into the festering mass of nerves that was his twisted brain.

He snickered, sitting down next to me.

“Do you know how the Romans expanded their empire?” he stared at me as if he fully expected me to give him a spur of the moment history lesson. I shook my head, trying to find some explanation of this line of thought in his face.

“They staged long military campaigns into foreign lands. They fought you and made it known that they could crush you like a bug if thad tad the whim to. This was no different than any other empire before them, yes?” He nodded as if to make a point.

The overwhelming sense of the unreality of this situation pressed down on me: I was sitting, dressed in boxers and a grungy t-shirt, on the edge of a shitty bed, in a dirty and infested house, with a man, who was dressed only in a pink bathrobe and giving me an impromptu lecture on the Roman empire.

“I guess so” I said hesitantly, still in the dark.

“Yes!” He said this in a low hissing whisper, voice filled with childlike awe. “But then, then they did something totally new, something of amazing genius. They pushed you to the brink of your own mortality, to the edge of defeat, and then stopped. They stopped and asked you to choose. They asked you if you wanted to join their side.” Tyler’s hand appeared on my thigh, stroking gently. “They asked you if you wanted to play the game.”

[I am Jack’s stunning epiphany]

“Tyler!” I squeaked, pushing his hand away and sliding away from him on the bed, cursing myself for the strange tightening that his touch had caused.

He laughed, a true guffaw that made my hair stand on end.

“You know your two options. Pick one”. His face sobered, taking on a studious, expectant look. He would have looked scholarly save for his spiky hair and horriblee. e.

“What?” I already knew the answer: Come willingly or be taken. Either way it would be painful.

I stared back at him. Seeing if he would dare to do it. It was Tyler. He would.

My shoulders slumped and I blinked with effort and sighed. I lifted my hands palm up, in a diffident shrug.

[I am Jack’s resignation]

“Good choice”. Tyler’s fingers were at my waist in an instant, pulling my shirt over my head. I stared at the ceiling, willing myself out of my body.

Tyler’s rough hands massaged my chest, scraping the sensitive skin. I tensed, clenching my eyes shut tightly, retreating to my beloved cave, my sweet cuddly penguin.

Tyler’s slap across my right cheek brought me back to reality. I opened my eyes, skin tingling from the sting of his hand.

“Come on man, you have such a rod up your ass. Is this really that bad? You should be enjoying this.” He was smiling. “When was the last time you actually got laid?”

I stared at the floor, trying to ignore the pleasing sensation of his callused finger carefully tracing my prominent ribs. SileSilence was not the right choice. Suddenly, he caught the tender flesh of my right nipple between his thumb and finger, squeezing hard enough to make my eyes prick with tears.

“I asked you a question”

“Three years, three years ago” I rasped out, clenching my teeth. He let go.

“Dammit man, live a little”.

His finger began it’s tour of my chest again. Tyler stared at my face, and I kept his gaze for as long as I could. His fingers found my nipple again, but this time the pinch was rapture, ecstasy. My breath got shorter and came in stabs and pants. My chin lifted inadvertently and my eyes broke away from his as I stared towards the ceiling I heard him chuckle. My shorts had suddenly become too constrictive.

This tenderness ended quickly.

“Get up” he said, breaking the touch and standing himself.

Terror rose in me as I imagined what he was planning on doing to me. Then a wave of anger.

“Fuck this. Fuck you. I donant ant to play your fucking game anymore.”

[I am Jack’s inadvertent pun]

His flat palm brushed against my crotch, causing a spasm of heat to pass through me.

“Oh, I think you do. Get up.” His hands were on his hips.

I rolled my eyes, and stood on unsteady legs.

“Good, you’re learning. Get these off” he hooked his finger for a moment in the elastic waistband of my boxers, snapping them back and stinging my skin. I did as I was told, stepping out of them. A hot blush spreaer mer my face, to be so aroused and so exposed in front of Tyler. I stared at the floor.

His robe dropped and pooled around his feet.

“Look, I knew that this would be you first time, so I brought this shit to make it easier.” I looked up to see him holding a jar of vaseline in his hand.

Great. How considerate.

He opened it and dipped his fingers in, and then went about greasing himself up. Hung like a racehorse. That bastard. A few strokes and he was as hard as I was.

“Turn around”. He put the lid back on the jar of vaseline and tossed it to the side.

“Tyler, come on, you’ll kill me.” My entire body was singing with nervous unease.

“Everybody’s got to die from something” he motioned his hands in a circle.

I did it. Staring at the wall, I couldn’t see him, couldn’t know his next move.

I was surprised when gentle hands grasped my shoulders from behind, guiding me strongly but sensitively to bend over. I braced myself with my hands on the top of the mattress, bent at the waist, staring down at the filthy blanket.

His finger traced down my spine, leaving a trail of grease. He entered me from behind, one finger stretching that tight little ring of muscle. My entire body tightened, muscles strumming beneath my skin.

“Relax, man, relax. You’re just making it worse.” I did, and after a moment his searching finger left me.

He grabbed my hip with one hand and positioned the tip of his cock against my ass with the other. He began slowly rocking his hips, slipping deeper and deeper which each forward push.

The burning, stretching pain was too much for me. Tears began to course down my cheeks, falling silently to the dirty blanket on the bed. I began to hyperventilate, drawing in quick shaky breaths and my head began to swim.

Tyler stopped his motions, still inside of me but no longer generating that painful friction. He encircled me with his arms and hugged me gently from behind.

“Measure pleasure by the pain” he said.

His left hand returned to my hip, but his right snaked around my body to clasp my cock, which had started to go limp. It hardened again in a hurry clasped in his rough hand.

He began to thrust into me from behind and pump me at the same time. Slowly, it became less searingly painful and more searingly pleasant. Tyler’s forehead was pressed against the back of my neck, his breath hitting the skin between my shoulderblades in ragged stabs. We stayed in this position for a minute, maybe two, maybe ten. Time had ceased to exist.

After an eternity, I felt a warm gush inside of me. Tyler made no sound, but his hand tightened painfully on my hip. I felt myself let go too. Tyler wrapped his hand around the head of my cock, catching the white liquid that spewed forth.

After a moment, he loosened his grip on my waist. I felt his lips brush the skin between my shoulderblades.

“You have a br sha shaped exactly like a butterfly right there”. He released his hand, breaking the connection between us. “It’s beautiful”.

I suddenly felt very drained, very empty, and very lonely. My legs almost buckled as I crawled onto the bed, under the blanket. I lay on my back and let my head loll to one side, watching Tyler. He bent to pick up his robe, wiping his greasy hand on it. He didn’t put it on.

He turned to face me and I jerked my head straight, forcing myself to count the cracks in the ceiling.

[I am Jack’s wounded pride]

I could feel him watching me.

“What is your problem? Why is it so hard for you to ask for anything?”

I stared at the ceiling.

“Fuck, man, I don’t have all night for this bullshit. Do you want me to stay?”

I looked at him, and was met by a level, serious stare.

“Do you or not?”

I clenched my eyes shut and screwed up my courage.

“Yes” I forced out, voice almost inaudible.

“Whatever.” He dropped the robe back to the floor and stepped over to the bed, sliding in under the covers beside me.

I rolled onto my side towards the wall, and he snuggled in behind me, chest pressed to my back, strong arm wrapped around my chest. His breathing became slow and even against my skin. I drifted off. Best night’s sleep I’ve ever had.

THE END