Author: Carol Anne Caiafa
Rating: Hard R/NC-17
Fandom/Claim: Saw/John Kramer AKA Jigsaw. Written for the 10_per_genre challenge community.
Table: #9, Hurt/Comfort
Prompt: #5, Memories/Past
Word Count: 1,221
Warnings: Sex and mentions of horror themes and violence, heavily AU
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, no profit, suing is futile!
A/N: This fic is set in an alternate universe where Zep survives and is working with John and Amanda. Certain parts of this story may therefore not conform to Saw canon. The story takes note of what I know from Saw 1-3; I have not yet seen Saw 4, and so this fic contains no spoilers for that film. I may or may not regard Saw 4 as a canon source for my future stories, depending on its merits.
This is dedicated to my darling cassiejo, with all my love - if it wasn't for you, angel, I never would have got into Saw! *kiss*
The first girl that Zep had ever loved had laughed at him when he told her of his feelings, and called him a creep. It was back in high school, and he remembered the scent of her hair the first and only time he had leaned forward to sniff it; she was reading a book and didn’t notice him, otherwise she might have slapped his face. Green apple shampoo, and something that reminded him of warm spring days and sunshine.
John’s head was still bald, but his brows, lashes and thin strip of beard were the same light blond as that girl’s hair – the most beautiful color in the world, in Zep’s eyes. Zep had never thought he could desire a man, but John Kramer was not like any other man he had ever known. He got under Zep’s skin somehow, made him burn with a need he had never felt before. John was so dedicated to changing the world, one person at a time, using a series of gruesome but ingenious traps to teach the ungrateful and wasteful to appreciate their lives. These were tests, set up to alter lives forever – and those caught in the traps were not victims, but John’s test subjects.
It was the subjects’ choice, life or death, and nobody else’s, John always said. Their own actions had brought them to their fate. And Zep agreed with him wholeheartedly. The pain, the blood and the misery were exactly what these people deserved. Zep understood this far better than most people could, because John had tested Zep, and he had survived. In his former existence, Zep was ineffectual, a weakling – he was just an orderly at the hospital, looked down upon and walked all over by everyone. Even those who felt kindly disposed towards him had thought him pathetic. John had rescued him from his past, and given him strength – much like he had done for that girl Amanda, the only other survivor of John’s tests.
The mere sound of John’s calm, resonant voice was enough to make Zep weak at the knees. For perhaps the first time since that unrequited passion in high school, Zep Hindle was utterly in love.
And John Kramer didn’t think Zep was a creep at all.
John’s gaze was steady, the intense blue of his eyes hypnotic, although his face was lined with suffering and his body was scarred from the attempt at suicide that had set him off on the mission that now obsessed him. But his arms were comforting and strong, despite his failing health. Zep tried not to think about the cancer that was devouring John from within. The very thought of losing John tore Zep apart inside. He hated what was happening to the man he loved. Even though it was the cancer that had begun everything, that had shaped John into the man he was now, the man who Zep adored and worshipped with every fiber of his being. If it had not been for the cancer, John and Zep would have never come together, would never be locked in the embrace they now shared.
The few times that Zep had shared his bed with women, the way he touched them had made them uneasy. He had seen it in their eyes – like his high school crush, they found his attentions… creepy. A first encounter seldom, if ever, led to a second one for him, and after all this time the rejections still stung.
With John, there was no being pushed away, and no looks of scarcely veiled repulsion. There were only soft gasps and moans as Zep nuzzled against John’s neck, nipping slightly before kissing down to his chest and dragging his tongue-tip from one pale nipple to the other. He slowly and reverently breathed in the scent of the other man, soap and warm skin, with the faint trace of something slightly medicinal but not unpleasant. Zep ached with the raw need to please John, to make him raise his hips and moan Zep’s name out loud. To lick, suck and taste him, drive him mad with wanting to be pleasured.
Zep moved his lips, caressing softly, all over John’s chest, down to his stomach, lingering over the scar left by the car crash, the failed suicide that had inflamed John’s crusade against the unappreciative. It was beautiful to Zep, this disfiguring mark, because it meant that John had endured and survived. The scar was a symbol of John’s rebirth, and Zep kissed and licked it over and over, in complete veneration and love.
John’s breath was shuddering and ragged; he was barely coherent as he gasped Zep’s name and reached to stroke the other man’s hair, urging his head lower with one trembling hand. Zep’s slim fingers drifted through the pale curls between John’s thighs, lovely white-blond curls, before he dropped a soft kiss on the head of John’s cock and took John’s shaft into his mouth. He sucked John slowly, tracing patterns on his warm, hardened flesh with an eager tongue before taking John deep into his throat. His blood was racing at the power he had; John was usually so calm and resolute, and Zep was bringing him to the brink of losing control.
“Not too much now, Zep,” John murmured in that voice that made Zep shiver and melt. The hands may have been shaking slightly, but there was still strength in the fingers that gently coaxed Zep to release his tender hold on John’s cock and look into the other’s eyes. “I want to be inside you, to fill you… you want that too, don’t you, Zep? You love it when I claim you, make you mine…”
Zep breathed deep and nodded, his longing overwhelming him as John pushed him onto his back, sliding a pillow beneath his hips. Lotion slicked fingers entered him one at a time, carefully stretching and preparing, then were replaced by John’s swollen cock, pressing hard against Zep’s tight ass. John thrust slowly and tenderly within, not wanting to come too fast or hurt Zep. Holding his lover close, Zep surrendered himself completely to John, crying his name aloud like a prayer and moving as one with him.
Locked with his lover, filled with John’s hardness and giving himself over to the blissful ache inside him, Zep never wanted this to end. But when it did, there was still the sweetness of being held in John’s arms for the entire night. John never sent Zep from his bed after their loving, or recoiled from him under the pretext of “needing space” as certain women had.
The first time that Zep and John slept together, Zep had almost wept. After years of being on the outside of everything that was good and beautiful, Zep had something precious to keep close to his heart, and somewhere to belong at last.
“Why me, and not that girl Amanda?” Zep had asked in a tremulous voice on that first night. “She’s pretty, and she’d be willing – she adores you…”
John had merely smiled and pulled Zep closer, kissing his temple as he whispered, “Amanda has her place in all of this – to heal from her past and learn to carry on my work. You too have your place, Zep – healing from your past, right here in my arms.”