AN: Be warned! This is about the M-Rated game, Bioshock. I had nothing to do with the conception or release of the game, and I make no monetary profit from the writing of fiction based on the characters therin. This story is also rated M, though for entirely different reasons. Those reasons include explicit sexual activity, not limited to oral, anal, daddy!kink, and slight D/s behavior of the main characters. If any of this squicks you, look elsewhere for fic of a more intellectually flavored nature. If you're here for gratuitous porn, read on!

Too many splicers.

They cut the lights and jump him and he uses mainly his plasmids to take them out. Not a huge problem except for the fact that they pretty much depleted his Eve. He had one hypo left and didn't even know where to begin to look for more. All those damn splicers would only add to the frustration, covering themselves in plaster and posing in the damndest of places, making him think he's relatively safe, but no, Jack's never safe, not here. He's got to be careful not to piss Cohen off, though. Cohen controls his radio, the cameras, and all of the splicers in Fort Frolic. It's kind of a wonder that Andrew Ryan had the guts to fuck him over or break his heart. Jack would feel bad for Sander Cohen if he weren't...well...batshit crazy. A 'section 8', just like Atlas had said he would be.

Jack takes time to note his location. He's already looted the splicers. They were for the most part worthless, save for some pistol ammo and a few bucks, which would actually be useful except Jacks far past the turning point of disoriented and has no idea where the nearest Circus of Values machine is. He's standing in the middle of a makeshift stage, likely used for street performances, or the equivalent of a street performance in Rapture.

Around the corner, there's a door and a hallway. The door is to one of Augustus Sinclair's many enterprises. A Solutions office. Jack regards it cautiously, then sees shadows around the corner. More splicers, another big group by the look of it. Jack weighs his options and ultimately, entering Sinclair Solutions is his best bet, so he slides through the door and allows it to his shut behind him.

Immediately, a double-barreled shotgun is aimed right in his face, forcing his focus and ubscuring the rest of the already dim room.

"What d'you want?" A familiar voice says, and Jack sighs with relief.

"Atlas."

"Jack?" The man hesitates, then lowers the weapon. "Jack, boyo. I was looking for you. I thought the worst had happened."

"No, no. Cohen jammed my radio, that's all," Jack explains, "He...uh. Yeah. But why did you-"

A particularly loud shreik from a splicer outside startles Jack into silence.

"Turn the auto-open on the door off. There's a button behind the desk. Sinclair was always a careful sort, made all his businesses easy to lock up. I'll..." Atlas takes a quick assesment of the room and sees a row of file cabinets. He sets to work, pushing them in front of the door. Jack presses the button and there is a whir as the door locks in place.

Jack begins to cross over to the other side of the room, but Atlas grabs at him, perhaps a little too harshly, as they both topple to the floor.

"Atlas," Jack chokes under the man's weight, and Atlas seems to acknowledge him, shifting his weight so Jack can breathe, in doing so, trapping Jack's wrists beneath his hands.

"There's a window over there," Atlas explains, "and it ain't bulletproof."

"Shouldn't we barricade it then?"

"Already blocked off. Set up two turrets on either side. But a sploicer could still see ya and then all hell would break loose."

As if on cue, there is a great clammor from behind them, accompanied the sound of someone beating on glass. Jack bucks upwards, his hips colliding with Atlas' thigh, but his movements are greatly hindered by the man on top of him, who still has his wrists pinned to the cold floor and their legs seemingly infinitely tangled.

The splicers continue to mutter outside, sheer nonsense. A few beat on the door for a minute or so, unrelenting. But the barricade works.

"Let me up," Jack says, but Atlas shushes him.

"You're almost out of Eve, boy-o. Now is not the time to go looking for a fight."

Jack knows Atlas is right, but for some reason he continues to fight, squirming his hips up against Atlas' thigh frantically.

"Stop it," Atlas hisses. "D'you even bloody know what you're doing?"

"No," Jack whines, "Just can't breathe, don't like being pinned."

He gives a moan of desperation as he bucks up again. Though Atlas is a good foot shorter than him, he's impossibly strong. He bucks again, only to be met with more resistance this time as Atlas pins him down with his hips, wincing visibly.

"They'll go away in a bit," Atlas assures him, almost panting with exertion, "And then I'll let you up. But until then, we have to stay down and stay quiet."

Jack is panting at this point, but he nods, and for a moment, the only sounds are the shreiking of splicers and Jack and Atlas' breathing. Slowly, the splicers seem to disband, and silence falls around them. Atlas shifts, and Jack finds, startled, that he likes the sensation. Atlas' body is so warm and so firm against his, and...

Oh shit.

Jack starts to get hard, which is horrific and embarassing, but Atlas shifts again and Jack's face goes red, because his cock against the hard line of Atlas' body feels like... Like something good, something beyond all this.

"Think it's safe now," Atlas says in his ear, and Jack represses a shudder. Atlas moves to get up, but his thigh rubs against Jack's hardness, and Jack cannot repress the whimper that follows.

Atlas is on his hands and knees above Jack and he pauses, looking down at the red-faced kid beneath him.

"Jack?"

"I..." Jack winces and scoots away a fraction, then tries to sit up, coming face to face, quite abruptly, with Atlas. He looks him in the eye and scoots back again, his breath heavy once more. "Sorry, I..."

"I thought that was yer pistol, Jackie," Atlas says, warmly, "It's alright, boyo. Get up. We have a bit a talking to do. There's a back office with no windows, comfy chairs, and warm food. I don't come here often s I can manage, Cohen's not the friendly sort when you don't like his taste in art, but when I do visit," Atlas gestures broadly, "This place is me safehouse."

Jack blushes as Atlas helps him to his feet and then leads him to the aforementioned office. It is a warm room, brightly lit by lamps and well stocked, as promised. Atlas sits casually on the desk and indicates that Jack should sit in a chair, across from him. Jack does, and Atlas crosses his legs and begins speaking, gesturing with his hands. But Jack is distracted. He got hard, and that was fine, it could've just been from the warmth. But he was staying hard. Five minutes later, still 'at attention' as it were, and he's beginning to think that it probably has something to do with the fact that he can still smell Atlas on his skin, that his skin still tingles with the warmth of Atlas' touch.

"Boyo," Atlas says, "Ya 'wake in there?"

"Sorry," Jack says, turning even redder.

"Maybe it'd be in ev'rybody's best interest if we got rid a yer lil problem, eh Jackie?"

Jack blanches under Atlas' attention and crosses his legs, mimicking Atlas. But Atlas lays a gentle hand on his knee and has him uncross them once more. Jack turns away, unable to look him in the eye.

"Little?" Jack asks, indignant, and Atlas laughs.

"Well, I wouldn't know from experience now, would I?" Atlas asks, "Not yet anyway."

Jack is surprised enough to turn back and meet his gaze.

Something in Atlas' eyes goes dark then. Maybe it's just that his pupils have dialated, signaling his lust, but Jack senses that it's something more than that. It is a leer unsurpassed that meets Jack's gaze, and he feels his cheeks grow warm as Atlas leans forward and says, "What do ya say ta that?"

"I'd say...that's probably a good idea?" Jack conceeds, hesitantly, "If you think I'll be able to concentrate better..."

Atlas closes the gap between them, his lips brushing Jack's gently. Trembling, the younger of the two reciprocates the best he can, still a littl unsure. Jack's nerves feel like they're carrying electricity through his veins instead of blood (though, taking the plasmids into consideration, that isn't an entirely strange feeling), and he whimpers again. Atlas slides off of the desk before crouching on the space inbetween the desk and Jack, nudging his legs apart and coming to kneel in between them.

Jack pulls away to pant against Atlas' face as Atlas begins to undo the button on his trousers. He glances over at the door, where his weapons are neatly stacked on the floor. His fist crackles, electricity coming unbidden to his fingertips. Something is wrong.

"Trust me," Atlas whispers, and that seems to do the trick.

The electricity in his left hand fizzles out and it curls limply around the armrest. By this time, Atlas has gotten the zipper on Jack's trousers undone and lifts them, indicating that he should lift his hips in kind, which he does. Atlas pulls his trousers and underwear down just enough to free his cock, now leaking, to slap up against the dirtied fabric of his sweater.

"Well, lookit you," Atlas purrs, and Jack gulps in kind.

Atlas gives him another kiss, chaste and tight lipped, before wrapping his hand around the base of Jack's rather impressive member and giving a quick pull, elliciting a gasp from the younger man.

"That's it, Jackie-boy. Relax. Just relax," Atlas encourages him, accompanying each word with a complete upward and downward stroke, "You're being so good, so very good, such a good little boy."

The words make Jack feel dirty, but he arches into Atlas a little more with each stroke until his hips are leaving the chair on each downward stroke to meet Atlas' fist.

"Bein' so good, I think ya deserve a reward for being so good, don't you?"

"Yeah," Jack gasps, surprised by the sheer perverse nature of Atlas' undertaking. Atlas could've just jerked him off, sans dirty talk, and been done with it, or left the room and let Jack tend to himself. Yet this...it wasn't as if Jack had any complaints. He'd wanted Atlas almost since the first time he heard his voice, for some unaccounable reason. But he'd buried that want, because...because...there were bigger things going on. Ryan and Cohen and Steinman and Langford and Tenenbaum and those little girls...speaking of children, Atlas had a family mere hours ago, and he seemed to be dealing with the death of his wife and child just fine all things considered. He seemed far more concerned with Jack...

"You wanted me," Jack gasps again, Atlas' hand still jerking his cock, though he'd leaned back like he had other plans for the two of them while Jack had been lost in thought. "This whole time, you wanted me."

"Mm. Wanted to 'shake yer hand'," Atlas almost chuckles, remembering, "Couldn't wait to get my bloody hands on ya one way or another, that's for damn sure. There was obligation, ta my family, ta these good as dead citizens a Rapture. And then there's desire, which I have for you. Only for you. Wanna break ya, make ya scream my name. Now about yer treat..."

And Atlas' mouth descends, kissing the tip of his cock before taking as much into his mouth as he could, licking the underside as he slowly pulled back up.

"Oh..." Jack's hands come up to clech the armrests and his hips mirror that, thrusting up to try and get more of his length into that wonderful, wet heat. Atlas grabs his hips and shoves him back into his place in the chair, descending on his cock once more. Once Jack grows used to the sensation, Atlas removes his hands from Jack's hips and wrap them both around the base of Jack's cock.

"Close," Jack manages to pant. Unsurprisingly, Atlas draws away from his dick and stands circling the desk and beginning to rifle through the drawers with one hand, unbuttoning his shirt with the other.

"Clothes. Off." He commands, and Jack immediately sets to work on his own clothes, pulling his sweater and undershirt over his head and off to pile over his guns by the door, letting his pants and underwear pool around his ankles as he kicks his shoes off and tossing them in the same general area.

"Get over here, boyo," Atlas says and Jack obliges.

Atlas sets a jar of something on the desk and, as soon as Jack is within reaching distance, grabs him and crushes their mouths together once more. It feels strange but right, being naked and pressed against Atlas, and Jack responds with enthusiasm, wrapping his arms around Atlas' neck and moaning freely into the kiss. Atlas' hands start by rubbing slow, soothing circles into his back, but they go lower until he has an ass cheek in each hand, pressing them together and pulling them apart, massaging in slow, kneading movements, backing Jack up until he falls against the desk.

Atlas takes a moment to appreciate him like that, naked and splayed across the desk, hair askew and cock throbbing, wet and red against his stomach as his chest heaves with his quickened breaths, triggered by arousal. Arousal only Atlas can provide, if he has anything to say about it.

"Ya went an' got me all hot an' bothered now, boyo. Yer gonna have ta take care a me. Gonna have to let me bury my cock in that pretty lil hind a yers. Ya ready?"

"Do it," Jack pants, "Please. Want you inside, please, please, please."

"Still such a good boy. Even when yer bein' punished. Spread yer legs, there, lemme get you ready." Atlas grabs the jar at Jack's side and applies it's contents liberally to the three main fingers of his right hand, idly stroking his own cock with his left. "Gonna stretch ya out nice and good, getcha ready to be full of me big cock. Yeh want it, dontcha?"

"Yes," Jack writhes on the desk, "Yeah, just hurry, please."

"Well," Atlas grins, feral, "Since ya asked so nicely..."

He removes his left hand from his cock and grabs Jack's knee, forcing his legs open and pulling him closer, prodding his entrance with a first finger.

"Oh," Jack gasps, and sucks in a breath when the finger enters him. If he's in pain, he doesn't show it, rocking along with the finger's minstrations, eyes at half-mast and breathing labored. His eyes widen when a second finger is added, and he writhes as they begin to scissor inside him. Then the third is added, and Atlas begins rubbing soothing circles on his stomach, which are unnecessary, because his fingers have hooked on something that makes Jack writhe in an entirely different way, cock regaining lost hardness as he begins to press back down on Atlas' fingers again. "Please," he whimpers, "Please, 'm ready."

"Tell me what'm bout ta do to ya, Jack," Atlas hisses, "Tell me. Need ta hear it."

"Fuck me," Jack hisses back, "Fucking fuck me, please, want it, know you want it too, just-"

Jack cuts himself off with a choked gasp as Atlas' cock presses against his entrance. "This what ya want, Jack?" Atlas teases, "Hm?"

"Yes," Jack growls, "Put it in."

Atlas just chuckles, leaning down, parallel to Jack's chest. "Now now," he says, "Yeh can ask nicer 'en that, cantcha?" He puts Jack's right nipple between his teeth and the left between his fingers and rolls them both. As expected, Jack's back arches into the attention as much as possible, and Jack moans, the noise going straight to Atlas' cock.

Jack glares at him, red in the face, and Atlas grins as he leans back, still holding one of jack's nipples between his fingertips. He rolls it again, and Jack throws his head back, clenching his eyes shut as he cries, "Please put your cock in me, Atlas! Please, fuck me, come inside..."

And Atlas eases himself in, inch by inch, until he's firmly seated in the boy's rear. He pulls out just as slowly and repeats the action a few times before picking up speed, the desk creaking under Jack's weight and the force of Atlas' thrusts.

"Feel so good, Jack, so tight, so good fer me, spreading yer legs and letting me inside. Just me only me, only one allowed ain't that right?"

Atlas' hands brace the wood on either side of Jack's head as he thrusts with greater urgency. Jack's arms lace into his and their fingers entertwine. He meets Jack's gaze, which is unaccountably warm and tender, as Jack replies in between gasps, "Yeah, only you. Only you can make me feel so good, make me hard, make me come like this, on your cock, wanna come, I've been so good..."

"Ya have, ya been a damn good little boy, doin as yer told, yeh deserve ta be rewarded, dontcha?"

"Yes, please..."

Atlas is dripping sweat, muscles trembling from the exertion as he says, "Tell yer daddy whatcha need."

Jack gasps, his eyes widen and his blush comes back full force, but he seems to like where this is going, "Touch me there, daddy, make me come, fuck me 'til I come and then come inside me." He pauses, and then adds for good measure, a high-pitched and overwhelmed, "Fuck me, daddy, please, fuck me good, I've been so good."

"Daddy's fuckin ya, baby, daddy's gonna give you what you need," Atlas says, somehow satisfied, and he reaches down with one hand and begins jerking Jack's cock in time to his thrusts, begining to slide in and out of Jack's slick, hungry opening with ease, "So hungry for me cock, takin it all in at once," he says, mostly to himself.

"Tell me," Jack pants, "how much you love fucking me."

"Love being inside me lil boy," Atlas replies, taking the hint, "Want his sweet come all over, want his sweet lil behind to take all of his daddy's come, want it to leak down his thighs..."

"Oh! Oh my god, Atlas, At-Daddy!" Jack cries as he comes, coating them both with his essence. He drags his finger through the mess on his chest and presses it to Atlas' lips. "Taste it, daddy," he says, and Atlas comes undone, coming inside of him with a ragged moan, and resting on top of him on the desk.

They spend a moment catching their breath, and then another few kissing, exploring each other's bodies with newfound fondness.

"Atlas?" Jack says, breaking away.

"Yeah, boyo?" Atlas replies.

"...I'm hungry."

"Well then," Atlas says, reluctantly rising from on top of him, relishing Jack's gasp when he pulls out, "Let's getcha fed." And begins to dress. Similarly, Jack wobbles over to his own pile of clothes and begins to dress, wiping hs and Atlas' come away with a rag tossed to him. He sees his pile of weapons and remembers his mission, somewhat regretabbly.

"Hey," he says to Atlas.

"Yeah."

"I'll map out what I know of Fort Frolic, and you can help me with an attack plan while we eat, okay?" Jack offers.

"Sounds good, kid," Atlas replies, already busy with a bunson burner and some cans of food. "Sooner we get out of here, the better."

"Speaking of which, Jack says, remembering something, "How did you get here? Cohen sank the only bathysphere."

"Atlantic Express," Atlas replies, "Something like a subway line, as far as Rapture's concerned. An underwater train. As you could imagine, a lot of the stations are flooded, but they're still pretty reliable if you're careful. It draws a bit more attention, but it gets the job done. The bathysphere is far more convenient, where your concerned."

"Oh." Jack seems to think a moment before asking, "Do you think you could stay with me a while? It'd be nice to have more than splicers, art freaks and the holier-than-thou voice of Andrew Ryan for company."

Atlas looks at him with regret, "Wish I could. But this thing is bigger than me and you. I've got just as much business to attend to as you do. But we'll have the shortwave radio. I'll see what I can do about unjamming the signal. If we find time, I can talk dirty to you again," Atlas winks.

Jack blushes, managing to look decidedly more masculine while doing so with a machine gun in his hands. "Oh, okay."

Atlas turns back to the food, but only so that Jack doesn't see the malevolent smirk playing across his face. Things are going better than planned, which means he has the upper hand.

And the upper hand is essential when in his line of business.

AN: I debated putting the daddy!kink in here for a while, but ultimately decided it suited the story pretty well. I find the daddy!kink rather ironic in terms of BioShock, especially when it comes to this pairing.

Anyway, I'm sorry if Atlas' accent was less than quality. Please, feel free to voice any concerns or lack thereof in the form of a review or private message. Thanks for reading!