Title: True Self
Pairing: Jack/Sam/Ainsley (is it still 'pairing' when it's a threesome?)
Summary: Ainsley introduces Sam to his double - Jack. Then the fun starts...
Notes 1: For this to make sense, I need to ask you to imagine that the events in The Lyon's Den occurred at the same time as, or before, Ainsley started in The West Wing. I also need to you believe that two identical, hot-looking guys could co-exist in Washington D.C. without anyone ever noticing or commenting on it. It's a lot to ask, I know, but in return I offer you smut :)
Notes 2: Any quotes from Freud come from his article 'Libido Theory and Narcissism' as found in the Penguin Freud Library. I can't believe I'm geeky enough to put theory into a smut fic.
Notes 3: Thanks to Jesse for beta'ing this so quickly.
WARNINGS: This is a dark!fic containing hints of character death. Rated NC17 for smut (including slash) and darkness. It also features an end-of-season Jack Turner (played by Rob Lowe), so if you haven't watched episode 13 of The Lyon's Den, this'll either spoil it for you or not make so much sense.
I'd love any feedback you have on this. Thanks.
True Self by Hannah
"There's not a life we need refuse If our true self we do not miss"
- Goethe, Westöstlicher Diwan, (trans. Ernest Dowden)
"Oh my god, it's Sam! Sam! Sam! Hello, Sam!"
With a sinking heart, Sam Seaborn realized there was no way to escape. He'd just wanted to stop by the bar for a quiet drink before heading home, but Ainsley's piercing cry had brought upon him the eyes of everyone in the room. He raised his hand in greeting and walked over to her table, hoping she would come to the conclusion that there was no need to shriek at him any more.
She was sitting at a table on the far side of the room with a dark-haired companion whose back was to Sam. As he approached the couple, Sam could see a number of empty cocktail glasses lined up in front of his colleague.
"See, I told you he likes to come here for a drink," he heard her tell her companion, who nodded.
"Ainsley," he said with a wry smile. "You wouldn't have been enjoying a pink squirrel or two, would you now?"
"Sam!" she cried again, leaping up to wrap her arms around him. "I may have had a couple," she confirmed, stepping back.
Her companion stood and turned to face Sam, who gasped at the vision in front of him.
"Jack Turner," said the man, extending his arm to shake Sam's hand.
"Sam Seaborn," replied the speechwriter, who was nearly speechless at what he saw.
"Oh my god," cried Ainsley. "You two look exactly alike!" She clapped her hands joyfully. "How did I not notice that before? Oh, who cares anyway? This is so funny! It's like there's a mirror. Only better." She paused. "Am I making any sense here?"
Jack grinned and sat down, indicating that Sam should do likewise.
"You're doing fine, kitten," he said teasingly. "Let me get you another one of those. Can I get you one too, Sam?"
Sam looked at him. "Do I look like the kind of guy who drinks pink cocktails?" he asked lightly.
Sweeping an appraising look up and down Sam, Jack said quietly, "You look like the kind of guy with all kinds of tastes."
"Maybe," replied Sam nervously, unsure where the conversation was headed. "But I draw the line there."
"Really, Sam? You don't seem like the type who's afraid to get in touch with his feminine side."
Even Sam could tell that this was a come on. For a brief instant, he pictured how he and Jack would look together, naked and sweaty, their identical bodies grinding against each other. He was disturbed at how hot he found the image, and forced his mind back to the here and now.
"Maybe I will have one, then," he conceded.
Jack nodded, a knowing smile spreading across his face, and he headed across to the bar.
"So," began Sam, "are you guys dating?"
"Oh, no no no," replied Ainsley. "We're just catching up on things. A former colleague of Jack's – Grant Rashton - was at Harvard with me, but a few months ago he just disappeared. Jack was wondering if I'd heard from him at all since then."
She leaned across the table and beckoned for Sam to do the same. "Can I tell you a secret, Sam?" she whispered.
"I think Jack likes you. You know, *likes* you," she clarified, jabbing her finger at Sam's chest.
Sam tried to ignore the fluttery feeling that those words induced in him. It was wrong to be attracted to his double, he felt, but the vision of the two men together surfaced again, and he felt a warmth building in his groin.
"Well, I like you, Ainsley," he said, taking her hand in his. "So let's just leave things there for now, okay?"
She nodded and sat back. Mirroring her movements, Sam noticed Jack returning - two pink cocktails and a bottle of beer in his hands.
Jack placed the drinks on the table then rested his hand briefly on Sam's shoulder.
The warmth of the touch sent a tingle down Sam's spine and unconsciously he leaned in towards Jack, a movement which elicited a laugh from Ainsley.
"You guys," she said. "You're so cute like that. Like bookends."
"Yeah?" asked Jack, as he sat down and scootched his chair closer to Sam's. "Good-looking bookends, I hope."
"Oh, absolutely," came the reply. "Nice polished wood." As though she had just realized what she said, Ainsley covered her mouth and gasped. "Real wood, I mean. Not metaphorical wood. Trees, branches, furniture... I was talking about that. Not any kind of metaphors or euphemisms. No, no, no. I'm a Republican. We don't think like that. We're sweet and innocent and..."
"... over-talkative," suggested Jack with a smile.
Sam was so caught up in the more metaphorical sense of 'wood' that he almost missed the teasing wink Jack shot his way.
"So, have you two known each other long?" Sam asked, desperate to bring the conversation back onto safer ground.
"Not really," replied Jack. "My father's a senator and he bumped into Ainsley last time he was at the White House. They got talking and realized she and I had an acquaintance in common, so he thought we might like to meet up some time."
He leaned closer to Sam. "To be honest, I think he's hoping she can give me some career tips - he's always wanted his son to work in the White House."
Hearing this, Sam relaxed. Here at last was a topic of conversation he felt comfortable with, so he settled back and began to extol the many wonders of working at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.
As the evening wore on, Sam felt himself relaxing more and more, downing drink after drink - each empty glass being solicitously refilled by Jack. Sam hadn't been in the mood for company when he'd arrived at the bar, but now he was glad he'd bumped into Ainsley. And Jack. Jack, whose knee had been pressed against his for the last half hour. Jack, whose eyes sparkled, and whose touch burned. Jack, whose presence was tempting Sam to do things his mind refused to contemplate.
His mind grew foggy as the alcohol took hold, and he barely registered Ainsley excusing herself to go to the ladies' room. Her departure left the two men alone for the first time all evening.
"So," began Jack once Ainsley was out of earshot, "have you had her yet?"
"I beg your pardon," said Sam, shocked at the bluntness of the question.
"She wants you," came the reply. "You've been her number one topic of conversation since I first got to know her. Then this evening I could see it in her eyes. And if I'm not mistaken, you want her too. So what's been stopping you?"
"I don't see how that's any of your business." Sam was uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was headed.
"It's my business because I want you to have her," said Jack. "I want you to have her tonight."
Sam stared at his companion in shock, unable to believe what he was hearing. "You're not her pimp," he growled.
"No," agreed Jack. "But I'm her friend, and I'm your friend too, now. And friends want their friends to be happy. So why not go for it?"
Sam shrugged. His head was buzzing and for the life of him, he couldn't think of a single reason why he should say no.
"What's up?" pressed Jack. "Afraid she'll get some Republican juice on you?" He grinned, proud of his pun, and Sam smiled too. Jack was right - why shouldn't he go for it?
"But what do you get out of this?" asked Sam.
"Why, I get to join in too."
Silence fell over the table as Sam processed Jack's statement.
"You mean... you and me and Ainsley..."
Jack smiled seductively. "That's exactly what I mean," he replied. "Mostly with the you and me part, but I'll throw in Ainsley as an added bonus."
"She's so drunk she won't last long," continued Jack. "And then it'll just be you and me. Mirror images, fucking each other senseless. Are you tempted?"
"That's very narcissistic," replied Sam, shaking his head. "It just sounds wrong."
"Sigmund Freud believed that narcissism was the first sexual impulse felt by an individual," stated Jack. "Aren't you tempted to indulge? Find out how it would feel to satisfy that drive?"
Sam looked at him. "No."
"Ah, you may be experiencing paranoia persecutoria," said Jack, nodding knowingly. "Freud describes it as 'the form of the disease in which a person is defending himself against a homosexual impulse which has become too powerful.'" He paused. "I've read up on this, you see."
"Well, then, you'll understand why I'm not tempted," replied Sam. "That form of paranoia is just a fancy way of saying narcissism, and Freud went on to say that that it leads to a change from affection to hatred which... now how did he word it? Ah, 'may become a serious threat to the life of the loved and hated object'. So, no, I'm not willing to become that for you."
Jack smiled. "You seem to know an awful lot about this. That's unusual for someone who's not in the psychiatric profession and would never be... tempted."
Sam glanced at Jack. The dim lighting of in the bar played across his features, casting shadows that highlighted his cheekbones, the slight curve of his nose, and his chiseled jaw. He sipped at his drink and as the alcohol entered his system, he felt a strange rush of longing. A desire to touch, and be touched by this man.
"Don't be coy, Sam," continued Jack, in a low, seductive voice. "You're a good-looking guy and you know it. Hell, you're so hot you can fuck hookers for free. You know it and I know it. And here I am - your double, your doppelganger. And I want you. I want to feel your skin under my fingers, taste your mouth with my tongue. I want to bury my cock so far up your ass you can feel me in your throat." He brushed a finger across the back of Sam's hand and Sam felt a shiver shoot through his body.
"You want it," murmured Jack. "You want me, and you can have me. And you can have her too," he added, nodding his head towards Ainsley as headed back across the room to their table. "Just trust me."
"I don't know you at all," replied Sam nervously. "You could hurt me."
Jack chuckled. "I could. And doesn't that add something extra to the occasion? Let's face it; you work in the most over-protected building in the world. When you travel, you're surrounded by armed guards. Don't you want to live on the edge for a while? Just one night. One night where you can feel alive again." He tilted his head slightly to the right and winked. "One night where you can have everything you ever wanted."
Sam's head was buzzing - from the alcohol or the anticipation of what could follow. He couldn't tell which. All he knew was that he wanted this. He wanted Jack.
Ainsley brushed past him as she returned to her seat, and her perfume overwhelmed his senses. She smiled at him guilelessly and his heart pounded faster. He could have her too. Jack was right. Everything he wanted, he could have.
He turned back to Jack and nodded - a shaky jerk of the head.
Jack smiled triumphantly, and ushered his companions out of the bar.
The next thing Sam knew, he was standing in a hotel room with Ainsley in front of him and Jack behind him. His shirt was undone, and he could feel Jack's hands undoing his belt and pants.
In the light filtering through the thin curtains from the streetlamps outside, he watched as Ainsley reached behind her and unclasped her bra and slid it off. Sam bent down and licked at her breasts gently, before wrapping his lips around a nipple and sucking on it, scraping his teeth across the skin surrounding it.
As Ainsley moaned and slid her fingers through his hair to hold him in place, Sam felt his pants and boxers being pulled down. He pulled away from her to step out of them, before placing his hands lightly around her waist and lavishing his attention on her other breast.
"Does she taste good?" murmured Jack from behind him, as he rubbed his hands across Sam's chest and abdomen. "Is she sweet or salty? Can you taste her desire, Sam? Taste how much she wants you?"
"Was that a no, Sam? How about you just feel it instead?"
Jack's right hand slid over Sam's and pulled it away from its resting place on Ainsley's hip. Together, the two men undid her skirt clasp and tugged it down. Then Jack guided Sam's hand down lower, brushing the tips of his fingers across the already-damp silk of Ainsley's panties.
"Feel that," continued Jack in a hypnotic murmur. "Feel how wet she is already. Now think how good it would feel to slide your fingers through that and plunge them into her heat. How good it would taste to lick at that, feeling her throb against your tongue."
Desire flooded through Sam and he pulled Ainsley to him. He crushed his lips to hers, forcing his tongue into her mouth. For a moment, she stood still then reacted, melding her body to his and sliding one hand down his back to cup his ass.
Sam felt Jack's mouth go to work on the back of his neck, nibbling and sucking and licking and biting. Overwhelmed with the sensation, he backed Ainsley towards the bed and pushed her down, then covered her body with his own, momentarily mourning the loss of warmth behind him as he slid his hands along Ainsley's sides and tugged her underwear off.
He felt Jack join them on the bed and kneel behind him. As a pair of strong, muscular arms wrapped around his waist, Sam pushed his ass back and rubbed it against Jack, thrilling at the sensation of skin against skin.
"Sam," moaned Ainsley from beneath him.
"What is it?" he asked, leaning forward again, trailing a line of kisses across her collarbone.
"Touch me, Sam," she replied.
Resting his weight on his left arm, he brushed his right hand down the center of Ainsley's torso. The softness of her skin was a pleasant contrast with the rougher sensation of Jack rubbing slowly up and down against his back.
Sam's hand crept lower and his fingers began to explore the wet folds of Ainsley's labia, rubbing them softly between his fingers as he slipped a finger deep inside her.
"Does that feel good," came a voice from behind him, as Jack wrapped his hand around Sam's stiff, throbbing cock.
"Her or me?" grunted Sam, resenting the interruption. He didn't want to talk, he just wanted to feel. Feel the softness of Ainsley and the friction against his cock. He wanted to see her beautiful body writhe and flail as he pleasured her. He wanted to smell the air grow thick with the scent of sex. And he wanted to hear the moans of pleasure coming from his companions. But he didn't want to think about it, or put it into words. Such an act was too complicated for the moment.
"Both," whispered Jack. "She looks so good like that. I bet your fingers are just itching to dive into her." He leaned closer. "Dive in, Sam. Fuck her with your hand. Suck her. You concentrate on her pleasure and I'll focus on yours."
With these words, he began to slide his hand up and down Sam's shaft as he rubbed his own penis along the crack between Sam's ass cheeks.
"Do it Sam," agreed Ainsley as she pushed his head down to her crotch. "Suck my clit. Make me come."
Sam did just that, and as his tongue lapped against the bundle of nerves just under Ainsley's thatch of blonde curls, he felt Jack lick at his anus. He moaned, and increased his efforts as his slid first two then three fingers into Ainsley's dripping cunt.
As he started to thrust his fingers in and out, Jack's tongue slid into him and Sam moaned against Ainsley's clit, which in turn caused her to buck her hips up and pull his head in closer - less with the Republican, more with the sex kitten, he thought in a brief flash of clarity.
Sam felt Jack pull his head back, then a cold, slick finger brushed over his ass before it slipped in. He pushed back against it and as it slid deeper, he felt Jack's other fingers come to rest on his skin.
Ainsley rocked harder and faster against Sam's fingers, as he scraped his teeth across her.
"Nearly, nearly," she panted. In the dim light, the sheen of sweat covering her made her skin shimmer, as though she were from another world. Sam gasped at the vision and kept his gaze fixed on her writhing body as his tongue licked and his fingers stroked her, finding a spot that made her spasm around him.
"Open your eyes," ordered Jack.
She did so, and Sam watched as her pupils dilated. "Oh," she murmured. "You guys look so good. So perfect like that." She stroked her breasts with one hand, while the other held Sam's head to her.
Her moan filled the room as Sam felt her spasm against his face, her muscles clenching around his fingers where they were buried deep inside her. As her trembling subsided, she lay back and closed her eyes.
Sam felt Jack lean forward, pressing his chest against Sam's back, taut nipples brushing across the skin.
"It's just the two of us now," he murmured into Sam's ear before he sucked the lobe into his mouth and bit down gently. "Just you and your double."
Sam felt a hand wrap around his throat, before he was pulled upright.
"Turn around," Jack demanded. "Get on your back. I want to see you. You want to see me."
Jack pulled his fingers out of Sam and, desperate for more, Sam turned around. He felt an arm come around his waist, lowering him gently back onto the bed.
Straddling Sam's hips, Jack held their cocks alongside each other. "Well, would you look at that," he purred. "Seems we're identical in every way. So what do you want now? Should I suck you, or fuck you?"
Jack thrust against Sam, the friction pulling a gasp from him as he tipped his head back on the pillow in a move which exposed his throat. Jack's body covered his own, and his teeth brushed across the skin covering Sam's Adams apple.
"Fuck me," grunted Sam. His hands grasped at Jack and pulled him down by his ass, desperate to feel their cocks grind against each other again.
Jack pulled back and lifted Sam's legs so that the backs of his thighs were pressed against his chest then thrust his cock into him.
Sam writhed and moaned and thrust back against the intrusion, desperate to feel. He wrapped a strong hand around his cock and began to pump. He felt Jack's grip on him - one hand clutching at his hip, the other wrapped around his shoulder where his fingernails were digging into the skin.
The pain felt good to Sam, anchoring him to the moment, and he reached up to pull Jack's head down for a kiss. There was no gentleness between the two men - their teeth gnashed and their tongues thrust against each other as Jack ground his cock deeper and deeper into Sam's ass.
With a cry Sam came, and his semen shot across his chest. Jack leaned forward and, still thrusting, licked at the salty liquid.
"That's nice," he purred. "Did you like that?"
Sam nodded frantically, too spent for words.
"Well then this is going to feel pretty damn good too." At this, he thrust one more time into Sam and with a cry shot his load.
Sam rode Jack's tremors then as his partner slipped out of him and wandered into the bathroom to clean up, he curled up onto his side.
Sam closed his eyes and felt himself drifting into sleep. He felt the mattress dip next to him when Jack returned to sit on the bed next to him.
As the world faded away, he thought he felt Jack's breath brush across his cheek as a hand stroked his neck.
"How about we satisfy another instinct of yours, hmm? Sam, have you ever heard of thanatos?"
Sam had. He tried to open his eyes, or his mouth, but found himself unable to. Powerless to respond, he slipped into darkness.
Ainsley let out a small moan and rolled over. Opening her eyes, she groaned at the bright sunlight streaming in through the window, and rolled to face the other direction and found herself face to face with...
His lips slowly spread into a smile. "Why, yes, Ms. Hayes. Who else would I be?"
"I thought... maybe... Jack," she mumbled, trying to wake up enough to sort through the sudden confusion of images flooding her mind.
"Oh, Jack's gone now," murmured Sam softly. "It's just you and me here now - Ainsley and Sam. Sam Seaborn. Senior staff to the President of the United States." He chuckled mirthlessly.
Ainsley sat up, tugging the sheets up around her. "Sam, are you still drunk?" she demanded.
He laughed at that. "I do feel a little giddy, yes." He paused then, brushing her hair gently off her face, asked, "Are you okay?"
"I think so. I just..." She focused her gaze on the bedspread, admiring the whirls of green and blue that gave the impression of a stormy ocean. "Could we possibly never mention what happened last night again? Because that just wasn't something I'd ever normally do, Sam, and I don't know what got in me but I think it must have been a lot of alcohol or something and I'd just really rather not remember it."
Sam nodded solemnly. "No-one ever need know what happened here last night. I for one, think this is a situation where the truth should be buried."
He stood and began to pull his clothes on. "Now, how about I get dressed, you get dressed and we head into work, hmm?"
Ainsley crept out of bed and made her way to the bathroom, but was stopped short by the sight of something on the carpet.
"Sam, does this look like a drop of blood to you?" she asked nervously.
"Blood?" he asked, walking across to her, his strides long and slow. "Maybe. I think I bled a little after... well, you know."
With a blush, Ainsley mumbled something that could have been a word, and rushed into the bathroom, vowing to herself never to mention blood in Sam's company again.
She emerged ten minutes later to find Sam dressed and standing by the door.
"Ready to go?" he asked.
"Well then, let's go see what we can do to the world today." Sam opened the door and strode out.
As their taxi drove past the Potomac, Sam turned to gaze out of the window at the water. With his back to her, Ainsley never saw the gleam of triumph in his eyes, but she caught his whispered words.
THE END. OR THE BEGINNING.
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