Absence and Fondness
Title: Absence and Fondness
Rating: hard R
Pairing: Sawyer/Sayid, Jack/Boone, Jack/Sawyer established relationship
Summary: Jack and Sawyer take a break.
Disclaimer: Lost is property of ABC. I am in no way claiming ownership of any characters involved. I intend to receive no monetary benefit from this work and intend no copyright infringement.
Notes: Set in a cracked out AU in which either: (take your pick) Jack and Sawyer enter a relationship during S1, or Boone doesn't die. Written for fosfomifira, at the Luau for absence makes the heart grow fonder, and relevant to the interests of former queens: haldoor, hopelessfangirl, alemyrddin, kellysparrow (if you're taking the first of the two AU options) and alliecat8- BUT DON'T WORRY YOUR FICS ARE HOPEFULLY COMING SOON AS WELL, I just thought this might tide you over in the meantime.
Absence and Fondness
It was easy enough to find Sayid, not that he had set off intending to in the first place. His own blind frustration had delivered him there, sending him traipsing off into the jungle to battle underbrush and hopefully blow off some much needed steam, when who should he happened upon but Sayid, playing McGiver up on one of the half dozen ledges that overlooked sandy white beaches and endless blue water. It was a sight for a postcard, and Sawyer couldn't help but resent the damn island for ruining tropical vacations for the rest of his life.
"Watcha doin', Ali?" He said, swiping at his eyes with the heel of his hand.
Sayid glanced back at him offhandedly, but did not turn, his focus remaining firmly on the tangle of wires he seemed to be unraveling.
"This is the highest point on the island that is not covered by a canopy of trees," he said, simply. "Hurley and I happened upon it a few days ago and thought it might be worth a try to bring the radio equipment up here."
Sawyer nodded, swallowing a great lump that had collected in his throat and considering the dirt he'd kicked up with great reverence. He had never made it this far east, he realized with a vague sense of surprise he couldn't quite place the origin of.
"I got a proposition for you, Sayid."
"Yes?" Sayid said, meeting his gaze with a perfectly poised raise of an eyebrow.
"Yeah," he said, nodding roughly and kicking up a bit more dust, just for the sake of it. "See, the way I figure it, you're a man with needs, am I right? Being on this island, you know, we got food and water and mangoes and shit but sometimes a man needs, you get what I'm saying? Something you just can't ignore once it gets to be too long because you just can't escape it, this need. Gets too be too much to handle sometimes, you know?"
Sayid turned away, and Sawyer felt the bubbling discomfort in his stomach begin to churn again. "Sawyer, you are going to have to be more specific if you are going to make a point." He said, his voice turning frigid even in the island's overwhelming tropical humidity.
"The point," he says, speaking around the crushing clench of his jaw, "is that you have needs, Sayid, and so do I. All I'm trying to say is all we gotta do is put two and two together and we'll make ourselves a nice little equation, alright?"
Sayid seemed to consider this, setting his wires aside with the broken radio from the cockpit and array of other electronic junk they've managed to find on the island. For a long moment, there is only considerate, thoughtful silence broken by the crashing of waves a hundred feet below. Then, Sayid stood, slowly, and addressed Sawyer, toe-to-toe. "And Jack?"
"We're on a break."
"Alright, then."
They walked into the jungle because fuck, they were miles from anyone who might care about what they were about to do and Sawyer knew it had to be quick because it couldn't be anything else. And under the canopy of green, vibrant leaves they stripped, quickly and separately, before setting out for the task at hand.
They kissed- Sayid with a certain amount of technique Sawyer hadn't expected, and maybe in another time would've enjoyed- but Sawyer was quick to realize that Sayid's foreign mouth was simply not shaped in the right manner for kissing, his lips too large and his open mouth too wide for Sawyer's tastes, and turned his attention to other things.
Sayid's skin, he discovered, was soft, beautifully, exquisitely, brown from head to toe, and inexplicably salty. Fine black hairs spread across the expanse of his arms and legs, with curling tufts creating a small trail from chesst to belly and hips. He smelled of sweat, but then again, who didn't?
He found where Sayid stood at half mast easily, the organ pressing insistently against his hip, and using a combination of his mouth and hands he was able to raise it to full length before swallowing the whole of it in one clean go. It was thick enough to stretch the corners of his mouth till he thought his face might split in half, but not long enough to fill him to the back of his throat and cause him to gag.
Sayid's fingers raked through his hair, pausing occasionally to tug a few strands or hold him tighter to Sayid's pelvis. All it took was a few well timed swirls around the head, and Sayid was already moaning.
He came unexpectedly, tasting too warm, and fruity and bitter. Sawyer removed his mouth and spit on the ground, wiping his hand on the back of his mouth.
"Would you like...?" Sayid said, offering him a hand up, ever the gentleman in action and in words.
"No. No, Sayid, it's fine." He put his clothes back on and let his feet carry him back to the beach.
***
Jack had not planned for Boone to show up at his tent once the sun had set and the torches had been lit. In fact, he had not been expecting him at all. Though all things considered, maybe that was a bit foolish of him.
"Um, I was just coming to see if you could maybe look at my foot? I stepped on this thorn today and Locke said it might get infected." His silhouette stood illuminated by the blazing campfire behind him, and if he cocked his head just so, Jack could make out his features, glowing in the warm light.
"Alright," he said, feeling a familiar sense of obligations rise up from his chest to claim him. He shifted back in the fine sand and tried to channel an ounce of bedside manor, but found his stockpile empty.
Boone squatted down, all of a sudden overwhelmingly close in what was meant to be a one man tent, taking up every spare inch of space, breathing damp and warm onto Jack's neck. Personal space eliminated, he could see a certain enamored quality to Boone's eyes, and a vague, hopeless smile on his lips which told the same sad story Sawyer had been telling him for weeks.
"You didn't come here for your foot, did you?" Jack said softly.
"No. I didn't."
Boone was quick to propel himself forward, catching Jack's lips in a awkward, unpracticed kiss which sent waves of shock from Jack's mouth to his brain and back again. A second, more fevered kiss followed. Jack did not protest.
Boone undressed the both of them, first shirts, then jeans, and finally boxers, until both of them are laid across the length of Jack's tent, their heads bumping against one end, their toes another. Boone was young and supple, his body a testament to youth and while not inexperienced, Jack could see that it lacked the marks and technique of a more practiced man. The sort of practice which stems from monogamy spread out over years and fights and rough make ups and the occasional, uninhibited, tender moment. It was foreign, this youth, and it felt wrong but Jack soldiered on.
He didn't ask about Sawyer, and Jack couldn't help but feel resentment for him growing somewhere beneath his diaphragm.
He used little slick and less technique, but Boone straddled his hips nonetheless and told him over and over again that he wanted to be fucked. There were no more kisses then, just Boone sliding up and down across the length of Jack's dick, quietly gasping now and then, and Jack laying back in the sand and biting his lip.
Jack came, felt it coming and building, but did not tell Boone. He knew he should've said something then, "thank you" or "I'm sorry," knew more that he should've done something, suck him off, or just jerk him off. However, he didn't. All he did was slip back into his shorts and watch Boone leave the same way he came in, momentarily illuminated by the fire.
***
Two days later, Sawyer was walking along the beach with a tattered copy of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and Jack was coming back from another long, exploratory walk. It was the first time they had seen each other in more than forty-eight hours, and Sawyer was willing to swear on his mother's grave that he almost had a heart attack.
"I don't like this." Sawyer said, his eyes refusing to leave Jack's.
"Me either."
"You wanna kiss and make up?"
Jack smiled. Sawyer's book laid forgotten on the beach.
They made the short walk back to Sawyer's tent in silence, both feeling a little unsure, a little uptight and more or less unfamiliar in their own skin. But they found their old pace and rhythm easily, keeping up with each other without having to think. And that made things a little more bearable, at least, till they made it inside.
Their mouths fit together like a key in a lock, either of their heads automatically tilting to one side or the other to allow for a proper, well practiced kiss. Jack's mouth was wet and warm, like every mouth he supposed, but it somehow felt different, a more perfect example of something more than a billion people possessed.
Their clothes fell aside slowly, each taking the time to enjoy each other's skin, rediscovering favorite places to touch and lick and kiss. How a well placed nibble on Jack's throat or earlobe could make him dissolve into a puddle of incoherency, or how the way in which Jack's tongue could circle his nipples made him unbearably hard.
"Missed this," Jack said when he felt a well slicked finger at his entrance while Sawyer's mouth took it's time to kiss up and down his sternum. And Sawyer could tell when he looked up and met his eye that he meant it, probably more than he even realized.
"Missed you." Sawyer answered, slipping in a second finger and finding Jack's prostate just where he had left it last, making Jack's head fall back and suck in a hard breath of air.
Three fingers, then four, and Jack was bucking against his hand, his eyes begging, nearly whimpering with desire. Sawyer decided he was willing to oblige.
He lined himself up at Jack's entrance and pushed gently, feeling the give of Jack's muscles as he sheathed himself. The rhythm he set was slow, punctuated by moments of unbearably chaste kisses whilst buried deep inside Jack, and it took about every gram of strength he had not to just throw self-control aside and fuck Jack into the sand, but they both knew that this was much more than fucking. This was the apology they both owed to each other, that neither of them were going to get, and Sawyer was intent on making it last.
And when he did come, with his hand clasped around Jack's spent cock, all he really wanted to do was collapse next to Jack and fall asleep for several days. Jack, as it would turn out, had other ideas.
"Sawyer?" Jack's voice came, soft and unsure, and Sawyer felt the warmth of Jack's flushed cheek pressed against his chest, and Jack's searingly warm body pressing against his side.
"Yeah?" He yawned, throwing an arm around Jack's shoulder and closing the distance between them, disregarding the uncomfortable, sticky feel of sweat against sweat.
"This is kind of important."
"I'm all ears." He said, already feeling his eyelids begin to droop.
"I fucked Boone."
The arm Sawyer haD around Jack tensed momentarily as he struggled to quell a spark of jealousy that threatened to lit in his chest. He bit his tongue and reminded himself of the messy, clumsy encounter he and Sayid had had only just after he and Jack had fought and chasing out the mental images of Boone's smug face with the addition of a bloody, smashed nose.
"And I know that that's what this whole fight was about, and I want you to know that you were right, he did want it. I was being stupid about it. And I feel like shit, and I shouldn't have done it, and I understand if you're upset. But it was stupid and awful and awkward and more importantly, it made me realize that... I don't really want to do this with anybody else."
Sawyer let out a low sigh, and his grip on Jack tightened ever so slightly, feeling a small wave of relief wash over him.
"Well," He said slowly after a long, silent moment, "I guess you're gonna want to know that I blew Sayid."
"Sayid?" Jack asked, sounding both incredulous and somehow amused. "Iraqi, good with torture, Muslim Sayid?"
"The very same."
"And you blew him?"
"Yep." Sawyer smiled and pressed his lips against Jack's forehead. "It was stupid and awful and a thousand times more awkward than whatever you and Metro might've done, I guarantee it. And for the record, I ain't interested in doing that with anyone else either."
"So we're good?"
"Very."
"Good."
Rating: hard R
Pairing: Sawyer/Sayid, Jack/Boone, Jack/Sawyer established relationship
Summary: Jack and Sawyer take a break.
Disclaimer: Lost is property of ABC. I am in no way claiming ownership of any characters involved. I intend to receive no monetary benefit from this work and intend no copyright infringement.
Notes: Set in a cracked out AU in which either: (take your pick) Jack and Sawyer enter a relationship during S1, or Boone doesn't die. Written for fosfomifira, at the Luau for absence makes the heart grow fonder, and relevant to the interests of former queens: haldoor, hopelessfangirl, alemyrddin, kellysparrow (if you're taking the first of the two AU options) and alliecat8- BUT DON'T WORRY YOUR FICS ARE HOPEFULLY COMING SOON AS WELL, I just thought this might tide you over in the meantime.
Absence and Fondness
It was easy enough to find Sayid, not that he had set off intending to in the first place. His own blind frustration had delivered him there, sending him traipsing off into the jungle to battle underbrush and hopefully blow off some much needed steam, when who should he happened upon but Sayid, playing McGiver up on one of the half dozen ledges that overlooked sandy white beaches and endless blue water. It was a sight for a postcard, and Sawyer couldn't help but resent the damn island for ruining tropical vacations for the rest of his life.
"Watcha doin', Ali?" He said, swiping at his eyes with the heel of his hand.
Sayid glanced back at him offhandedly, but did not turn, his focus remaining firmly on the tangle of wires he seemed to be unraveling.
"This is the highest point on the island that is not covered by a canopy of trees," he said, simply. "Hurley and I happened upon it a few days ago and thought it might be worth a try to bring the radio equipment up here."
Sawyer nodded, swallowing a great lump that had collected in his throat and considering the dirt he'd kicked up with great reverence. He had never made it this far east, he realized with a vague sense of surprise he couldn't quite place the origin of.
"I got a proposition for you, Sayid."
"Yes?" Sayid said, meeting his gaze with a perfectly poised raise of an eyebrow.
"Yeah," he said, nodding roughly and kicking up a bit more dust, just for the sake of it. "See, the way I figure it, you're a man with needs, am I right? Being on this island, you know, we got food and water and mangoes and shit but sometimes a man needs, you get what I'm saying? Something you just can't ignore once it gets to be too long because you just can't escape it, this need. Gets too be too much to handle sometimes, you know?"
Sayid turned away, and Sawyer felt the bubbling discomfort in his stomach begin to churn again. "Sawyer, you are going to have to be more specific if you are going to make a point." He said, his voice turning frigid even in the island's overwhelming tropical humidity.
"The point," he says, speaking around the crushing clench of his jaw, "is that you have needs, Sayid, and so do I. All I'm trying to say is all we gotta do is put two and two together and we'll make ourselves a nice little equation, alright?"
Sayid seemed to consider this, setting his wires aside with the broken radio from the cockpit and array of other electronic junk they've managed to find on the island. For a long moment, there is only considerate, thoughtful silence broken by the crashing of waves a hundred feet below. Then, Sayid stood, slowly, and addressed Sawyer, toe-to-toe. "And Jack?"
"We're on a break."
"Alright, then."
They walked into the jungle because fuck, they were miles from anyone who might care about what they were about to do and Sawyer knew it had to be quick because it couldn't be anything else. And under the canopy of green, vibrant leaves they stripped, quickly and separately, before setting out for the task at hand.
They kissed- Sayid with a certain amount of technique Sawyer hadn't expected, and maybe in another time would've enjoyed- but Sawyer was quick to realize that Sayid's foreign mouth was simply not shaped in the right manner for kissing, his lips too large and his open mouth too wide for Sawyer's tastes, and turned his attention to other things.
Sayid's skin, he discovered, was soft, beautifully, exquisitely, brown from head to toe, and inexplicably salty. Fine black hairs spread across the expanse of his arms and legs, with curling tufts creating a small trail from chesst to belly and hips. He smelled of sweat, but then again, who didn't?
He found where Sayid stood at half mast easily, the organ pressing insistently against his hip, and using a combination of his mouth and hands he was able to raise it to full length before swallowing the whole of it in one clean go. It was thick enough to stretch the corners of his mouth till he thought his face might split in half, but not long enough to fill him to the back of his throat and cause him to gag.
Sayid's fingers raked through his hair, pausing occasionally to tug a few strands or hold him tighter to Sayid's pelvis. All it took was a few well timed swirls around the head, and Sayid was already moaning.
He came unexpectedly, tasting too warm, and fruity and bitter. Sawyer removed his mouth and spit on the ground, wiping his hand on the back of his mouth.
"Would you like...?" Sayid said, offering him a hand up, ever the gentleman in action and in words.
"No. No, Sayid, it's fine." He put his clothes back on and let his feet carry him back to the beach.
***
Jack had not planned for Boone to show up at his tent once the sun had set and the torches had been lit. In fact, he had not been expecting him at all. Though all things considered, maybe that was a bit foolish of him.
"Um, I was just coming to see if you could maybe look at my foot? I stepped on this thorn today and Locke said it might get infected." His silhouette stood illuminated by the blazing campfire behind him, and if he cocked his head just so, Jack could make out his features, glowing in the warm light.
"Alright," he said, feeling a familiar sense of obligations rise up from his chest to claim him. He shifted back in the fine sand and tried to channel an ounce of bedside manor, but found his stockpile empty.
Boone squatted down, all of a sudden overwhelmingly close in what was meant to be a one man tent, taking up every spare inch of space, breathing damp and warm onto Jack's neck. Personal space eliminated, he could see a certain enamored quality to Boone's eyes, and a vague, hopeless smile on his lips which told the same sad story Sawyer had been telling him for weeks.
"You didn't come here for your foot, did you?" Jack said softly.
"No. I didn't."
Boone was quick to propel himself forward, catching Jack's lips in a awkward, unpracticed kiss which sent waves of shock from Jack's mouth to his brain and back again. A second, more fevered kiss followed. Jack did not protest.
Boone undressed the both of them, first shirts, then jeans, and finally boxers, until both of them are laid across the length of Jack's tent, their heads bumping against one end, their toes another. Boone was young and supple, his body a testament to youth and while not inexperienced, Jack could see that it lacked the marks and technique of a more practiced man. The sort of practice which stems from monogamy spread out over years and fights and rough make ups and the occasional, uninhibited, tender moment. It was foreign, this youth, and it felt wrong but Jack soldiered on.
He didn't ask about Sawyer, and Jack couldn't help but feel resentment for him growing somewhere beneath his diaphragm.
He used little slick and less technique, but Boone straddled his hips nonetheless and told him over and over again that he wanted to be fucked. There were no more kisses then, just Boone sliding up and down across the length of Jack's dick, quietly gasping now and then, and Jack laying back in the sand and biting his lip.
Jack came, felt it coming and building, but did not tell Boone. He knew he should've said something then, "thank you" or "I'm sorry," knew more that he should've done something, suck him off, or just jerk him off. However, he didn't. All he did was slip back into his shorts and watch Boone leave the same way he came in, momentarily illuminated by the fire.
***
Two days later, Sawyer was walking along the beach with a tattered copy of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and Jack was coming back from another long, exploratory walk. It was the first time they had seen each other in more than forty-eight hours, and Sawyer was willing to swear on his mother's grave that he almost had a heart attack.
"I don't like this." Sawyer said, his eyes refusing to leave Jack's.
"Me either."
"You wanna kiss and make up?"
Jack smiled. Sawyer's book laid forgotten on the beach.
They made the short walk back to Sawyer's tent in silence, both feeling a little unsure, a little uptight and more or less unfamiliar in their own skin. But they found their old pace and rhythm easily, keeping up with each other without having to think. And that made things a little more bearable, at least, till they made it inside.
Their mouths fit together like a key in a lock, either of their heads automatically tilting to one side or the other to allow for a proper, well practiced kiss. Jack's mouth was wet and warm, like every mouth he supposed, but it somehow felt different, a more perfect example of something more than a billion people possessed.
Their clothes fell aside slowly, each taking the time to enjoy each other's skin, rediscovering favorite places to touch and lick and kiss. How a well placed nibble on Jack's throat or earlobe could make him dissolve into a puddle of incoherency, or how the way in which Jack's tongue could circle his nipples made him unbearably hard.
"Missed this," Jack said when he felt a well slicked finger at his entrance while Sawyer's mouth took it's time to kiss up and down his sternum. And Sawyer could tell when he looked up and met his eye that he meant it, probably more than he even realized.
"Missed you." Sawyer answered, slipping in a second finger and finding Jack's prostate just where he had left it last, making Jack's head fall back and suck in a hard breath of air.
Three fingers, then four, and Jack was bucking against his hand, his eyes begging, nearly whimpering with desire. Sawyer decided he was willing to oblige.
He lined himself up at Jack's entrance and pushed gently, feeling the give of Jack's muscles as he sheathed himself. The rhythm he set was slow, punctuated by moments of unbearably chaste kisses whilst buried deep inside Jack, and it took about every gram of strength he had not to just throw self-control aside and fuck Jack into the sand, but they both knew that this was much more than fucking. This was the apology they both owed to each other, that neither of them were going to get, and Sawyer was intent on making it last.
And when he did come, with his hand clasped around Jack's spent cock, all he really wanted to do was collapse next to Jack and fall asleep for several days. Jack, as it would turn out, had other ideas.
"Sawyer?" Jack's voice came, soft and unsure, and Sawyer felt the warmth of Jack's flushed cheek pressed against his chest, and Jack's searingly warm body pressing against his side.
"Yeah?" He yawned, throwing an arm around Jack's shoulder and closing the distance between them, disregarding the uncomfortable, sticky feel of sweat against sweat.
"This is kind of important."
"I'm all ears." He said, already feeling his eyelids begin to droop.
"I fucked Boone."
The arm Sawyer haD around Jack tensed momentarily as he struggled to quell a spark of jealousy that threatened to lit in his chest. He bit his tongue and reminded himself of the messy, clumsy encounter he and Sayid had had only just after he and Jack had fought and chasing out the mental images of Boone's smug face with the addition of a bloody, smashed nose.
"And I know that that's what this whole fight was about, and I want you to know that you were right, he did want it. I was being stupid about it. And I feel like shit, and I shouldn't have done it, and I understand if you're upset. But it was stupid and awful and awkward and more importantly, it made me realize that... I don't really want to do this with anybody else."
Sawyer let out a low sigh, and his grip on Jack tightened ever so slightly, feeling a small wave of relief wash over him.
"Well," He said slowly after a long, silent moment, "I guess you're gonna want to know that I blew Sayid."
"Sayid?" Jack asked, sounding both incredulous and somehow amused. "Iraqi, good with torture, Muslim Sayid?"
"The very same."
"And you blew him?"
"Yep." Sawyer smiled and pressed his lips against Jack's forehead. "It was stupid and awful and a thousand times more awkward than whatever you and Metro might've done, I guarantee it. And for the record, I ain't interested in doing that with anyone else either."
"So we're good?"
"Very."
"Good."