old Lost fic repost #5: Dirty (Jack/Sawyer, NC-17)
[Repost: Originally published at lostfic.com on Nov. 29, 2005. What follows here is untouched, C&Ped as is (except the LJ cut).]
Note: I’m weary of weeks spent with Jack nursing Sawyer through his bullet wound…not that I haven’t enjoyed the stories, especially over at Livejournal, I’m just tired of trying to write them. Thought I’d give the boys some ghetto cleaning, early-to-mid season one, before that luxurious shower came along. Just a little snarky banter and dirty fluff to brighten your day. My many thanks to those who have pioneered the Teasing Someone in the Ocean/Pool genre. If I’m plagiarizing, it’s deeply unconscious.
Dirty
(hey, it’s better than the original title: “Coming Clean,” *wink-wink*)
Sawyer had just peeled off his muddy clothes and climbed into the waist-deep water when he heard rustling behind him.
He tossed a few words over his shoulder in a frustrated growl: “If that’s you, you dumb dick, I think there’s only enough water for one mud-covered jackass today.”
Jack’s voice answered, “It’s not my fault you’re a hard-headed son of a bitch that doesn’t listen to other people.”
Sawyer retorted, “You mean I don’t listen to orders. And you’re the one-“ he swung around and was suddenly quiet. Jack had peeled down to his pale blue boxers and was staring at him.
“I’m the one what?” he said, advancing toward the water.
“You’re the one clumsy enough to drop our end of the fuckin’ thing. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have been up to my armpits in that sinkhole.”
“I should have left you there,” Jack said, but he was smiling faintly, almost a smirk, that same casual but definitely knowing smirk he always seemed to have for Sawyer, as if he knew the things that Sawyer was thinking when he looked at him. Sawyer didn’t even know the things Sawyer was thinking when he looked at Jack, least of all when a mud-soaked Jack was sliding into the opposite end of the pool, where the water was much more shallow. There was absolutely no way Jack could know.
“Why didn’t you?” Sawyer said.
“Why didn’t I what?”
“Leave me.”
Jack looked up, suddenly serious. “You’re joking.”
“No. You hate me. Why would you help me?”
He frowned for a moment, finally saying, “If you turned into swamp thing, who else would I have to bicker with?”
“Freckles.”
“Good point,” he said, turning his back on Sawyer to scoop up water and pour it over his head, using his fingernails to scratch the mud and leaves out of his hair. Sawyer thought he should probably turn away, but you can’t not stare at someone’s ass sticking out at you, wet boxers clinging fiercely. You couldn’t not examine his upper thighs where they peeked above the water line. That bastard has such strong legs, he thought, then he shook his head and turned away from Jack, determined not to watch his torso swing back up into plain view. He didn’t have to anyway. He could imagine his thick, heavy shoulders stretching his arms up to reach his head. He was something of an expert on Jack Shepherd’s back, actually, and what was strange was he didn’t remember how he’d gotten to be.
Sawyer concentrated on using his fingers to scrub at his chest and stomach, and he focused on being pissed again. That was so much easier. It was all Jack’s fault, really. He’d dragged him out of his shelter, cajoling and finally threatening him into helping them carry some godforsaken piece of the plane to the caves-through a swamp that had apparently migrated overnight into their territory. And then, after his effort to be useful, to suffer the indignity of being pulled out by none other than Doctor Wonderful… He hated the feel of the slimy, muddy water. Who knew how many bacteria were now swimming all over his body.
“Need help?”
Sawyer whirled around to find Jack washing his chest cheerfully as if he weren’t trying to get clean in a half-dirty pond. It was a nice chest, with wonderful dark hairs now plastered to it. Sawyer closed his eyes and spat, “No thanks. I’ve been washing myself for a lot of years now.”
“You haven’t gotten the mud off your back.”
“So. Neither have you.”
“We could help each other out.”
Sawyer wrinkled up his face, then he contemplated helping him, just to see if he could shock him, but he decided against it. He was naked, and he had no idea how his body might respond. But Jack was moving toward him anyway, taking his place in the water beside him, sliding under the surface briefly, apparently hoping to coax the mud off.
When he resurfaced, he turned to model his back for Sawyer, who said, “Still dirty.”
“Then it’s hopeless for you too.” At that, Jack retreated to his end of the pool again, and it was agonizing watching his ass emerge from the water, the way his boxers slid down and threatened to fall off. Finally, he let them, retrieving them from the water and flinging them to the side of the pool. Sawyer’s eyes closed instantly, almost in instinct, as he imagined taking a cheek in each hand, squeezing. Then he remembered to be annoyed by Jack’s mere presence, as always.
“What the hell are you doing?” Sawyer said.
“Come on. Don’t tell me you’re not naked over there.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not standing here on display.”
Jack snorted, a hint of a smile on his face. Over his shoulder, he said, “Then don’t look. Besides, I don’t have anything you haven’t seen before.” He stared at Sawyer long and hard, amused and slightly incredulous; then, as if to comply with Sawyer’s sudden prudery, he began to walk himself down into the deeper water. Of course, he had to face him to do that, so that Sawyer got a bird’s eye view of his cock. Even soft, it made Sawyer twitch a little, especially the confident way Jack advanced toward him without trying to cover himself and without his cock stirring the slightest bit. He would never have believed that Jack could be so open about nudity-but Jack was surprising him today.
Jack was now beside him again, standing in water that made a line across his belly button. Sawyer could only turn away and do some silent incantations to ward off an erection.
Jack said, “You’re still dirty.”
“What do you care?”
“So am I. I don’t want to go to sleep tonight knowing my back’s covered in brown-green swamp sludge. It’s not healthy.”
“I didn’t ask you to help me out of the sinkhole. Go get Freckles to clean you up. Might make her day.”
“Would it?”
“She’s an odd one. Might like to see your skinny ass.”
“So who are you going to get to clean your skinny ass?”
Before Sawyer could make some ill-advised retort that might draw Jack’s attention to his ass, Jack was behind him, scooping up water and pouring it over his back, then scouring his shoulders with first his fingertips then his short, ragged fingernails. He was all business, working efficiently, applying just the right amount of pressure. Sawyer could feel the heat radiating from the other man’s body and his breath hitting the back of his neck.
Slowly but surely, as if in response to what Sawyer both wanted and feared, the cleaning turned to something like a massage, and the massage moved lower until Jack’s hands were kneading his lower back. It would have just been insurmountably strange, Sawyer fighting arousal and losing, releasing a soft moan of appreciation, but then there was another noise, one of satisfaction, escaping Jack’s lips. Sawyer wasn’t sure he heard it, but the possibility of it made him reinterpret Jack’s movements. This was not cleaning someone. This was trying to get someone hot and bothered. Maybe Jack had known all along how Sawyer felt, and now he was going out of his way to tease him, to make him hard so he could embarrass him later. If so, he had another thing coming.
Sawyer steadied his voice and said, “I think I’m done, doc. Maybe I should save Kate the trouble.” He turned to face Jack and spun him around almost too forcefully, unable to look in those brown eyes for even a second or watch the drops of water course through his beard and down a neck that must have been designed for hickeys.
He started just as Jack had, with the actual cleaning, but he more quickly turned to the groping, maintaining something like Jack’s professional yet sensual touch even as he moved his hands down in small, kneading motions all the way down until he was massaging Jack’s ass…and getting no complaints or threats from Jack. In fact, he heard the noise again, but it wasn’t satisfaction. He felt Jack sink into his touch for a moment, then tense up, and instinct kicked in as he began to see what was really happening, what the noise had always been. Sawyer slid a hand around Jack’s waist, across his stomach, and before Jack could protest, he was grasping Jack’s hard cock. Sawyer was still prepared to say something sarcastic, to stubbornly fight through his arousal to be victorious in this war of teasing. But Jack was backing into him, and Sawyer found his arms slipping tighter around Jack’s waist, his hips thrusting against Jack’s ass almost of their own volition.
Sawyer said, “What are you doing?”
Jack ground himself into Sawyer, his head falling back. “Oh, fuck.”
At that Sawyer lost it. “Fuck,” he echoed, and Jack turned in his arms, grabbing him by the hair and pulling their mouths together. Sawyer took no time before he was tugging at Jack’s hips, forcing their bodies together. He hadn’t felt this frantic since he was a teenager-he wanted his hands on any part of Jack he could reach. Their bodies slipped against each other under the water and above the water. Finally, Sawyer forced himself so close to Jack, so tightly between his legs, that he was grinding his cock against Jack’s hip bone and pressing his own thigh against Jack’s cock. He felt Jack’s hands grabbing at his chest and his back and his ass and his legs, pulling him closer as he kissed him roughly, first in short, furious bursts then in deep, hard kisses that made it hard for Sawyer to breathe.
Sawyer finally stopped them, sure his bottom lip would be bruised from Jack’s intense sucking, and said, “You trying to kill me, doc?”
“Maybe.”
There was too much open flirtation in his voice, and just a hint of violence, and Sawyer couldn’t believe he still hadn’t kissed the man’s neck, hadn’t started just below his earlobe, the place that he somehow knew would drive Jack insane, hadn’t kissed down and into the short, dark hair on his neck, over to his adam’s apple. Moving his lips toward Jack’s neck, Sawyer couldn’t even think of anything dirty to whisper in his ear. He wasn’t really sure he could think very clearly, nor did he want to, because thinking might make him stop. So he started at Jack’s earlobe, nibbling his way up and back down, earning groans and more pressure on his hips. Every move of his teeth and tongue and lips down to Jack’s shoulder, back to his neck, across to dart his tongue deep into Jack’s mouth, made him harder, if that were possible. It was something about having that much control over the beautiful noises he could feel from Jack’s throat as he kissed it, sucked it, ran his tongue obscenely over it.
Just when Sawyer thought things might be on the verge of being over prematurely, Jack did something Sawyer should have expected him to do: he stopped moving altogether, suddenly pulling Sawyer’s mouth away from his and looking him deep in the eyes. Rather calmly, he said, “You wanna keep going, or do you wanna run screaming and forget this ever happened?”
The intensity in his face scared Sawyer a little, how he could be that horny and that in control at the same time. It very nearly drove him crazy. He didn’t think he could ever view Jack’s bossiness the same way again. But he couldn’t betray that much fascination or fear, so he tried to be flippant: “Do you always talk this much when you’re about to fuck somebody?”
Jack just gave him an evil grin not unlike his own and pulled him toward the shallow water. All at once, their cocks broke the surface of the water and Jack was on his knees, taking Sawyer in his mouth, a little at first but then allowing his full length to slide in. Sawyer felt his hands sliding between his thighs, fingers teasing around his balls, one gently probing at his asshole. Sawyer bit his lip so he wouldn’t scream. As nice as it felt, he sometimes hated the way having someone suck you off meant you couldn’t really touch them, make them as crazy as they made you. So he tapped Jack’s head and groaned a little as his warm mouth left him.
Sawyer said, breathless, “Not that that doesn’t feel fuckin’ wonderful, but it takes me a long time that way.”
For a moment, Sawyer forgot that Jack’s mouth had just been on his cock because Jack gave him that annoyed face he does so well. “So?”
“This is the only time you’ll ever hear this, so enjoy it: fuck me.”
Jack smirked, but only for a brief second before following Sawyer to the low bank on the shallow end. Jack said, “It’s been a while for me.”
“Probably not as long as it’s been for me.”
Sawyer was just a little shaky when he bent over and rested his elbows on the bank. Without asking him, Jack decided to go easy on him, but the anticipation was somehow worse than pain for Sawyer. One finger, then two, then three. Jack eased his cock into him slowly until Sawyer in impatience thrust back against him, then Jack was shoving in, filling him so quickly it hurt like hell. Then it stopped hurting and all Sawyer felt was Jack’s hard cock splitting him in two and moans that seemed to vibrate his whole body. Jack’s hand only closed around his cock when Sawyer almost couldn’t stand it, but then so soon Jack was coming, screaming, finally sliding out quickly. Almost immediately, he turned Sawyer, going down on his knees and taking him in his mouth again, sucking him so hard in that intense, shaky, post-orgasm haze that Sawyer knew he might be more than a little sore the next day. He didn’t know how the man was able to breathe, but he patiently teased the head of his cock with his tongue over and over until Sawyer cried out and came into his mouth.
It was odd for him to look down and see Jack swallow and to have that face rise up toward his and kiss him. He tasted himself on Jack’s lips, but he barely noticed. He was too busy reconciling Jack’s familiar bossy voice with the wet, hard body leaning him against the bank, the quick tongue probing his mouth and traveling across his jaw.
Sawyer was afraid Jack was going to suddenly turn serious on him, but he didn’t. He simply released him and climbed out of the water. Calmly, as if they hadn’t just shared the most improbable pair of orgasms in the history of the world, Jack said, “You’re dirty again.”
“Aren’t you going to help me clean up?”
“After I get a drink of water. You’re exhausting, Sawyer. I should have known.”
Something in the casual way Jack said that made alarms go off in Sawyer’s head. “What?”
“I should have known you’d be an exhausting lover.”
Lover. He kinda liked the sound of that. But there was still that nagging question. “What?”
Slowly, Jack took a drink from his water bottle and returned to the pool, dropping in beside Sawyer. Dead-pan serious, he said, “Do you really think I couldn’t get Kate to wash my back?”
“What?” This time it was simple shock.
Jack was in the deeper end before he said, “Are you hard of hearing today or just slow? I roped you into helping me so you’d get dirty, I followed you here, and I tried to get you hot and angry enough to go at me. Should have done it weeks ago when you started looking at me like you wanted to jump my bones.”
Sawyer fought two things: the urge to let his jaw drop and the urge to beat the hell out of Jack. He really hated to be tricked and to think Jack knew him well enough to manipulate him like that, but the idea that someone would want him badly enough to contrive this whole thing…
Of course, the forefront of his brain had to maintain some sort of indignant anger. He said, “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”
“Must be. I got what I wanted. And I didn’t even have to bottom.”
At this, his mouth did drop open. “You were gonna let me…?”
Jack blushed then, but he quickly counteracted it with a smirk that spread like wildfire, almost down into his very posture. “I was gonna beg, in fact.”
Sawyer fought through the waist-deep water to get to him, holding him tightly from behind, trying not to put his mouth on him, though that was really the only thing he wanted to do. “I’d like to hear that.”
“No way,” Jack said. “Besides, I don’t have a recovery time that fast. Neither do you, old man.” He laughed and Sawyer released him.
“I think I hate you.”
“Think I don’t know that? Think I don’t feel the same way? But you definitely want me, and if you do, you’ve got to be nice enough to me to wash my back.”
“You’re such a weird son of a bitch, and cocky too.”
“You seem to go for that.”
“I think maybe you have a death wish.”
“You won’t kill me. Not now. Tell me, Sawyer, which part of me makes you the horniest?”
“Any part but your yapping mouth.”
“Now, I don’t believe that’s what you were thinking a few minutes ago.”
“Was I the only one here a few minutes ago? Were you not begging to go deeper inside me? What was it? ‘Fuck, oh fuck, Sawyer. God I want you. You are so fucking beautiful. I want you so fucking bad.’”
Jack just grinned. “Tell me you hate me now.”
“Just you wait until I can get it up again, you dirty motherfucker.”
“Looking forward to it,” he said seriously, but with a slight smile that Sawyer could now interpret as carefully veiled desire. “In the meantime, let me clean your back.”
So Sawyer submitted to Doctor Jack’s able hands again, knowing he should be bothered by how quickly anger could turn to innuendo and scared of how easily he’d let himself be touched by a person who likely couldn’t maintain this controlled, no-strings attitude. But if the suddenly-assertive Jack Sheppard wasn’t annoyed or afraid, neither was he.
~
Note: I’m weary of weeks spent with Jack nursing Sawyer through his bullet wound…not that I haven’t enjoyed the stories, especially over at Livejournal, I’m just tired of trying to write them. Thought I’d give the boys some ghetto cleaning, early-to-mid season one, before that luxurious shower came along. Just a little snarky banter and dirty fluff to brighten your day. My many thanks to those who have pioneered the Teasing Someone in the Ocean/Pool genre. If I’m plagiarizing, it’s deeply unconscious.
Dirty
(hey, it’s better than the original title: “Coming Clean,” *wink-wink*)
Sawyer had just peeled off his muddy clothes and climbed into the waist-deep water when he heard rustling behind him.
He tossed a few words over his shoulder in a frustrated growl: “If that’s you, you dumb dick, I think there’s only enough water for one mud-covered jackass today.”
Jack’s voice answered, “It’s not my fault you’re a hard-headed son of a bitch that doesn’t listen to other people.”
Sawyer retorted, “You mean I don’t listen to orders. And you’re the one-“ he swung around and was suddenly quiet. Jack had peeled down to his pale blue boxers and was staring at him.
“I’m the one what?” he said, advancing toward the water.
“You’re the one clumsy enough to drop our end of the fuckin’ thing. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have been up to my armpits in that sinkhole.”
“I should have left you there,” Jack said, but he was smiling faintly, almost a smirk, that same casual but definitely knowing smirk he always seemed to have for Sawyer, as if he knew the things that Sawyer was thinking when he looked at him. Sawyer didn’t even know the things Sawyer was thinking when he looked at Jack, least of all when a mud-soaked Jack was sliding into the opposite end of the pool, where the water was much more shallow. There was absolutely no way Jack could know.
“Why didn’t you?” Sawyer said.
“Why didn’t I what?”
“Leave me.”
Jack looked up, suddenly serious. “You’re joking.”
“No. You hate me. Why would you help me?”
He frowned for a moment, finally saying, “If you turned into swamp thing, who else would I have to bicker with?”
“Freckles.”
“Good point,” he said, turning his back on Sawyer to scoop up water and pour it over his head, using his fingernails to scratch the mud and leaves out of his hair. Sawyer thought he should probably turn away, but you can’t not stare at someone’s ass sticking out at you, wet boxers clinging fiercely. You couldn’t not examine his upper thighs where they peeked above the water line. That bastard has such strong legs, he thought, then he shook his head and turned away from Jack, determined not to watch his torso swing back up into plain view. He didn’t have to anyway. He could imagine his thick, heavy shoulders stretching his arms up to reach his head. He was something of an expert on Jack Shepherd’s back, actually, and what was strange was he didn’t remember how he’d gotten to be.
Sawyer concentrated on using his fingers to scrub at his chest and stomach, and he focused on being pissed again. That was so much easier. It was all Jack’s fault, really. He’d dragged him out of his shelter, cajoling and finally threatening him into helping them carry some godforsaken piece of the plane to the caves-through a swamp that had apparently migrated overnight into their territory. And then, after his effort to be useful, to suffer the indignity of being pulled out by none other than Doctor Wonderful… He hated the feel of the slimy, muddy water. Who knew how many bacteria were now swimming all over his body.
“Need help?”
Sawyer whirled around to find Jack washing his chest cheerfully as if he weren’t trying to get clean in a half-dirty pond. It was a nice chest, with wonderful dark hairs now plastered to it. Sawyer closed his eyes and spat, “No thanks. I’ve been washing myself for a lot of years now.”
“You haven’t gotten the mud off your back.”
“So. Neither have you.”
“We could help each other out.”
Sawyer wrinkled up his face, then he contemplated helping him, just to see if he could shock him, but he decided against it. He was naked, and he had no idea how his body might respond. But Jack was moving toward him anyway, taking his place in the water beside him, sliding under the surface briefly, apparently hoping to coax the mud off.
When he resurfaced, he turned to model his back for Sawyer, who said, “Still dirty.”
“Then it’s hopeless for you too.” At that, Jack retreated to his end of the pool again, and it was agonizing watching his ass emerge from the water, the way his boxers slid down and threatened to fall off. Finally, he let them, retrieving them from the water and flinging them to the side of the pool. Sawyer’s eyes closed instantly, almost in instinct, as he imagined taking a cheek in each hand, squeezing. Then he remembered to be annoyed by Jack’s mere presence, as always.
“What the hell are you doing?” Sawyer said.
“Come on. Don’t tell me you’re not naked over there.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not standing here on display.”
Jack snorted, a hint of a smile on his face. Over his shoulder, he said, “Then don’t look. Besides, I don’t have anything you haven’t seen before.” He stared at Sawyer long and hard, amused and slightly incredulous; then, as if to comply with Sawyer’s sudden prudery, he began to walk himself down into the deeper water. Of course, he had to face him to do that, so that Sawyer got a bird’s eye view of his cock. Even soft, it made Sawyer twitch a little, especially the confident way Jack advanced toward him without trying to cover himself and without his cock stirring the slightest bit. He would never have believed that Jack could be so open about nudity-but Jack was surprising him today.
Jack was now beside him again, standing in water that made a line across his belly button. Sawyer could only turn away and do some silent incantations to ward off an erection.
Jack said, “You’re still dirty.”
“What do you care?”
“So am I. I don’t want to go to sleep tonight knowing my back’s covered in brown-green swamp sludge. It’s not healthy.”
“I didn’t ask you to help me out of the sinkhole. Go get Freckles to clean you up. Might make her day.”
“Would it?”
“She’s an odd one. Might like to see your skinny ass.”
“So who are you going to get to clean your skinny ass?”
Before Sawyer could make some ill-advised retort that might draw Jack’s attention to his ass, Jack was behind him, scooping up water and pouring it over his back, then scouring his shoulders with first his fingertips then his short, ragged fingernails. He was all business, working efficiently, applying just the right amount of pressure. Sawyer could feel the heat radiating from the other man’s body and his breath hitting the back of his neck.
Slowly but surely, as if in response to what Sawyer both wanted and feared, the cleaning turned to something like a massage, and the massage moved lower until Jack’s hands were kneading his lower back. It would have just been insurmountably strange, Sawyer fighting arousal and losing, releasing a soft moan of appreciation, but then there was another noise, one of satisfaction, escaping Jack’s lips. Sawyer wasn’t sure he heard it, but the possibility of it made him reinterpret Jack’s movements. This was not cleaning someone. This was trying to get someone hot and bothered. Maybe Jack had known all along how Sawyer felt, and now he was going out of his way to tease him, to make him hard so he could embarrass him later. If so, he had another thing coming.
Sawyer steadied his voice and said, “I think I’m done, doc. Maybe I should save Kate the trouble.” He turned to face Jack and spun him around almost too forcefully, unable to look in those brown eyes for even a second or watch the drops of water course through his beard and down a neck that must have been designed for hickeys.
He started just as Jack had, with the actual cleaning, but he more quickly turned to the groping, maintaining something like Jack’s professional yet sensual touch even as he moved his hands down in small, kneading motions all the way down until he was massaging Jack’s ass…and getting no complaints or threats from Jack. In fact, he heard the noise again, but it wasn’t satisfaction. He felt Jack sink into his touch for a moment, then tense up, and instinct kicked in as he began to see what was really happening, what the noise had always been. Sawyer slid a hand around Jack’s waist, across his stomach, and before Jack could protest, he was grasping Jack’s hard cock. Sawyer was still prepared to say something sarcastic, to stubbornly fight through his arousal to be victorious in this war of teasing. But Jack was backing into him, and Sawyer found his arms slipping tighter around Jack’s waist, his hips thrusting against Jack’s ass almost of their own volition.
Sawyer said, “What are you doing?”
Jack ground himself into Sawyer, his head falling back. “Oh, fuck.”
At that Sawyer lost it. “Fuck,” he echoed, and Jack turned in his arms, grabbing him by the hair and pulling their mouths together. Sawyer took no time before he was tugging at Jack’s hips, forcing their bodies together. He hadn’t felt this frantic since he was a teenager-he wanted his hands on any part of Jack he could reach. Their bodies slipped against each other under the water and above the water. Finally, Sawyer forced himself so close to Jack, so tightly between his legs, that he was grinding his cock against Jack’s hip bone and pressing his own thigh against Jack’s cock. He felt Jack’s hands grabbing at his chest and his back and his ass and his legs, pulling him closer as he kissed him roughly, first in short, furious bursts then in deep, hard kisses that made it hard for Sawyer to breathe.
Sawyer finally stopped them, sure his bottom lip would be bruised from Jack’s intense sucking, and said, “You trying to kill me, doc?”
“Maybe.”
There was too much open flirtation in his voice, and just a hint of violence, and Sawyer couldn’t believe he still hadn’t kissed the man’s neck, hadn’t started just below his earlobe, the place that he somehow knew would drive Jack insane, hadn’t kissed down and into the short, dark hair on his neck, over to his adam’s apple. Moving his lips toward Jack’s neck, Sawyer couldn’t even think of anything dirty to whisper in his ear. He wasn’t really sure he could think very clearly, nor did he want to, because thinking might make him stop. So he started at Jack’s earlobe, nibbling his way up and back down, earning groans and more pressure on his hips. Every move of his teeth and tongue and lips down to Jack’s shoulder, back to his neck, across to dart his tongue deep into Jack’s mouth, made him harder, if that were possible. It was something about having that much control over the beautiful noises he could feel from Jack’s throat as he kissed it, sucked it, ran his tongue obscenely over it.
Just when Sawyer thought things might be on the verge of being over prematurely, Jack did something Sawyer should have expected him to do: he stopped moving altogether, suddenly pulling Sawyer’s mouth away from his and looking him deep in the eyes. Rather calmly, he said, “You wanna keep going, or do you wanna run screaming and forget this ever happened?”
The intensity in his face scared Sawyer a little, how he could be that horny and that in control at the same time. It very nearly drove him crazy. He didn’t think he could ever view Jack’s bossiness the same way again. But he couldn’t betray that much fascination or fear, so he tried to be flippant: “Do you always talk this much when you’re about to fuck somebody?”
Jack just gave him an evil grin not unlike his own and pulled him toward the shallow water. All at once, their cocks broke the surface of the water and Jack was on his knees, taking Sawyer in his mouth, a little at first but then allowing his full length to slide in. Sawyer felt his hands sliding between his thighs, fingers teasing around his balls, one gently probing at his asshole. Sawyer bit his lip so he wouldn’t scream. As nice as it felt, he sometimes hated the way having someone suck you off meant you couldn’t really touch them, make them as crazy as they made you. So he tapped Jack’s head and groaned a little as his warm mouth left him.
Sawyer said, breathless, “Not that that doesn’t feel fuckin’ wonderful, but it takes me a long time that way.”
For a moment, Sawyer forgot that Jack’s mouth had just been on his cock because Jack gave him that annoyed face he does so well. “So?”
“This is the only time you’ll ever hear this, so enjoy it: fuck me.”
Jack smirked, but only for a brief second before following Sawyer to the low bank on the shallow end. Jack said, “It’s been a while for me.”
“Probably not as long as it’s been for me.”
Sawyer was just a little shaky when he bent over and rested his elbows on the bank. Without asking him, Jack decided to go easy on him, but the anticipation was somehow worse than pain for Sawyer. One finger, then two, then three. Jack eased his cock into him slowly until Sawyer in impatience thrust back against him, then Jack was shoving in, filling him so quickly it hurt like hell. Then it stopped hurting and all Sawyer felt was Jack’s hard cock splitting him in two and moans that seemed to vibrate his whole body. Jack’s hand only closed around his cock when Sawyer almost couldn’t stand it, but then so soon Jack was coming, screaming, finally sliding out quickly. Almost immediately, he turned Sawyer, going down on his knees and taking him in his mouth again, sucking him so hard in that intense, shaky, post-orgasm haze that Sawyer knew he might be more than a little sore the next day. He didn’t know how the man was able to breathe, but he patiently teased the head of his cock with his tongue over and over until Sawyer cried out and came into his mouth.
It was odd for him to look down and see Jack swallow and to have that face rise up toward his and kiss him. He tasted himself on Jack’s lips, but he barely noticed. He was too busy reconciling Jack’s familiar bossy voice with the wet, hard body leaning him against the bank, the quick tongue probing his mouth and traveling across his jaw.
Sawyer was afraid Jack was going to suddenly turn serious on him, but he didn’t. He simply released him and climbed out of the water. Calmly, as if they hadn’t just shared the most improbable pair of orgasms in the history of the world, Jack said, “You’re dirty again.”
“Aren’t you going to help me clean up?”
“After I get a drink of water. You’re exhausting, Sawyer. I should have known.”
Something in the casual way Jack said that made alarms go off in Sawyer’s head. “What?”
“I should have known you’d be an exhausting lover.”
Lover. He kinda liked the sound of that. But there was still that nagging question. “What?”
Slowly, Jack took a drink from his water bottle and returned to the pool, dropping in beside Sawyer. Dead-pan serious, he said, “Do you really think I couldn’t get Kate to wash my back?”
“What?” This time it was simple shock.
Jack was in the deeper end before he said, “Are you hard of hearing today or just slow? I roped you into helping me so you’d get dirty, I followed you here, and I tried to get you hot and angry enough to go at me. Should have done it weeks ago when you started looking at me like you wanted to jump my bones.”
Sawyer fought two things: the urge to let his jaw drop and the urge to beat the hell out of Jack. He really hated to be tricked and to think Jack knew him well enough to manipulate him like that, but the idea that someone would want him badly enough to contrive this whole thing…
Of course, the forefront of his brain had to maintain some sort of indignant anger. He said, “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”
“Must be. I got what I wanted. And I didn’t even have to bottom.”
At this, his mouth did drop open. “You were gonna let me…?”
Jack blushed then, but he quickly counteracted it with a smirk that spread like wildfire, almost down into his very posture. “I was gonna beg, in fact.”
Sawyer fought through the waist-deep water to get to him, holding him tightly from behind, trying not to put his mouth on him, though that was really the only thing he wanted to do. “I’d like to hear that.”
“No way,” Jack said. “Besides, I don’t have a recovery time that fast. Neither do you, old man.” He laughed and Sawyer released him.
“I think I hate you.”
“Think I don’t know that? Think I don’t feel the same way? But you definitely want me, and if you do, you’ve got to be nice enough to me to wash my back.”
“You’re such a weird son of a bitch, and cocky too.”
“You seem to go for that.”
“I think maybe you have a death wish.”
“You won’t kill me. Not now. Tell me, Sawyer, which part of me makes you the horniest?”
“Any part but your yapping mouth.”
“Now, I don’t believe that’s what you were thinking a few minutes ago.”
“Was I the only one here a few minutes ago? Were you not begging to go deeper inside me? What was it? ‘Fuck, oh fuck, Sawyer. God I want you. You are so fucking beautiful. I want you so fucking bad.’”
Jack just grinned. “Tell me you hate me now.”
“Just you wait until I can get it up again, you dirty motherfucker.”
“Looking forward to it,” he said seriously, but with a slight smile that Sawyer could now interpret as carefully veiled desire. “In the meantime, let me clean your back.”
So Sawyer submitted to Doctor Jack’s able hands again, knowing he should be bothered by how quickly anger could turn to innuendo and scared of how easily he’d let himself be touched by a person who likely couldn’t maintain this controlled, no-strings attitude. But if the suddenly-assertive Jack Sheppard wasn’t annoyed or afraid, neither was he.
~