Ficlet: "Better" (Jack/Kate)
Title: Better
Pairing: Jack/Kate
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: PWP, spoilers for “What Kate Did” (2.9)
Summary: Does PWP need a summary? Okay, so I decided I wasn’t satisfied with…that thing that happened that I can’t mention without spoiling. Decided to go back to it as I remind myself how to write het smut.
Better
Jack had at first been happy with the hatch, in a way. It was perplexingly weird, but it provided things they needed desperately-food, medicine, laundry facilities, a shower. Sawyer would be dead without them, but Jack was beginning to feel like the hatch that was making Sawyer well was slowly killing him. The more he was down there, the more he missed the sunlight and the ocean and even the jungle. At least out there he could breathe. He felt like he would trade sweat and sunburn for feeling alive and not stuck on auto-pilot, sitting beside Sawyer’s sick bed in the dim dampness, mired in his own thoughts. Hopefully, with Sawyer nearly well, his tour of duty would soon end.
Jack lay aside the book he was reading-or, not really reading but staring at as he brooded-and put a hand to Sawyer’s forehead. He was cool, sleeping comfortably, and it was nowhere near time for his medicine, so Jack made the executive decision to head outside for a while, perhaps take a walk out to the golf course to see if anyone was playing. He nodded at Eko as he left, promising to return soon, and Eko only regarded him with that coolness he wore like a suit of armor. Jack had begun to like that coolness; it was reassuring.
Emerging from the hatch, Jack shaded his eyes with his hand, squinting into the bright light, for some reason pausing there, just outside the threshold. He heard a rustle, boots through grass, and was startled to find Kate standing in front of him, eyeing him oddly. She wore her usual uniform of tank top and jeans, and Jack couldn’t help but notice she had on no bra. That was all he noticed before her mouth opened for her to speak, only to close as she stepped into him and suddenly her lips were on his and it was like no time had passed since the last time they did that. Or that would be the case if this wasn’t different. This Kate was not crying, not panicked; she was slowly letting her hands drift over his body, and her mouth was neither hard nor frantic, only swirling over his in a way that made him wonder just who it was he’d kissed the day before, certainly not this woman whose lips poured slow sensuality into him, forcing him to echo it back, to pull her closer and allow his hands to slide over her back and finally settle on her ass.
When he finally responded to the kiss, he found that she was changing again. Something in her eyes was more intense, and she was backing him into the frame of the door. Her lips and body pulled at his, taking and begging at the same time, asking to be pursued even as she nudged her body into his and let her lips leave his to move across his beard to his earlobe. She mumbled, “That’s better, Jack.”
“What?” he said, breathless.
“I knew we could do better.” She made some sound that was a release of air and a moan all at once, and he found himself suddenly desperate to keep his hands on her. Maybe that was why it had been so confusing and defensive and crazy the day before-it was protection from this, an arousal that was fast and burning and dangerous enough to make him forget that anyone could see what they were doing, anyone stumbling through the jungle could see his hands drifting up and over her tank top to her nipple, pinching it lightly between his thumb and forefinger. When she closed her eyes and pulled his body tighter, he did it again, watching the flush on her chest and neck, dropping his mouth to her collarbone to kiss the freckled skin there. He couldn’t resist scraping lightly at her neck with his beard, and she writhed, pulling his head back forcibly, planting her mouth on his again, with a fierce kiss that might have been a message. It was. She added to it, smilingly annoyed, “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?” he mumbled, kissing her neck again, moving to rasp his beard over her the skin just below her earlobe this time. She wasn’t fast enough to catch him, and he smiled as she tried to wriggle out of his arms again. This time, rather than a warning, she pulled her hand down between them and stroked it over his crotch, smiling into his neck to feel that he was already hard. He took in a breath, the smallest of moans crossing his lips. He pulled her head back and looked into her eyes. “What are you doing?”
“If you have to ask…”
“I mean, why?”
She raised her eyebrows, quizzically amused, a look and posture from her that always made him hot. Kissing him briefly, she said, “That answer’s usually pretty obvious too.”
“Kate.”
She sighed, pulling out of him arms. “Let me tell you what you want to hear, so you won’t start thinking and decide that, once again, you want to fuck up a perfectly good thing because it doesn’t fit your notions of what you should do. I want you. You want me. I’m going down to the shower. If you want to join me, I can promise you’ll have a real good time.” She opened the door. “You can even pretend it was your idea.”
She slipped back into the hatch, and he found that he couldn’t move. It wasn’t for lack of desire or even his typical asinine worrying. It was simply that he’d never been good at fucking in a shower.
*****
Kate stripped off her clothes, hands a little shaky. She honestly had no idea if he would follow her. Any other man, yes. Sawyer, definitely. Jack…well, he was always a little slow, except-she raised her eyebrows and smiled wickedly to herself-his body perhaps was quicker to understand.
She found herself slowing down, waiting to turn on the water. If he was coming, she didn’t want to waste any hot water. She stood, pressing herself into the cold wall behind her and trying to breathe, to cool down. If he didn’t come, she would have to face him and somehow erase that episode from her memory, which wouldn’t be easy as it was something she’d already fantasized about so many times, long before he actually did work up the courage to kiss her, only to have it be just another permutation of his protective, nurturing crap. She had been annoyed at first until she realized that was the way it had to be. He felt comfortable in charge, comforting people and saving the day. He was probably not all the comfortable being attacked in broad daylight and propositioned. She hoped he was smart enough to realize sometimes what we want isn’t what’s expected and easy.
She was chuckling about the irony-wryly thinking of her ridiculous lust for an uptight doctor with a God complex-dunking her head under the water, when she turned and saw that she had a guest. Instantly, she recognized a flaw in her plan-the only one, perhaps, and not serious: she didn’t get to see him undress. But it was no matter, because he was still hard and he looked better naked than she could have guessed. Since they’d landed here, he had gotten leaner, harder, his chest and abs muscled and his thighs tight, and if he didn’t get under the damn water with her and let her touch him, she thought she might start saying very desperate things.
He was only waiting because he was looking at her intently, apparently sizing her up, too, that intense stare of his undoing her somehow. Then he was meeting her under the spray of the shower, slipping his arms back around her as though they’d never left her. It was his turn to back her into the wall, though she didn’t mind so much losing control with his body pressed into hers, their hips already sliding together, him already releasing those short, low moans that made her crazy. He kissed her hard, and she recognized that something had opened up inside him, because if he was a ball of tension and nerves now, it wasn’t something mental but something physical.
At the end of a long kiss, he pulled back from her and looked over her body again, saying, “God, you’re beautiful.” He closed his arms around her again, resting his chin on the top of her head as his hands flitted all over her body, and she closed her eyes, listening to his shallow breaths, anchoring herself in how fucking good it felt to have his weight pressing her into the wall, his skin wet and slipping against hers. Even though he was relatively still as he tried to calm himself, he couldn’t stop his hips from grinding into hers.
He pulled her chin up, and when she opened her eyes, he was staring at her intently. “I don’t know what you want, but…”
Kissing his neck, she murmured, “Always with the stupid questions, Jack…”
“Dammit, I mean…”
“What?”
He mumbled, “I’m not coordinated enough to…”
She smiled wickedly, smoothing a hand over his face. “If I had any idea you would actually wanna do that right now…”
His forehead wrinkled, and he let out a short burst of laughter. “Are you kidding me? I want to be inside you -- God, like you wouldn’t believe, but…”
She put her hand over his mouth. “Just touch me and stop thinking, Jack.”
For once since she’d known him, and it still shocked her to realize that it had been less than two months, he did exactly what she asked, and he didn’t say another word. He slipped a finger down through her curls and over her clit, and she was surprised by how quickly she was tugging at his cock, praying she could make him come before he sent her over the edge, because she was already writhing with the most artless passes of his fingers, not that he didn’t know what he was doing. He somehow knew precisely how to bring her closer and closer, fingers lightly tracing patterns over and around her clit, occasionally thrusting down and inside her. When that earned him a pronounced moan, he settled those fingers there, using his thumb to continue his teasing. She guided his other hand to one of her breasts, and he quickly took the hint, tweaking her nipple teasingly then pinching harder.
She thought, at first, that she wasn’t having spectacular luck with her hands on his cock, but as she began to lose control to the building fire in her own body, as she began to whisper groans and affirmations, she felt it in his body, that he was responding more to her reactions than to her hands. She didn’t have time to work on what she might cry out, things she might say to drive him over the edge, because she was beginning to ramble incoherently, bucking into his hand and letting loose a string of words, so many of them Jack, fuck, good, God, please, and oh. For his part, he alternated between that wolfish grin men often have when they’re successfully driving a woman insane and that helpless grunt that reveals just how close they are to losing that control.
When he found exactly the right spot, the right rhythm, to right combination of pressure and movement, she cried out so loudly and jerked his cock so relentlessly that he began his own string of words, some of them things she’d never imagined coming out of his mouth. She was starting to come down from her orgasm, now watching his face, enthralled and amazed by how his mouth fell open though no sound came out, then he gasped and came, a hot splash against her stomach, making her short strokes of his cock slippery. He continued to thrust his hips toward her hand, and his mouth searched out hers, filling it with new words and moans, his tongue probing her mouth as if he were trying to drink her in, taste her to either bring himself back to sanity or never leave behind that feeling of letting it all go.
Finally, he pulled her back under the water, rubbing the stickiness from her skin, still gazing at her body. He said, “The water’s still hot.”
“Good heating system.”
He laughed, a loose laugh like she was sure nobody saw but her. “Now, we both know that isn’t true.” Kissing her, he gave her his best serious brown-eyed gaze and said, “I can do better.”
“Me too,” she replied.
“I look forward to testing that theory.”
“One request, though.”
“Yeah?”
“Can we get out of this fucking hatch. It’s making me nuts.”
She didn’t know why that made him laugh, but she didn’t mind so much not knowing. He was adorable when he was properly relaxed and amused.
Pairing: Jack/Kate
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: PWP, spoilers for “What Kate Did” (2.9)
Summary: Does PWP need a summary? Okay, so I decided I wasn’t satisfied with…that thing that happened that I can’t mention without spoiling. Decided to go back to it as I remind myself how to write het smut.
Better
Jack had at first been happy with the hatch, in a way. It was perplexingly weird, but it provided things they needed desperately-food, medicine, laundry facilities, a shower. Sawyer would be dead without them, but Jack was beginning to feel like the hatch that was making Sawyer well was slowly killing him. The more he was down there, the more he missed the sunlight and the ocean and even the jungle. At least out there he could breathe. He felt like he would trade sweat and sunburn for feeling alive and not stuck on auto-pilot, sitting beside Sawyer’s sick bed in the dim dampness, mired in his own thoughts. Hopefully, with Sawyer nearly well, his tour of duty would soon end.
Jack lay aside the book he was reading-or, not really reading but staring at as he brooded-and put a hand to Sawyer’s forehead. He was cool, sleeping comfortably, and it was nowhere near time for his medicine, so Jack made the executive decision to head outside for a while, perhaps take a walk out to the golf course to see if anyone was playing. He nodded at Eko as he left, promising to return soon, and Eko only regarded him with that coolness he wore like a suit of armor. Jack had begun to like that coolness; it was reassuring.
Emerging from the hatch, Jack shaded his eyes with his hand, squinting into the bright light, for some reason pausing there, just outside the threshold. He heard a rustle, boots through grass, and was startled to find Kate standing in front of him, eyeing him oddly. She wore her usual uniform of tank top and jeans, and Jack couldn’t help but notice she had on no bra. That was all he noticed before her mouth opened for her to speak, only to close as she stepped into him and suddenly her lips were on his and it was like no time had passed since the last time they did that. Or that would be the case if this wasn’t different. This Kate was not crying, not panicked; she was slowly letting her hands drift over his body, and her mouth was neither hard nor frantic, only swirling over his in a way that made him wonder just who it was he’d kissed the day before, certainly not this woman whose lips poured slow sensuality into him, forcing him to echo it back, to pull her closer and allow his hands to slide over her back and finally settle on her ass.
When he finally responded to the kiss, he found that she was changing again. Something in her eyes was more intense, and she was backing him into the frame of the door. Her lips and body pulled at his, taking and begging at the same time, asking to be pursued even as she nudged her body into his and let her lips leave his to move across his beard to his earlobe. She mumbled, “That’s better, Jack.”
“What?” he said, breathless.
“I knew we could do better.” She made some sound that was a release of air and a moan all at once, and he found himself suddenly desperate to keep his hands on her. Maybe that was why it had been so confusing and defensive and crazy the day before-it was protection from this, an arousal that was fast and burning and dangerous enough to make him forget that anyone could see what they were doing, anyone stumbling through the jungle could see his hands drifting up and over her tank top to her nipple, pinching it lightly between his thumb and forefinger. When she closed her eyes and pulled his body tighter, he did it again, watching the flush on her chest and neck, dropping his mouth to her collarbone to kiss the freckled skin there. He couldn’t resist scraping lightly at her neck with his beard, and she writhed, pulling his head back forcibly, planting her mouth on his again, with a fierce kiss that might have been a message. It was. She added to it, smilingly annoyed, “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?” he mumbled, kissing her neck again, moving to rasp his beard over her the skin just below her earlobe this time. She wasn’t fast enough to catch him, and he smiled as she tried to wriggle out of his arms again. This time, rather than a warning, she pulled her hand down between them and stroked it over his crotch, smiling into his neck to feel that he was already hard. He took in a breath, the smallest of moans crossing his lips. He pulled her head back and looked into her eyes. “What are you doing?”
“If you have to ask…”
“I mean, why?”
She raised her eyebrows, quizzically amused, a look and posture from her that always made him hot. Kissing him briefly, she said, “That answer’s usually pretty obvious too.”
“Kate.”
She sighed, pulling out of him arms. “Let me tell you what you want to hear, so you won’t start thinking and decide that, once again, you want to fuck up a perfectly good thing because it doesn’t fit your notions of what you should do. I want you. You want me. I’m going down to the shower. If you want to join me, I can promise you’ll have a real good time.” She opened the door. “You can even pretend it was your idea.”
She slipped back into the hatch, and he found that he couldn’t move. It wasn’t for lack of desire or even his typical asinine worrying. It was simply that he’d never been good at fucking in a shower.
*****
Kate stripped off her clothes, hands a little shaky. She honestly had no idea if he would follow her. Any other man, yes. Sawyer, definitely. Jack…well, he was always a little slow, except-she raised her eyebrows and smiled wickedly to herself-his body perhaps was quicker to understand.
She found herself slowing down, waiting to turn on the water. If he was coming, she didn’t want to waste any hot water. She stood, pressing herself into the cold wall behind her and trying to breathe, to cool down. If he didn’t come, she would have to face him and somehow erase that episode from her memory, which wouldn’t be easy as it was something she’d already fantasized about so many times, long before he actually did work up the courage to kiss her, only to have it be just another permutation of his protective, nurturing crap. She had been annoyed at first until she realized that was the way it had to be. He felt comfortable in charge, comforting people and saving the day. He was probably not all the comfortable being attacked in broad daylight and propositioned. She hoped he was smart enough to realize sometimes what we want isn’t what’s expected and easy.
She was chuckling about the irony-wryly thinking of her ridiculous lust for an uptight doctor with a God complex-dunking her head under the water, when she turned and saw that she had a guest. Instantly, she recognized a flaw in her plan-the only one, perhaps, and not serious: she didn’t get to see him undress. But it was no matter, because he was still hard and he looked better naked than she could have guessed. Since they’d landed here, he had gotten leaner, harder, his chest and abs muscled and his thighs tight, and if he didn’t get under the damn water with her and let her touch him, she thought she might start saying very desperate things.
He was only waiting because he was looking at her intently, apparently sizing her up, too, that intense stare of his undoing her somehow. Then he was meeting her under the spray of the shower, slipping his arms back around her as though they’d never left her. It was his turn to back her into the wall, though she didn’t mind so much losing control with his body pressed into hers, their hips already sliding together, him already releasing those short, low moans that made her crazy. He kissed her hard, and she recognized that something had opened up inside him, because if he was a ball of tension and nerves now, it wasn’t something mental but something physical.
At the end of a long kiss, he pulled back from her and looked over her body again, saying, “God, you’re beautiful.” He closed his arms around her again, resting his chin on the top of her head as his hands flitted all over her body, and she closed her eyes, listening to his shallow breaths, anchoring herself in how fucking good it felt to have his weight pressing her into the wall, his skin wet and slipping against hers. Even though he was relatively still as he tried to calm himself, he couldn’t stop his hips from grinding into hers.
He pulled her chin up, and when she opened her eyes, he was staring at her intently. “I don’t know what you want, but…”
Kissing his neck, she murmured, “Always with the stupid questions, Jack…”
“Dammit, I mean…”
“What?”
He mumbled, “I’m not coordinated enough to…”
She smiled wickedly, smoothing a hand over his face. “If I had any idea you would actually wanna do that right now…”
His forehead wrinkled, and he let out a short burst of laughter. “Are you kidding me? I want to be inside you -- God, like you wouldn’t believe, but…”
She put her hand over his mouth. “Just touch me and stop thinking, Jack.”
For once since she’d known him, and it still shocked her to realize that it had been less than two months, he did exactly what she asked, and he didn’t say another word. He slipped a finger down through her curls and over her clit, and she was surprised by how quickly she was tugging at his cock, praying she could make him come before he sent her over the edge, because she was already writhing with the most artless passes of his fingers, not that he didn’t know what he was doing. He somehow knew precisely how to bring her closer and closer, fingers lightly tracing patterns over and around her clit, occasionally thrusting down and inside her. When that earned him a pronounced moan, he settled those fingers there, using his thumb to continue his teasing. She guided his other hand to one of her breasts, and he quickly took the hint, tweaking her nipple teasingly then pinching harder.
She thought, at first, that she wasn’t having spectacular luck with her hands on his cock, but as she began to lose control to the building fire in her own body, as she began to whisper groans and affirmations, she felt it in his body, that he was responding more to her reactions than to her hands. She didn’t have time to work on what she might cry out, things she might say to drive him over the edge, because she was beginning to ramble incoherently, bucking into his hand and letting loose a string of words, so many of them Jack, fuck, good, God, please, and oh. For his part, he alternated between that wolfish grin men often have when they’re successfully driving a woman insane and that helpless grunt that reveals just how close they are to losing that control.
When he found exactly the right spot, the right rhythm, to right combination of pressure and movement, she cried out so loudly and jerked his cock so relentlessly that he began his own string of words, some of them things she’d never imagined coming out of his mouth. She was starting to come down from her orgasm, now watching his face, enthralled and amazed by how his mouth fell open though no sound came out, then he gasped and came, a hot splash against her stomach, making her short strokes of his cock slippery. He continued to thrust his hips toward her hand, and his mouth searched out hers, filling it with new words and moans, his tongue probing her mouth as if he were trying to drink her in, taste her to either bring himself back to sanity or never leave behind that feeling of letting it all go.
Finally, he pulled her back under the water, rubbing the stickiness from her skin, still gazing at her body. He said, “The water’s still hot.”
“Good heating system.”
He laughed, a loose laugh like she was sure nobody saw but her. “Now, we both know that isn’t true.” Kissing her, he gave her his best serious brown-eyed gaze and said, “I can do better.”
“Me too,” she replied.
“I look forward to testing that theory.”
“One request, though.”
“Yeah?”
“Can we get out of this fucking hatch. It’s making me nuts.”
She didn’t know why that made him laugh, but she didn’t mind so much not knowing. He was adorable when he was properly relaxed and amused.