Payback
Title: Payback
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None - AU
Disclaimer: Not mine!
A/N: So this is a scene from A Pain That I'm Used To that I mentioned in passing, then I decided yesterday I wanted to write on a whim. You don't really need to know that series to read this, even though it's rooted in that story. It's totally pure porn.
Sawyer shoves Jack against the back door with a violent thud, his lean body hitting hard. Jack grunts, then groans, when Sawyer rubs up against him, rigid and ready through two rough layers of denim. He smiles knowingly against Jack’s mouth as Jack fumbles for the keys.
“Fuck, Sawyer…” Jack tears himself away from Sawyer’s desperate kiss and turns to face the door. Sawyer’s fingers don’t miss a beat, reconnecting and sliding over skin, dipping and sliding over the expanse no longer covered by Jack’s half-unbuttoned purple dress shirt that lays crookedly mostly off his shoulder. One hand on his chest, one underneath the fabric, flat and demanding against his stomach, Sawyer rubs and pulls while he attacks Jack’s neck with his mouth, sloppy and eager. Jack’s not even remotely close to lining the key up with the lock.
Sawyer grins, nuzzling his face against the back of Jack’s head, soft hair rubbing his cheek. His hands find Jack’s hips and hold him still as he grinds forcefully, his cock making all the suggestions for him as he pushes his lower body toward Jack’s like he’s going to fuck him right there on their back stoop.
Jack tries to concentrate on unlocking the door and getting inside the house; it’s all he can think about and even that is getting to be a strain. He’s dizzy and seeing double and holding the key so tightly he’s sure it will leave an imprint between his fingers, but his hands are so unsteady and sweaty that he’s sure he’ll drop it. He’s wound up almost to the point of losing his mind; Sawyer’s lips, his hands, his body, they’re driving him insane.
Sawyer’s been restless and impatient all night long, whispering unspeakably dirty suggestions against his skin before the opening act even went onstage. In the darkness of the concert hall, Sawyer had groped and pulled and touched him, rocking against him in time with the thrumming beat of the music. Jack felt flushed and warm and embarrassed but Sawyer didn’t heed his pleas to stop, and it quickly became too much, felt too good, for Jack to fight against it. He doesn’t know how someone didn’t report them, get them thrown out, because Sawyer had practically done him right there in the middle of the crowd. Jack’s ears are still ringing now, his head buzzing, and he isn’t even sure if it’s because of the noise or because of Sawyer.
“I want you back in my mouth,” Sawyer growls and reaches for his zipper, trying to pull him back out of his jeans. Jack gasps, the sound strangled, and drops the keys to the cement steps, the weighted keychain hitting the ground as fast as Jack wishes he could slam Sawyer down, fuck him right now.
Sawyer slides his hand down the front of Jack’s pants, cupping Jack’s throbbing hard-on through the thin material of his boxer-briefs. The fabric is already damp, Jack’s cock jutting forward, straining toward Sawyer’s palm. Sawyer closes his eyes and breathes in Jack’s scent, shuddering with want. He gets his fingers inside the gap in the front of Jack’s underwear and pulls Jack’s length out, wraps his hand around it.
Jack slams his hand outward against the door and it stays there, his arm strained taut as he holds himself up and steady.
Sawyer’s lips part and he flicks his tongue out to wet them, the taste of Jack still lingering in his mouth. The entire way home he’d been face down across the cab of the car, alternately stroking and sucking on Jack’s beautiful cock. It was torture, he knew - for both him and Jack - but the aching, throbbing pain of pleasure too long denied was more than worth it. He wanted to take Jack to the edge over and over and then deny him that final shove, keep him teetering there on the brink for as long as he could.
Jack had done it to him before, eagerly blew him in the front seat on a short drive home before palming himself and stroking, pulling, touching - Sawyer imagines it now, the way he looked that night in the passenger seat, legs spread and dick in hand, desperate and shamelessly slutty in the way that Jack could ironically only be while in a completely monogamous, loving relationship. It’s the implicit trust that allows Jack’s lust to run rampant, like the way Jack first began to divulge his kinks and fantasies after he had picked up Jack’s dry cleaning one afternoon without being asked.
If Sawyer knew that picking up laundry or remembering Jack’s favorite ice cream at the store would get Jack to admit that he sometimes wouldn’t mind being tied up in bed, he would’ve be on a first name basis with the dry cleaner and there would’ve been gallons of ice cream in the freezer from the get-go.
Now he tries to both shove Jack’s jeans down over his hips while sucking at the juncture of his neck and collarbone. Jack swears and pushes Sawyer back, bending down quickly and grabbing the keys from the ground; his knuckles scrape against the cement and then against the wood and metal of the door as he scrambles to get inside, but he barely notices. He grabs Sawyer by the front of his black t-shirt and pulls him inside, slamming the door behind them.
“You fucking tease,” Jack bites out roughly, pushing Sawyer’s back to the door and clenching the fabric of his tee tightly in his fists. Sawyer’s arousal jolts sharply, a sudden spike of desire that nearly makes him come, as Jack’s dark, fiery eyes bore into his.
“What goes around comes around, Doc,” Sawyer taunts, loving the way that Jack looks, angry and aroused, nearly crazy with frustration. He reaches for him but Jack grabs his hands and pins them back at his sides, wrists against the cold hard wood of the door. Sawyer smiles and Jack crushes his mouth against his, erasing his smug grin, Jack’s tongue urgent and demanding and surging deep.
“All night long, Sawyer…” Jack growls, his voice raspy and so delicious that Sawyer wants to lick his throat and his lips, get close to tasting it.
“We’re home now, ain’t we?” Sawyer points out with a gleeful smirk, thoroughly enjoying the results of his night’s work. He has Jack wound up tight and now it’s all springing loose, spinning out of control. He loves Jack when he’s out of control and desperately wanting, it’s one of the sexiest things he’s ever seen. Truth be told, he only ever behaves like a bad, bad boy these days because he so thoroughly enjoys the punishment he receives.
Jack grabs him by the belt loops and moves with him toward the stairs, each of them grasping at one another to keep in contact, wayward kisses and clumsy touches. They collide with the entryway to the stairs, door jamb digging painfully into Sawyer’s hip; he grunts against Jack’s lips and Jack spins him, shoves him down.
Sawyer doesn’t really realize what’s happening until his jeans are open and Jack’s perfect mouth is wrapped around his cock, his stubbled cheeks hollowed as he sucks and swallows, takes in his whole length like it’s nothing at all. Sawyer’s legs instinctually spread, straining when he realizes his jeans are trapped down around his thighs, keeping him from opening up to Jack. He fumbles, trying to push them further to free his movement, his hips thrusting forward and sliding himself so deep that his head brushes the back of Jack’s throat.
“Oh fuck!” Sawyer cries out; his hand goes to the back of Jack’s head, guiding him, needing to feel him, wanting him to do that again. He struggles to keep his eyes open and watch Jack work his lips up and down, slick and wet and warm.
He’s gorgeous, his face flushed and his dark lashes fluttering as he groans enthusiastically, humming in pleasure like this is the only thing he’s ever needed. Sawyer throws his head back, his skull connecting hard with the wooden step underneath him. His t-shirt is riding up and the stairs are digging into the bare skin of his back as his body shifts and rocks against the hard angle of the staircase. One hand still rubbing over Jack’s short, soft hair, the other grapples for purchase on the stair rail, trying to keep himself from sliding. He whispers Jack’s name, trying to spread his legs wider, push harder, feel more, get more.
Jack looks up at Sawyer, his tight body sprawled out before him and completely under his control. Sawyer's t-shirt is bunched up across his smooth chest; his muscled stomach, tanned and dripping with sweat, is pulled taut and quickly rises and falls in pace with Sawyer’s fast breathing. His eyes are glassy, pupils blown wide and black, his blonde hair darkened damp from their exertions, strands sticking to his forehead and cheeks. He looks thoroughly undone, on the verge of begging for release. Jack meets his gaze and Sawyer moans licentiously, his voice loaded with sex.
Sawyer lets his eyes fall closed when the sensations overwhelm him, Jack everywhere around him all at once. His hands are circling around him, stroking and massaging his balls, his tongue occasionally slipping down to match action. Then Jack’s fingers are delving into him, moving inside, stretching and pushing while Jack’s tongue and teeth and lips move over his sensitive flesh, lapping and licking at the velvet skin, at the moisture leaking from his tip.
It’s then when Jack finds perfection, simply perfection, and Sawyer’s whole world splits open. He’s falling, falling into nothing, the ground dropping out from under him as his hips arch and his body seizes. Everything’s tight and hot and he can’t take it, he’s crying out, almost crying, as he loses everything he has to Jack’s willing mouth.
When Sawyer comes back to his senses, Jack already has him turned over and Sawyer finds he already has himself braced against the stairs, like his body had been acting on its own while his mind went elsewhere. Jack’s cock drips hot over his inner thighs, against his ass. His body is still shuddering and shaking from the force of his own orgasm but if he could find his voice, he’d beg for it, beg for Jack to push into him and fill him and give him everything.
Jack doesn’t hesitate before taking himself by the base with one hand, trying to hold on long enough to at least get inside Sawyer before exploding. He slides himself inbetween, his head pushing at Sawyer’s entrance, and then with one long satisfied groan thrusts all the way in, burying himself deep in a smooth motion.
He waits only a second - catches a breath, tries to focus, but god Sawyer’s so tight and hot and perfect - and then draws out, slams back in, his balls slapping against the back of Sawyer’s thighs. Sawyer rests his forehead against his forearm, against the stairs, as Jack sets a rhythm, sharp and fast and barreling forward to conclusion.
Sawyer can’t concentrate, the pleasure all too much. He has nothing left to give but his body keeps trying, his cock twitching and thrusting but completely drained. He can feel every last movement Jack makes, the sweet slide of his thick, long cock in and out of his body. It’s so damn good, he wishes he could come again, that he could pulse out and all over the stairs as Jack spills inside of him so Jack could know how amazing this feels for him too.
Jack slides one hand over Sawyer’s back, tracing the ridge of his spine, then places his palm flat there, feeling the motion of Sawyer’s body rocking from the force of his thrusts. He looks down to where his hard length disappears inside Sawyer’s body, watching it work in and out, and Jack loses the last semblance of restraint he has.
Jack thrusts so hard that Sawyer cries out and then Jack’s coming, blissfully everything and anything and nothing all at once. It’s all slick and warm and Sawyer is tight, holding him in as he pulses.
Sawyer’s whimper echoes Jack's own as he pulls out, pausing a moment to let himself brush against Sawyer’s body one last time, and then sinks to the stairs beside Sawyer. Sawyer collapses too, laying on his stomach and pressing his heated cheek against the cool wood. They both breathe heavily, exhausted.
Jack chuckles softly and Sawyer uses every last ounce of energy he has to awkwardly turn over in the small cramped space. Now on his back, his body an inch from being on Jack’s, Sawyer looks at him, questioning his laughter.
Then he looks at the both of their bodies and he knows what has earned Jack’s smile. Two grown men, lying in crumpled heaps on a staircase, their jeans shoved down around their knees like they’d pantsed each other and tripped. Sawyer’s tee is still caught underneath his arms and Jack’s shirt is unbuttoned and hanging askew, half off his body on his left side, his tattoos showing. And Sawyer imagines that if he looks anything like Jack does, he must look like he’s just run a marathon, sweaty and tired and dazed.
Sitting up, Sawyer adjusts his shirt back down around his waist and then reaches for Jack, stroking his cock softly before helping Jack to straighten his clothes.
He pulls up his own jeans halfway before standing up, situating them around his waist. Jack looks up at him from his position sitting almost underneath him, and Sawyer grins wickedly. He takes his half hard cock in hand and pumps himself with his fist.
“I promise ya, soon as I can, Doc, I’m fuckin’ you just as hard and twice as long.” He winks and tucks himself back into his jeans, zipping up. Jack giggles in the way that only he can and get away with it. Sawyer nearly bursts out laughing himself when Jack has the audacity to blush, ducking his head as he smiles.
Only Jack could be as impatient and horny to take him on the stairs and then blush over it.
“C’mon,” Sawyer says, offering Jack his hand and helping him up. He gestures for Jack to lead the way up the stairs to their bedroom, slapping him on the ass as he does so. “I think I might be ready to make good on that promise sooner than ya think.”