Not Like It Used To Be - Lost - Sawyer/Sayid
Title: Not Like It Used To Be
Pairing: Sawyer/Sayid
Word Count: 398
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for the porn battle.
Summary: He makes it hurt - just 'cause he can, just 'cause he should.
He makes it hurt - just 'cause he can, just 'cause he should. They slam into walls and Sawyer's pretty damn sure that they're dismantling furniture. Anything that's in their burning path of destruction is a target. Sayid's skin tastes like fire - smoke and salt and death - but he can't get enough. Addicted. Needy.
Gives up on making it to the bed before they even clear the kitchen. Slams him down over the counter instead, practically at a right-angle: and Sayid lets him. Must be more shaken by Henry Gale through in his prison than Sawyer had thought.
(It's Shannon, you idiot, Shannon, he thinks - but he ignores the blunt truth.)
His nails rake over Sayid's skin, leaving pink little lines behind. "Gonna fuck you so hard, you son of a bitch," Sawyer growls. "Gonna make you scream." Their prisoner is one room along and Sawyer's got a bullet wound they should be more careful with. He doesn't give a damn.
Sayid looks to the side, his cheek resting against the cold surface. "Then I suggest you get on with it," he says, as in-control as ever. That's maybe even a smirk on his damn lips. "I won't wait forever."
"You'll wait as long as I tell you to," Sawyer grumbles - but he's rushing now, yanking Sayid's trousers down then his own, not even past their knees. Sayid's hands grip the side of the counter: it's been a good long while since they last did this but Sawyer remembers it being different then. He remembers being off balance and out of depth, remembers Sayid's knowing smile as he effortlessly took control and took him apart, remembers surrendering under the onslaught of Sayid's skills but not without a fight. This is different, ain't it, Sayid leaning before him - so blindly accepting. Sawyer presses a thumb into the tight heat of his ass and wonders if Sayid's ever let anyone else do this to him before.
(He's grieving, asshole. Back off.)
Fucks him hard because it feels like that's what Sayid wants right now. Pain. Giving or receiving, it doesn't seem to matter. "Does that hurt?" he asks, hand clenching on Sayid's dusky hip.
Sayid's eyes are closed and his hair falls in tangled corkscrews. "Of course it hurts," he answers without looking back as Sawyer palms his dick, fast and chopping.
(Yeah, Sawyer thinks, that just about says it all.)
Pairing: Sawyer/Sayid
Word Count: 398
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for the porn battle.
Summary: He makes it hurt - just 'cause he can, just 'cause he should.
He makes it hurt - just 'cause he can, just 'cause he should. They slam into walls and Sawyer's pretty damn sure that they're dismantling furniture. Anything that's in their burning path of destruction is a target. Sayid's skin tastes like fire - smoke and salt and death - but he can't get enough. Addicted. Needy.
Gives up on making it to the bed before they even clear the kitchen. Slams him down over the counter instead, practically at a right-angle: and Sayid lets him. Must be more shaken by Henry Gale through in his prison than Sawyer had thought.
(It's Shannon, you idiot, Shannon, he thinks - but he ignores the blunt truth.)
His nails rake over Sayid's skin, leaving pink little lines behind. "Gonna fuck you so hard, you son of a bitch," Sawyer growls. "Gonna make you scream." Their prisoner is one room along and Sawyer's got a bullet wound they should be more careful with. He doesn't give a damn.
Sayid looks to the side, his cheek resting against the cold surface. "Then I suggest you get on with it," he says, as in-control as ever. That's maybe even a smirk on his damn lips. "I won't wait forever."
"You'll wait as long as I tell you to," Sawyer grumbles - but he's rushing now, yanking Sayid's trousers down then his own, not even past their knees. Sayid's hands grip the side of the counter: it's been a good long while since they last did this but Sawyer remembers it being different then. He remembers being off balance and out of depth, remembers Sayid's knowing smile as he effortlessly took control and took him apart, remembers surrendering under the onslaught of Sayid's skills but not without a fight. This is different, ain't it, Sayid leaning before him - so blindly accepting. Sawyer presses a thumb into the tight heat of his ass and wonders if Sayid's ever let anyone else do this to him before.
(He's grieving, asshole. Back off.)
Fucks him hard because it feels like that's what Sayid wants right now. Pain. Giving or receiving, it doesn't seem to matter. "Does that hurt?" he asks, hand clenching on Sayid's dusky hip.
Sayid's eyes are closed and his hair falls in tangled corkscrews. "Of course it hurts," he answers without looking back as Sawyer palms his dick, fast and chopping.
(Yeah, Sawyer thinks, that just about says it all.)