fic, Lost: Sacrifices Suck (but it could be worse) [Boone/Charlie/the smoke monster], NC17
Title: Sacrifices Suck (but it could be worse)
Rating: NC17
Warnings: tentacle sex (yes, YES, I know), utter crack, wackiness.
Pairing: Boone/Charlie/the smoke monster
Words: 1431
Summary: The only sensible answer they agreed upon was trying to stop the smoke monster from interfering; without such an ally out of the field (for not-John, of course), things would have been at least evened out; and then the problem became, how the fuck were they going to distract the smoke monster?
Spoilers: up to the end of S5. Clearly, seeing the premise, this is now absolutely AU. For once, thankfully.
Disclaimer: Lost isn't mine, duh. But I swear that THIS WOULD NOT happen on it if it was mine.
A/N: originally written for the lostsquee fic battle. The prompt was tentacle sex. BTW, it's ALL toestastegood's fault. I SWEAR IT IS. Anyway. THIS IS NOT TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY. I warned you that it's crack on a stick. I don't want anyone's sanity on my conscience. It implies that the smoke monster and the man in black are NOT the same person.
Clearly they couldn’t leave things alone.
The fucking both of them.
Sometimes Boone thinks that if there were prizes for people who didn’t learn their lesson even after death, he and Charlie would have won them all already with honors. And maybe a gold star for each of them, just for kicks and for practicing hard. Dammit, they both died sacrificing themselves for people who in one case hadn’t even known it until it was too late and hadn’t given a damn in the other; why the fuck should they give a damn now? It’s not like they even know anyway.
Because we’re two morons who can’t just leave mind their own business, Charlie had said once, and Boone is inclined to agree.
At least he’s glad that Charlie is with him. Because doing this alone? Oh Jesus Christ, doing this alone would have been… just… no. The only word he can come up with is no.
You see, of course after they died things had to go so that the island ended up in a goddamn war between that weird Jacob person/deity/whatever and that other thing (or deity, or whatever) who was currently possessing John, and Boone had kind of been very pissed when he learned that since John had died outside the island he wouldn’t have stuck in the afterlife with them. He had a couple of goddamn things to tell John, and that idiotic other deity had taken that away from him, too, and that had been the only prospect of Boone’s afterlife, so you kind of get that he hadn’t liked it one bit.
So he and Charlie had decided that no matter what, they were going to help their side, which meant the people from the flight who were almost all with Jacob, and who wouldn’t have since not-John was so creepy that he crept out ghosts too? So they had actually talked about it because you know, what could two ghosts do?
The only sensible answer they agreed upon was trying to stop the smoke monster from interfering; without such an ally out of the field (for not-John, of course), things would have been at least evened out; and then the problem became, how the fuck were they going to distract the smoke monster? It wasn’t like he could possess them; hell, they were undead, they couldn’t be possessed. It was Charlie that had come up with an explanation. Because well, he had said, the bloody thing acts randomly and on impulse and acts bollocks and just lashes at people and so considering that it had been around for a considerable amount of time, it could as well just be sex-deprived.
Sex-deprived, Boone had answered without being able to take it seriously. And Charlie had said that come on, it was obvious. Maybe it just needed to get laid. Boone knew how good things felt after a good lay, right? And Boone had said fine, and with whom do you want it to have sex, a polar bear?
Charlie had said they could as well ask it, and that was how they had both ended up pinned to a cave’s wall from the first time with smoke actually holding them there and creeping under their ghost clothes and touching them everywhere and actually fucking shaking while it did.
Problem was, apparently the smoke monster had been going without any for at least centuries, because it just hadn’t wanted to let them go and oh, wait, then it had found out the most effective way to actually, Jesus Christ, release.
And it had never let them out, after.
Boone usually closes his eyes when it happens, and thanks some nonexistent God for the fact that he’s a ghost and therefore cannot be hurt by anything that isn’t a ghost and can’t feel pleasure if it isn’t another ghost touching him and he doesn’t need to eat or drink or anything. Because see, lying on the ground in a fucking cavern in a temple underground next to your zombie best friend (because you do become friends in death if not in life, apparently) with your legs spread open and a thing made of smoke fucking you with something that looks very much like a tentacle for probably reasons of comfort (for the monster) is enough when you have to take it, but watching it? No fucking way.
He never watches. And it happens once each day.
Charlie does though. One time he actually says, as he strips down because the monster would do that anyway, that he doesn’t look at the monster or the tentacles though. He looks at Boone. And then he blushes and says, well, you look pretty bloody hot when you, uh, come. Y’know. Beats looking at that smoke Cthulhu, for fuck’s sake.
It actually does touch Boone, to a degree; to such a degree that the same night, some five minutes after it starts, he actually turns his head and opens his eyes and meets Charlie’s as they both lie naked next to each other on the floor and that solid, slick thing fucks them through and through; and well, Boone doesn’t know about himself, but Charlie looks pretty fucking hot as he comes too; with those short hair plastered on his face even if in theory they shouldn’t sweat (they do), his lips parted and his eyes wide and almost all black and just lustful as he looks at Boone, and dammit, no one has ever looked at him that way even when he was alive.
That’s sort of what settles it, for Boone. After all, the monster is still there, his two tentacles/arms plunging back and forth back and forth backandforth and they don’t need to watch it and Charlie is just looking so perfect and ready and willing and Boone is pretty sure he does, too; he figures that hey, if they’re both dead and sacrificing themselves for idiotic living people who won’t even know, they might as well make the best out of the situation, and so he grabs Charlie’s neck and brings him forward, just a bit, and kisses him. Charlie parts his lips, kissing him back like a drowning man needing air and finding it in Boone’s mouth and Boone moans into the kiss, his tongue mapping Charlie’s mouth. It’s wet and warm and notdead and it feels so good; and since it’s not like the smoke monster ever cared about getting them off, his hand reaches for Charlie’s erection but the position is too bad and so he settles for bringing Charlie even closer, turn them on their side a bit (the arm/smoke tentacle is flexible, anyway) and rubs his hard-on against Charlie’s, feeling sweat falling off his forehead, moaning when Charlie licks it off his cheek as droplets fall down and as they come more or less at the same time, feeling more alive than he has ever felt in ages.
He doesn’t even register the temple trembling and shaking as it always happens when the smoke monster usually finds, uh, well, release.
It leaves them be after easing out (and at least the tentacle never hurts while getting in and out, and Boone so does not want to know why); and as Boone brings Charlie even closer and they come to a sort of sitting position and they keep on kissing, he forgets that it’s going to be back in six hours. And also swears to himself that the second the stupid war is over, he and Charlie are going to run for a very, very far place on this island, find the smoke monster someone or something else and then proceed to do this alone. Yes. That’s indeed a plan.
He can’t know that right now the monster actually thinks that this was a ton of times better than when they just took it. It actually thinks that it’d be just great if they did it all again; after all, it can’t kiss or show affection or anything, but it is grateful to them for giving it a way out of his six-centuries-long virginity and it’ll be utterly glad to let them have whatever makes them happy.
This arrangement? It suits the smoke monster just fucking fine, and if those other two lousy minor gods want to go to war up there, they can do without him. He certainly has better things to do, and his two new friends seem to be of the same opinion. Right, he doesn’t know of Boone’s plan either, but these are all details, aren’t they just?
End.
Rating: NC17
Warnings: tentacle sex (yes, YES, I know), utter crack, wackiness.
Pairing: Boone/Charlie/the smoke monster
Words: 1431
Summary: The only sensible answer they agreed upon was trying to stop the smoke monster from interfering; without such an ally out of the field (for not-John, of course), things would have been at least evened out; and then the problem became, how the fuck were they going to distract the smoke monster?
Spoilers: up to the end of S5. Clearly, seeing the premise, this is now absolutely AU. For once, thankfully.
Disclaimer: Lost isn't mine, duh. But I swear that THIS WOULD NOT happen on it if it was mine.
A/N: originally written for the lostsquee fic battle. The prompt was tentacle sex. BTW, it's ALL toestastegood's fault. I SWEAR IT IS. Anyway. THIS IS NOT TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY. I warned you that it's crack on a stick. I don't want anyone's sanity on my conscience. It implies that the smoke monster and the man in black are NOT the same person.
Clearly they couldn’t leave things alone.
The fucking both of them.
Sometimes Boone thinks that if there were prizes for people who didn’t learn their lesson even after death, he and Charlie would have won them all already with honors. And maybe a gold star for each of them, just for kicks and for practicing hard. Dammit, they both died sacrificing themselves for people who in one case hadn’t even known it until it was too late and hadn’t given a damn in the other; why the fuck should they give a damn now? It’s not like they even know anyway.
Because we’re two morons who can’t just leave mind their own business, Charlie had said once, and Boone is inclined to agree.
At least he’s glad that Charlie is with him. Because doing this alone? Oh Jesus Christ, doing this alone would have been… just… no. The only word he can come up with is no.
You see, of course after they died things had to go so that the island ended up in a goddamn war between that weird Jacob person/deity/whatever and that other thing (or deity, or whatever) who was currently possessing John, and Boone had kind of been very pissed when he learned that since John had died outside the island he wouldn’t have stuck in the afterlife with them. He had a couple of goddamn things to tell John, and that idiotic other deity had taken that away from him, too, and that had been the only prospect of Boone’s afterlife, so you kind of get that he hadn’t liked it one bit.
So he and Charlie had decided that no matter what, they were going to help their side, which meant the people from the flight who were almost all with Jacob, and who wouldn’t have since not-John was so creepy that he crept out ghosts too? So they had actually talked about it because you know, what could two ghosts do?
The only sensible answer they agreed upon was trying to stop the smoke monster from interfering; without such an ally out of the field (for not-John, of course), things would have been at least evened out; and then the problem became, how the fuck were they going to distract the smoke monster? It wasn’t like he could possess them; hell, they were undead, they couldn’t be possessed. It was Charlie that had come up with an explanation. Because well, he had said, the bloody thing acts randomly and on impulse and acts bollocks and just lashes at people and so considering that it had been around for a considerable amount of time, it could as well just be sex-deprived.
Sex-deprived, Boone had answered without being able to take it seriously. And Charlie had said that come on, it was obvious. Maybe it just needed to get laid. Boone knew how good things felt after a good lay, right? And Boone had said fine, and with whom do you want it to have sex, a polar bear?
Charlie had said they could as well ask it, and that was how they had both ended up pinned to a cave’s wall from the first time with smoke actually holding them there and creeping under their ghost clothes and touching them everywhere and actually fucking shaking while it did.
Problem was, apparently the smoke monster had been going without any for at least centuries, because it just hadn’t wanted to let them go and oh, wait, then it had found out the most effective way to actually, Jesus Christ, release.
And it had never let them out, after.
Boone usually closes his eyes when it happens, and thanks some nonexistent God for the fact that he’s a ghost and therefore cannot be hurt by anything that isn’t a ghost and can’t feel pleasure if it isn’t another ghost touching him and he doesn’t need to eat or drink or anything. Because see, lying on the ground in a fucking cavern in a temple underground next to your zombie best friend (because you do become friends in death if not in life, apparently) with your legs spread open and a thing made of smoke fucking you with something that looks very much like a tentacle for probably reasons of comfort (for the monster) is enough when you have to take it, but watching it? No fucking way.
He never watches. And it happens once each day.
Charlie does though. One time he actually says, as he strips down because the monster would do that anyway, that he doesn’t look at the monster or the tentacles though. He looks at Boone. And then he blushes and says, well, you look pretty bloody hot when you, uh, come. Y’know. Beats looking at that smoke Cthulhu, for fuck’s sake.
It actually does touch Boone, to a degree; to such a degree that the same night, some five minutes after it starts, he actually turns his head and opens his eyes and meets Charlie’s as they both lie naked next to each other on the floor and that solid, slick thing fucks them through and through; and well, Boone doesn’t know about himself, but Charlie looks pretty fucking hot as he comes too; with those short hair plastered on his face even if in theory they shouldn’t sweat (they do), his lips parted and his eyes wide and almost all black and just lustful as he looks at Boone, and dammit, no one has ever looked at him that way even when he was alive.
That’s sort of what settles it, for Boone. After all, the monster is still there, his two tentacles/arms plunging back and forth back and forth backandforth and they don’t need to watch it and Charlie is just looking so perfect and ready and willing and Boone is pretty sure he does, too; he figures that hey, if they’re both dead and sacrificing themselves for idiotic living people who won’t even know, they might as well make the best out of the situation, and so he grabs Charlie’s neck and brings him forward, just a bit, and kisses him. Charlie parts his lips, kissing him back like a drowning man needing air and finding it in Boone’s mouth and Boone moans into the kiss, his tongue mapping Charlie’s mouth. It’s wet and warm and notdead and it feels so good; and since it’s not like the smoke monster ever cared about getting them off, his hand reaches for Charlie’s erection but the position is too bad and so he settles for bringing Charlie even closer, turn them on their side a bit (the arm/smoke tentacle is flexible, anyway) and rubs his hard-on against Charlie’s, feeling sweat falling off his forehead, moaning when Charlie licks it off his cheek as droplets fall down and as they come more or less at the same time, feeling more alive than he has ever felt in ages.
He doesn’t even register the temple trembling and shaking as it always happens when the smoke monster usually finds, uh, well, release.
It leaves them be after easing out (and at least the tentacle never hurts while getting in and out, and Boone so does not want to know why); and as Boone brings Charlie even closer and they come to a sort of sitting position and they keep on kissing, he forgets that it’s going to be back in six hours. And also swears to himself that the second the stupid war is over, he and Charlie are going to run for a very, very far place on this island, find the smoke monster someone or something else and then proceed to do this alone. Yes. That’s indeed a plan.
He can’t know that right now the monster actually thinks that this was a ton of times better than when they just took it. It actually thinks that it’d be just great if they did it all again; after all, it can’t kiss or show affection or anything, but it is grateful to them for giving it a way out of his six-centuries-long virginity and it’ll be utterly glad to let them have whatever makes them happy.
This arrangement? It suits the smoke monster just fucking fine, and if those other two lousy minor gods want to go to war up there, they can do without him. He certainly has better things to do, and his two new friends seem to be of the same opinion. Right, he doesn’t know of Boone’s plan either, but these are all details, aren’t they just?
End.