Fic: When there's nothin' to do in the hatch...
Title: When there's nothin' to do in the hatch...
Author: ruffianblitz<-- me, Rowan
Word Count: 1632
Rating: ...PG-15 I guess? For vagueness?
Notes: For Cristy, who's the best person to have as a roleplaying buddy/somebody to talk to ever. I'm not the greatest of friends she's ever had, but I hope this might make up a tiny bit for my failings. xD Love you, love you. <3
"So, doc. I hear you're gettin' a bit uppity nowadays."
Jack turned from cutting up melon slices to see Sawyer leaning against one of the cold metal pillars in the hatch. The other man had a rifle slung over one shoulder by its strap, and a rather alarming smirk on his face. Kind of like the kind Sawyer had when Jack and Sayid had him tied up and tortured and all he wanted was a kiss. But this time, Sawyer wasn't tied and somehow, that made Jack a bit uneasy. As he had seen with that brilliant -it was fuckin’ brilliant no one can deny that- move with stealing the guns, Sawyer was practically capable of anything and that's what was so disarming. With Charlie you could tell that his motivations for doing things were mainly himself and Claire and the baby, and with Michael its so obviously Walt Walt Walt Walt.
“I hear yer givin’ Locke hell, and him giving it right back to you on one of these fancy plates y’got.”
Yeah, with this line of questioning Jack wasn’t sure what Sawyer was setting him up for. It could either be a royal chew-out, southern style, or a humiliating march along the beach naked, or a possible gunshot wound to his leg, arm, foot, or-
“So I got to figurin’, we can’t have two people in charge fighting with one another. It’d be like the Cold War, all over ‘gain. Though I’d call it the Doc-Locke War, catchier, y’know. And since I am the island’s main arms dealer type of guy, I figured that I should get my hands dirty a little, separate you two until someone comes out on top. Y’know, all that government type politics you doctors and…what is it that Locke does? Makes boxes? Yeah, you doctors and box-makers fight over.”
Or, now that apparently Sawyer has spouted into a political metaphor, somehow, and wishing to make a big deal over the recent added tension it could be that-
“And so I decided to be thorough, y’know? Make sure I had all my bases covered, so I got to thinkin’ on why yous and Locke are fightin’. Perhaps you’re still upset over him killing Boone, but then I thought- that wouldn’t be fair. Ana Lucia shot Shannon outright and yet here you are, fixin’ to raise an army with her. So then, maybe Locke’s mad at you for not believin’ his ‘We-must-listen-to-the-Hatch’ mumbo jumbo. And that could be it, except he seems darn happy enough doing it himself. Like it’s an addictin’ video game or something.”
Jack continued to stand, feeling somewhat like he did as a freshman in college and had this one professor that rambled on and on and on about nothing in particular and then whipped out a surprise quiz on whatever the hell he had just said. He felt like he should be paying attention, but was too concerned at the thought of a test at the end of it to worry too much over the stuff in between.
“So really, I don’t know why you two are fightin’, all I know is that y’are. And so then I got to thinkin’ on how I should remedy this here situation that seems to have reared its ugly head, as you smart folk say.”
Now Sawyer was just being plain ornery, Jack surmised, pretending to be the ignorant and very un-innocent but acting it anyway, poor town redneck who’s just trying to do the right thing.
“And I don’t know about you, doc, but this whole political mess stuff goes right over my head, almost didn’t pass government, y’know, but anyway. In my mind there’s only two things we can do. A duel, or fuck. Now I don’t know about you, but last time I put a weapon in Locke’s hands it ended up in the headrest of the seat next t’mine. And I don’t feel like dyin’, or having our resident doc keel over with a knife in his hide. So that leaves us with one option doc, and that’s-”
By now, Sawyer had moved off the pillar and was slowly stalking towards Jack, with his arms crossed smugly over his chest and a look in his eyes that said that Jack wasn’t going to leave this hatch without some sort of personal injury.
“to fuck. Now I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to get anywhere near Locke without all my clothes, shirt, pants, socks, shoes, belt, chastity belt, whatever. So that leaves us at, what’s yer word for it? At odds? Whatever, doc. So what d’you say?”
What does he say? He says: “What the fuck.” Still staring at Sawyer and trying to imagine him having two heads, or tentacles for arms because right now, that would seem more normal than this. Sawyer sneaking up on him and then blowing him out of the water with a proposition like that. And all because of a fight he’s not even involved in! “What’s between me and Locke is no business of yours, Sawyer.” Jack turned his back on Sawyer, a little bit of a bad idea in hindsight, and picked up the bowl of melon to take it into the other room.
A long, firm body pressed tight against his, pushing forward until Jack’s hips came to a stop against the counter. Hands skimmed up his sides and around to his front, laying warm and heavy on his chest. “Well yeah it ain’t, if you two are secretly screwing around, I sure as hell don’t wanna hear the details of that one. Have nightmares for weeks…then again, if you did, I could turn it around and tell Charlie. Would get that fuckin’ headcase off my back about not being the only outlaw in town. Jesus H. Christ.”
Jack had been about to say something in return, when one of those hands snaked up underneath his shirt and trailed a finger directly up the middle of his chest and moved to the left to smooth over the ridge of his collarbone. The other quickly joined it, drifting in small circles while pushing and cajoling the hem of Jack’s shirt ever upwards until it was bunched around his arms. Jack couldn’t breathe, his chest felt heavy and tight while those broad hands caressed and explored every spare inch of his torso, feeling the rough calluses catch on his skin in a way that made small sparks zip straight between his legs. Apparently Sawyer felt it too, because dry lips suddenly pressed themselves against the back of Jack’s neck, curving up in what could only be Sawyer’s signature smirk.
“Like that, d’you Doc?” Warm pressure curled around Jack’s, surprisingly because hell if Jack had noticed when this happened, erections and squeezed, heat sinking through the layer of denim between him and Sawyer’s hand. “Knew you were a bottom moment I set eyes on ya, so needy for control that when it comes down to the nitty gritty the least thing you want is control. You want someone to control you.” Jack closed his eyes and leaned his head back against Sawyer’s shoulder, jaw muscles strained as he tried not to groan at the truth of Sawyer’s words. Not that he knew they were true, but boy, you try to deny the hot hot heat pulsing in every nerve in your body that suddenly spikes to going at eight hundred and twenty-three miles an hour at those words? Yeah, that’s what Jack thought.
But he wasn’t left thinking for too much longer, because the hiss and jingle of his belt sent Jack’s brain spiraling back into adolescent years where that sound automatically meant you won. For the night, for the next ten minutes, whatever. You fuckin’ won the world man. And then his brain spiraled. Period.
You could blame it on the fact that ever since the plane took off from Australia Jack hadn’t found the time to indulge himself. Or think about indulging himself rather because everything ranging from wild polar bears to a a pirate ship to bossy, mysterious other people who had the Royal Straight Flush in what happened to you on the island tended to occupy Jack’s mind more than ‘I-need-to-get-laid-now’. Which was apparently not in Sawyer’s case, because then in a dizzying complicated move, Jack found himself pressed up flat to a cool section of the hatch’s walls. A hot mouth was attached to his neck, sucking hard enough for even Jack to feel the blood vessels pop beneath the skin, and a pair of warm hands were shoved down into his pants that were by degrees slowly sliding down Jack’s legs and pooling around his ankles.
But really, you couldn’t blame Jack for coming with his fingers entangled in Sawyer’s blonde hairs and his head thrown back against the wall with a solid thump with Sawyer’s pointy little canine teeth scraping over his pulse points and his hand squeezing around Jack’s cock nice and tight with the thumb smoothing over the head. You just couldn’t, because that wouldn’t be fair. You try minding your business and then holding out when Sawyer basically propositions you at gunpoint and then sticks his warm, broad hands down your pants. Yeah, it’s hard, especially after however long its been without any sort of deviation from sleeping, eating, watching the hatch, being suspicious of Locke, keeping other people alive and keeping himself alive.
“Damm, Doc. Maybe next time you’ll wait for me before you come all over the place.”
Pause.
“Or maybe next time I can tie you up.”
Pause.
“…Or maybe next time I’ll handcuff you and blindfold you out in the middle of the jungle.”
Pause. Then a smirk and a laugh.
“There we go, nice t’meet you again, little Doc.”
Author: ruffianblitz<-- me, Rowan
Word Count: 1632
Rating: ...PG-15 I guess? For vagueness?
Notes: For Cristy, who's the best person to have as a roleplaying buddy/somebody to talk to ever. I'm not the greatest of friends she's ever had, but I hope this might make up a tiny bit for my failings. xD Love you, love you. <3
"So, doc. I hear you're gettin' a bit uppity nowadays."
Jack turned from cutting up melon slices to see Sawyer leaning against one of the cold metal pillars in the hatch. The other man had a rifle slung over one shoulder by its strap, and a rather alarming smirk on his face. Kind of like the kind Sawyer had when Jack and Sayid had him tied up and tortured and all he wanted was a kiss. But this time, Sawyer wasn't tied and somehow, that made Jack a bit uneasy. As he had seen with that brilliant -it was fuckin’ brilliant no one can deny that- move with stealing the guns, Sawyer was practically capable of anything and that's what was so disarming. With Charlie you could tell that his motivations for doing things were mainly himself and Claire and the baby, and with Michael its so obviously Walt Walt Walt Walt.
“I hear yer givin’ Locke hell, and him giving it right back to you on one of these fancy plates y’got.”
Yeah, with this line of questioning Jack wasn’t sure what Sawyer was setting him up for. It could either be a royal chew-out, southern style, or a humiliating march along the beach naked, or a possible gunshot wound to his leg, arm, foot, or-
“So I got to figurin’, we can’t have two people in charge fighting with one another. It’d be like the Cold War, all over ‘gain. Though I’d call it the Doc-Locke War, catchier, y’know. And since I am the island’s main arms dealer type of guy, I figured that I should get my hands dirty a little, separate you two until someone comes out on top. Y’know, all that government type politics you doctors and…what is it that Locke does? Makes boxes? Yeah, you doctors and box-makers fight over.”
Or, now that apparently Sawyer has spouted into a political metaphor, somehow, and wishing to make a big deal over the recent added tension it could be that-
“And so I decided to be thorough, y’know? Make sure I had all my bases covered, so I got to thinkin’ on why yous and Locke are fightin’. Perhaps you’re still upset over him killing Boone, but then I thought- that wouldn’t be fair. Ana Lucia shot Shannon outright and yet here you are, fixin’ to raise an army with her. So then, maybe Locke’s mad at you for not believin’ his ‘We-must-listen-to-the-Hatch’ mumbo jumbo. And that could be it, except he seems darn happy enough doing it himself. Like it’s an addictin’ video game or something.”
Jack continued to stand, feeling somewhat like he did as a freshman in college and had this one professor that rambled on and on and on about nothing in particular and then whipped out a surprise quiz on whatever the hell he had just said. He felt like he should be paying attention, but was too concerned at the thought of a test at the end of it to worry too much over the stuff in between.
“So really, I don’t know why you two are fightin’, all I know is that y’are. And so then I got to thinkin’ on how I should remedy this here situation that seems to have reared its ugly head, as you smart folk say.”
Now Sawyer was just being plain ornery, Jack surmised, pretending to be the ignorant and very un-innocent but acting it anyway, poor town redneck who’s just trying to do the right thing.
“And I don’t know about you, doc, but this whole political mess stuff goes right over my head, almost didn’t pass government, y’know, but anyway. In my mind there’s only two things we can do. A duel, or fuck. Now I don’t know about you, but last time I put a weapon in Locke’s hands it ended up in the headrest of the seat next t’mine. And I don’t feel like dyin’, or having our resident doc keel over with a knife in his hide. So that leaves us with one option doc, and that’s-”
By now, Sawyer had moved off the pillar and was slowly stalking towards Jack, with his arms crossed smugly over his chest and a look in his eyes that said that Jack wasn’t going to leave this hatch without some sort of personal injury.
“to fuck. Now I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to get anywhere near Locke without all my clothes, shirt, pants, socks, shoes, belt, chastity belt, whatever. So that leaves us at, what’s yer word for it? At odds? Whatever, doc. So what d’you say?”
What does he say? He says: “What the fuck.” Still staring at Sawyer and trying to imagine him having two heads, or tentacles for arms because right now, that would seem more normal than this. Sawyer sneaking up on him and then blowing him out of the water with a proposition like that. And all because of a fight he’s not even involved in! “What’s between me and Locke is no business of yours, Sawyer.” Jack turned his back on Sawyer, a little bit of a bad idea in hindsight, and picked up the bowl of melon to take it into the other room.
A long, firm body pressed tight against his, pushing forward until Jack’s hips came to a stop against the counter. Hands skimmed up his sides and around to his front, laying warm and heavy on his chest. “Well yeah it ain’t, if you two are secretly screwing around, I sure as hell don’t wanna hear the details of that one. Have nightmares for weeks…then again, if you did, I could turn it around and tell Charlie. Would get that fuckin’ headcase off my back about not being the only outlaw in town. Jesus H. Christ.”
Jack had been about to say something in return, when one of those hands snaked up underneath his shirt and trailed a finger directly up the middle of his chest and moved to the left to smooth over the ridge of his collarbone. The other quickly joined it, drifting in small circles while pushing and cajoling the hem of Jack’s shirt ever upwards until it was bunched around his arms. Jack couldn’t breathe, his chest felt heavy and tight while those broad hands caressed and explored every spare inch of his torso, feeling the rough calluses catch on his skin in a way that made small sparks zip straight between his legs. Apparently Sawyer felt it too, because dry lips suddenly pressed themselves against the back of Jack’s neck, curving up in what could only be Sawyer’s signature smirk.
“Like that, d’you Doc?” Warm pressure curled around Jack’s, surprisingly because hell if Jack had noticed when this happened, erections and squeezed, heat sinking through the layer of denim between him and Sawyer’s hand. “Knew you were a bottom moment I set eyes on ya, so needy for control that when it comes down to the nitty gritty the least thing you want is control. You want someone to control you.” Jack closed his eyes and leaned his head back against Sawyer’s shoulder, jaw muscles strained as he tried not to groan at the truth of Sawyer’s words. Not that he knew they were true, but boy, you try to deny the hot hot heat pulsing in every nerve in your body that suddenly spikes to going at eight hundred and twenty-three miles an hour at those words? Yeah, that’s what Jack thought.
But he wasn’t left thinking for too much longer, because the hiss and jingle of his belt sent Jack’s brain spiraling back into adolescent years where that sound automatically meant you won. For the night, for the next ten minutes, whatever. You fuckin’ won the world man. And then his brain spiraled. Period.
You could blame it on the fact that ever since the plane took off from Australia Jack hadn’t found the time to indulge himself. Or think about indulging himself rather because everything ranging from wild polar bears to a a pirate ship to bossy, mysterious other people who had the Royal Straight Flush in what happened to you on the island tended to occupy Jack’s mind more than ‘I-need-to-get-laid-now’. Which was apparently not in Sawyer’s case, because then in a dizzying complicated move, Jack found himself pressed up flat to a cool section of the hatch’s walls. A hot mouth was attached to his neck, sucking hard enough for even Jack to feel the blood vessels pop beneath the skin, and a pair of warm hands were shoved down into his pants that were by degrees slowly sliding down Jack’s legs and pooling around his ankles.
But really, you couldn’t blame Jack for coming with his fingers entangled in Sawyer’s blonde hairs and his head thrown back against the wall with a solid thump with Sawyer’s pointy little canine teeth scraping over his pulse points and his hand squeezing around Jack’s cock nice and tight with the thumb smoothing over the head. You just couldn’t, because that wouldn’t be fair. You try minding your business and then holding out when Sawyer basically propositions you at gunpoint and then sticks his warm, broad hands down your pants. Yeah, it’s hard, especially after however long its been without any sort of deviation from sleeping, eating, watching the hatch, being suspicious of Locke, keeping other people alive and keeping himself alive.
“Damm, Doc. Maybe next time you’ll wait for me before you come all over the place.”
Pause.
“Or maybe next time I can tie you up.”
Pause.
“…Or maybe next time I’ll handcuff you and blindfold you out in the middle of the jungle.”
Pause. Then a smirk and a laugh.
“There we go, nice t’meet you again, little Doc.”