Lazy Sunday
Series: A Pain That I'm Used To
Title: Lazy Sunday
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Seriously, what would happen if I claimed they were mine? Would someone show up at my door with a cease and desist order?
Dedication: To gemjam, who gave me the comment!porn prompt that led to this 30 page check-in on the "A Pain That I'm Used To" boys. :)
Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6
Sawyer wakes reluctantly, a faint noise off in the distance calling him back to reality from his pleasant dreams. Rolling on his side, he lets out a futile moan of protest and reaches for Jack, thinking that if he has to wake up, he might as well wake up for a reason.
But when he feels for Jack’s familiar body lying next to his, all he finds is empty space. Instead of a firm bicep, he finds a soft pillow. Instead of the sharp stubble of Jack's cheek, his hand brushes over the fuzzy warmth of the cotton sheets. Instead of the flat ripple of muscles on Jack’s stomach, he feels the pattern of the hard mattress under his fingers.
He groans in frustration. His hand clenches into a fist and he pounds the bed once, hard, swearing under his breath.
“Fucker did it again.” Sawyer finally forces his eyes open and he props himself up on one elbow, brushing his messy hair from his face as he glances at the taunting numbers on the digital clock on Jack's nightstand. Eight-thirty a.m. Far too early to be awake on a weekend, much less awake and alone.
“Jack!” Sawyer barks, his voice slightly hoarse. He coughs and tries again, louder this time. “Jack!” Nothing but silence. “God damn him. I told him…” He throws back the comforter and kicks off the sheets angrily, swinging his feet over the side of the bed, cursing again as they hit the cold floor.
The intense winter morning light, the kind of pure white glow that seeps into the room no matter how hard one tries to block it out, is streaming in through the thick glass of the bedroom window, casting the pattern of the panes across the wooden floor. Sawyer can hear a snow plow drive by, the noise unmistakable in its obnoxious mechanical drone. It must have kept snowing throughout the night if they are still out and about. He doesn’t feel like going to look. There could be six feet of snow out there and he wouldn’t care; he has no plans whatsoever to go outside.
Jack, however, is apparently hell bent on doing the opposite. This is the third weekend in a row that Sawyer has woken up alone in a bed far too big for one, reaching for someone who isn’t there. During the week, he’s used to it - Jack is always up before him, getting ready to go to the hospital. But weekends are supposed to be different. Weekends are supposed to be about sleeping in, especially during the wintertime when getting out of bed required braving the intense cold that seems to seep into the bedroom during the night. Jack keeps talking about getting the place re-insulated but is always too busy to call someone to do it. Sawyer supposes he should take it upon himself to get it done but he’s not sure that spending Jack’s money on home improvements is something he’s comfortable doing.
Now, he wishes he had just done it, because it’s impossibly freezing sitting there in his boxers and nothing else. He is about to drag himself from the bed and find something warmer to wear when he hears the sound of the back door opening and a set of keys being tossed onto the table. The linoleum in the kitchen squeaks under Jack’s feet as Sawyer listens to him move, sure that Jack must have something else on his mind if he’s forgotten to take his snow-soaked sneakers off. Sure enough, moments later he hears Jack swear, one thud and then a second, the shoes quickly hitting the floor in front of the door.
Sighing heavily, Sawyer crawls back into bed and pulls the covers back over his body, not about to go downstairs to greet him or to meet him with a smile when he inevitably walks back into their bedroom. The sheets are still warm from his own body heat and he snuggles into them with a heavy pout, knowing he must look like a petulant child but not caring. No one is there to see him. Though there should be, and that fact only makes him scowl harder.
After a few minutes of listening to Jack puttering around downstairs, Sawyer hears his footsteps on the back staircase, moving way too fast and with way too much energy for someone awake any time before noon.
Sawyer rolls onto his side and faces away from the bedroom door, tugging the covers up under his chin and forcing his eyes closed, ready to force himself back into sleep purely to spite Jack. The second Jack enters, he knows it’s completely pointless; Jack is clearly trying to “accidentally” wake him, being way too loud and careless as he walks around.
“You tryin' to wake the dead?” Sawyer snaps in a huff, sitting up suddenly and whipping his head toward Jack to glare at him. Jack is standing in front of the open closet door with an innocent look of surprise on his face.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” Jack asks and Sawyer grunts, pushing to sit up further, leaning against the headboard.
“Of course you woke me, ya dumbass, isn't that what you were tryin' to do?” Sawyer mutters. He eyes Jack’s clothes. The bottoms of his black track pants are soaked and splattered with a faint trace of white residue, evidence of salt from the street. Jack pulls off his oversized black hooded sweatshirt, his faded grey Red Sox tee riding up his stomach. He tosses the hoodie onto the armchair and adjusts his t-shirt, which is damp with sweat and clinging to his chest and back. He doesn't reply to Sawyer's accusation and Sawyer knows he won't anytime soon, so he just moves on. “How long you go today?”
“Only 5K,” Jack shrugs as if that’s nothing. Sawyer snorts and shakes his head, clearly disgruntled.
“Ain’t it a little cold to be out there doin’ that, Jacko?” His fingers play with the edge of the blanket as he watches Jack tug his pants off.
“Once you get running, Sawyer, work up a sweat, you barely notice it,” Jack states. Sawyer rolls his eyes.
“I can think of a better way to work up a sweat, Doc, and you wouldn’t even have to leave the bed,” he retorts suggestively. “Which is supposed to be what Sundays are all about. Or so say the church folk.”
“The ‘church folk’ say Sunday is sex day?”
“I meant a day of rest.”
“You mean after the sex.”
“Obviously.”
“I like how you’ve chosen to follow the whole resting-on-Sunday bit yet dismiss the rest of religion as ridiculous,” Jack laughs and tosses the pants into the hamper along with his wet socks. “Remind me that I should do laundry later.”
“Like hell you’re doin’ laundry later,” Sawyer protests. “And they were onto something with the whole Sunday thing. It was a damn fine idea.”
“Sawyer, I’m sorry. I have to get stuff done today. My weeks are too crazy, I need the weekend to get all the rest of it-“
“What you need, Jackass, is to get back in this bed and take a load off. It won’t kill you to spend a mornin’ in bed. You haven’t slept in for weeks-“
“Hey, what about two weeks ago, I-“
“You mean two weeks ago when you went out runnin’ at 6am, ate breakfast, read the damn paper, and then crawled back into bed when you thought I was still asleep and pretended you’d been there all along, like you never got up?” Jack hangs his head sheepishly and blushes in embarrassment at being caught. Sawyer shoots him a warning look. “Ya ain’t slick enough to pull a fast one on me yet, Doc.”
“I guess not,” Jack shrugs, admitting that he should have known better. He hooks his thumb absently over the waistband of his dark blue and green plaid boxers, looking at Sawyer for a moment before turning back to the closet to dig out some clean clothes.
“And comin’ in here and makin’ a ruckus tryin’ to get me outta bed ain’t winnin’ you any brownie points, I can tell you that much.” This results in another sheepish smile as Jack puts his hands up, signaling defeat. He grabs a clean t-shirt from the closet and then he points to a brown paper coffee cup he had set on the dresser.
“Well, if it helps any, I brought you Tim’s.” He sets down the shirt and picks up the cup. He holds it out to Sawyer, who doesn’t move to take it.
“Hell, Doc, I plan on sleepin’ all day long and you think I want a pick-me-up?” Sawyer says and Jack sighs, defeated. He taps his fingers on the brown plastic lid, a frown creasing his face. “And besides, that damn coffee ain’t that good, I don’t see what the fuss is about.”
“No one will ever mistake you for Canadian, Sawyer.” Jack chuckles and Sawyer raises an eyebrow. Jack pops the tab on the lid and latches it back. He takes a tentative sip, evidently deciding not to let it go to waste.
“And here I thought the accent was the dead giveaway.” Sawyer’s smirk fades into a genuine smile, his annoyance beginning to fade, feeling he adequately expressed it already. “Hey. At least I like hockey.”
“Oh, that reminds me.” Jack snaps his fingers as a thought occurs to him and he sets down the cup of coffee quickly. He reaches for the suit coat he wore to work on Friday that is hanging on the doorknob and digs into the front right pocket, pulling out two tickets. “Emma had these for the Leafs and couldn’t use them. They’re for next Tuesday, if you wanna go.”
“Hell, why not.” Sawyer replies. “I didn’t think Emma liked hockey.” Jack smiles and shakes his head.
“I don’t think she does. It’s Dan,” Jack comments. “I think the tickets were actually his and just handed off to us through her.”
“She’s still with that guy, huh?” Sawyer sinks back down into the pillows, trying to let the tension and annoyance of simply being awake go. Jack nods in response, looking amused.
“Yep, she seems to like him.”
“Well, after you, I’m sure any other guy’s a dream,” Sawyer taunts and Jack shoots him a hurt look. Sawyer laughs. “Come on, Doc, you know you’re lucky she even talks to you, let alone is still friends with ya.”
“Oh go back to sleep.” Jack pulls off his sweaty tee and tosses it at Sawyer’s face. Sawyer bats away the shirt and laughs as Jack heads for the door.
“Where you goin’?”
“Gotta take a shower.” He pauses in the entryway, turning back. “You wanna come?”
“Course I wanna come, Doc, but not in there.” Sawyer quips. “Too damn cold to get outta this here bed. I’m nice n’ comfy cozy and I plan on stayin' this way.”
“It’s not that cold, you big baby.”
“What do you want from me? I ain’t like you, I’m from god damned Tennessee. This cold, snow and wind bullshit ain’t what I’m used to. It’s like a Siberian steppe out there for chrissakes.”
“Sawyer, it’s not like I grew up in Alaska. L.A. is probably just as hot as 'god damned Tennessee'.” Jack watches, an amused smile playing on his lips, as Sawyer just burrows deeper into the blankets, giving Jack a stern look.
“Whatever. You’re still more used to it than I am.”
“That's probably because I get out of bed every now and again and go outside. Just a thought,” Jack teases then has to quickly duck the pillow that Sawyer throws at him in response. Laughing, he heads for the bathroom, leaving Sawyer once again to the silence of their bedroom.
Sawyer slides back down under the blankets and adjusts his pillow underneath his head, trying to get comfortable like he was before his rude awakening. He closes his eyes as the shower turns on, the sound of the running water lulling him back toward the edge of sleep. Knowing Jack is right down the hall, stubbornly refusing to relax as always, is comforting. And as he always can when Jack is close by, Sawyer finds himself easily slipping back into slumber.
When he wakes back up, the bed is shifting underneath him, springs squeaking and the blankets being tugged. Jack nestles in beside him carefully and slides his arm around Sawyer's waist. The crisp clean smell of soap and shampoo and the warm, slightly damp feel of Jack's freshly showered body pressed against his invades his senses, the familiar sensations automatically causing his own body to stir on instinct alone. Jack rests his chin on Sawyer's shoulder and lets his long fingers brush over Sawyer's stomach, an intimate gesture that Sawyer used to tease him for yet would honestly hate to do without.
Jack doesn’t speak, however, and it only takes a few moments of silence for Sawyer to realize that he has no intention to. Rather he has climbed into bed and chosen not to wake Sawyer this time, instead settling in quietly and trying to relax. Because Jack had tried not to wake him, Sawyer pretends he didn’t and remains silent as Jack’s fingers caress his skin softly. Eventually Jack’s hand stops moving and his breathing evens out, the rise and fall of Jack’s chest against his back growing steady.
With Jack’s arms around him and his breath falling softly over his neck, Sawyer feels a sense of security that no one else has ever been able to give him. He doesn’t want to admit all the things that Jack makes him feel and probably couldn’t articulate them in the right words if ever dared to try, but in a way it seems like something more than love.
There had been a time when he could get by without Jack but now he knows if anything were to happen and Jack was out of his life, he wouldn’t know how to survive it. Him, Sawyer, a guy who had survived everything and prided himself on battling through things that would have decimated anyone else…he’s sure that losing Jack would break him. He wouldn’t be one of those people who make it through with tear stains and broken hearts.
If Jack were gone, he wouldn’t even know how to breathe.
Sawyer twines his fingers with Jack’s and brings Jack’s hand up to his mouth, brushing his lips gently over his knuckles, then settles their clasped hands against his stomach, pulling Jack more tightly to him. Jack makes a small contented noise and shifts his body slightly, crossing his left ankle over Sawyer’s feet.
“Your feet are so cold, Sawyer,” he murmurs, giving Sawyer’s hand a small squeeze.
“I thought you fell asleep,” Sawyer replies, surprised. He angles his head back slightly to look at Jack. Jack smiles crookedly and forces his eyes closed again.
“I’m trying. I promise.”
“I ‘preciate it.” Sawyer replies and Jack brushes his lips against his neck and settles his head back on his shoulder.
“You should put socks on.”
“I ain’t gonna wear socks to bed,” Sawyer replies. “That ain’t sexy.”
“You’d rather be sexy than comfortable?” Jack asks, chuckling softly.
“Right now I’d say I’m both, Doc, and not a sock in sight. You ain’t wearin’ socks either.”
“My feet aren’t cold,” Jack points out.
“So you can put them on mine and warm ‘em up, problem solved,” Sawyer counters and Jack sighs, giving in. He rubs his feet against Sawyer’s and Sawyer has to smile.
“There, better?” Jack asks and Sawyer nods. He feels warm all over, both from the down comforter and flannel sheets pulled up over their both of them and the enveloping heat of Jack’s arms, the feel of his body nestled beside his. Sawyer moves his fingers lightly over the back of Jack’s hand on his stomach and then covers it entirely with his palm, sliding Jack’s touch down his abs toward his boxers.
“’Nother question, Doc.” His touch is soft but enough to make him want more and he guides Jack's hand even lower.
“Hmm?” Jack murmurs, taking the initiative now and running his finger along the line of Sawyer’s waistband.
“You’re not wearin’ socks. You wearin’ anything else?”
“No.”
“Then why do I still got my boxers on?” Sawyer asks. He can feel Jack shake his head behind him and his fingertips slip underneath the elastic of Sawyer’s underwear.
“I don’t know,” he replies and tugs down slightly, evidently ready and willing to fix the problem. “I was trying to be good...I thought you wanted me to get some sleep.”
“I guess I’m a bundle of contradictions then, ain't I.”
“Guess so.” Jack moves his hands and pushes Sawyer’s boxers down his thighs, though in this position Sawyer really has to be the one to strip them off. Sawyer shifts and finishes the task, breaking Jack’s embrace for a moment to bend his legs and tug them off, shoving them from the edge of the bed and onto the floor. He fits himself back into the curve of Jack’s body, feeling Jack’s cock pressing against his ass, already half-hard. Jack’s hands slide over Sawyer’s sharp hips and his fingers tangle in the curls of hair between his legs, stroking around him slowly and working his way toward what they both really want.
“Fuck…I never get tired of that,” Sawyer breathes out, letting his eyes drift closed at the feel of Jack’s strong hand wrapping around his cock, which quickly swells in Jack’s grasp, all of the blood rushing downward. It takes little for his body to react these days; instead of the familiar becoming boring like it always had with previous partners, each time with Jack only gets more exciting. He’s beginning to know what each and every single groan means, even the ones he rarely hears, and he's starting to remember what Jack wants when he hitches his hips one way or touches his body another way, movements so small and subtle that he can barely believe he notices them. Learning it all thrills him, just like knowing Jack’s mood from the set of his shoulders or being able to guess what Jack is thinking from the look in his eyes makes him excited.
It’s not the fact that he can read Jack so well that fills him with happiness every day. After all, he’d made quite the career out of reading people. Being able to figure people out has never been a challenge. What he loves is that he knows what Jack desires and he truly wants to give it to him, that he knows Jack through and through and would never even think of exploiting that fact.
“Sawyer…” Jack whispers and urges his hips toward Sawyer’s body, letting Sawyer feel his arousal nudging his lower back. He strokes Sawyer long and slow, treasuring every single movement, drawing it out. Sawyer pushes into his hand, arching his hips slightly and sinking into Jack’s touch, wanting more so badly. Jack has his right hand in Sawyer’s hair, his fingers running through it even more leisurely than his left moves between Sawyer’s legs, a loving tease that still feels like smoldering desire, a long and winding trail of gunpowder slowly sparking and hissing to flame as it leads toward the inevitable explosion.
Sawyer makes a move to turn in Jack’s embrace and face him, wrap his leg over his waist and thrust against him, to feel his cock against his cock, but Jack holds him firmly in place. Sawyer lets out a weak noise of protest but quickly gives in when Jack pulls back and moves his hand from Sawyer’s hair down to the curve of his ass, sliding to find his entrance and circling around it.
Moaning, Sawyer covers Jack’s hand on his dick and urges him to move faster, touch harder. His palm is sweaty and warm over Jack’s and he can feel himself throbbing throughout his entire body, his pulse pounding hard. Jack slides his finger deep inside Sawyer’s body, stroking him in time with his hand on Sawyer’s length, making Sawyer writhe and pant breathlessly under his ministrations. When he lets his finger push against the swollen gland Sawyer groans loudly and bucks his hips, liquid beginning to drip from the head of his now rock hard cock.
“Jack…” Sawyer draws his name out in a helpless moan, the fingers of his free hand grabbing desperately at the sheets underneath his body. Jack withdraws his hand from underneath Sawyer’s and gently urges Sawyer’s leg up, bending his knee.
“Like this…” he murmurs as he shows him what he wants and Sawyer complies, ripping his hand from his cock and hooking his fingers underneath his knee, holding his thigh up against his chest. Sawyer waits, trying to control his breathing as he feels Jack move away and then hears him dig through the nightstand drawer for the lube. His unattended dick trembles and leaks over his stomach as he feels Jack’s slick wet cock against his ass. Jack guides himself into Sawyer’s tight entrance, pushing in very slowly and carefully, exhaling sharply as he does so.
“Oh god, you feel so fucking good…” Sawyer groans, wishing he was in a better position to turn his head and kiss Jack, but Jack is too far behind him at the moment as he pulls out almost completely. Then he thrusts back inside, harder this time, and Sawyer reaches behind to put his hand on Jack’s face, angle him over to capture his mouth with his. Jack bends his leg underneath Sawyer’s and it seems like he’s surrounding Sawyer entirely as he reaches back around and reclaims Sawyer’s pulsating hard-on, fisting him roughly.
Sawyer gasps into Jack’s open mouth and their kiss loses coordination as they begin to rock together, their breath mingling, tongues tangling and lips brushing. Sawyer can feel every inch of Jack as he pushes in and out, every last little sensation caused by the movement. Jack’s touch sets his skin on fire and his kisses make him dizzy. He can’t help but tighten around Jack as the pressure starts building within him, working inward from his fingers and toes, crawling up his legs and arms and gathering in his stomach, a jolt of intense pleasure finally centering in his cock and his ass as he explodes violently over Jack’s hand, shooting over his stomach and the bed sheets. Jack keeps pumping him, spreading the hot liquid over his cock as he starts to go soft. The aftershocks rumble through him and he shivers, trembling in Jack’s hand.
“Come on, Jack, please…” He begs him, needing to feel Jack’s warmth fill him, for Jack to find his own release. He knows Jack could easily keep going out of sheer stubbornness, perhaps get him worked up all over again. He’s done so before. He hadn’t sensed Jack was in that kind of mood and he hadn’t hung on because of it, knowing Jack wouldn’t hold back. He doubts for one moment but then Jack proves him right by giving in and letting go easily, wanting to tumble over the edge and let Sawyer have him.
Jack relaxes into him and Sawyer sinks back against him, feeling satisfied and content. Jack moves his leg and then guides Sawyer’s back down, running his hand over Sawyer’s thigh. His muscles feel stiff, but in a good way, and Jack’s fingers sliding over his skin ease the tension quickly. He is drifting off toward sleep quickly, completely satiated; when Jack starts to pull out he protests.
“Just lay here for a minute, Doc,” he orders firmly but softly, grabbing Jack’s hand and pulling Jack close again. Jack relents and stays behind him, pressing his lips to Sawyer’s shoulder blade, but his mind is already clearly back on what comes next.
“We both need a shower now,” he mumbles, trailing a finger through the mess on Sawyer’s stomach. “And we need to change the sheets.”
“You could just lick me clean,” Sawyer suggests playfully, swiping one of his own fingers through the creamy liquid and bringing it to Jack’s lips. Jack shoots him a look but wraps his lips over his finger anyway, curling his tongue around it and drawing it deeper into this mouth.
“If you really want me to,” Jack says when he lets go of Sawyer’s hand, the look in his eyes and the sensual undertone of his voice letting Sawyer know that it would mean no reluctant sacrifice on his part. Sawyer just nods, his eyes never leaving Jack’s. Jack smiles gently. “Then lay back.”
Sawyer does as he’s told and rolls onto his back, but folds his arms behind his head and cracks a grin as he rests back against the headboard, settling in like a vacationing sunbather being waited on by the pool boy. Jack pinches his side in response and Sawyer swats his hand away.
“Hey, you want this or not?” Jack snaps jokingly and Sawyer puts his hands up to signal truce, laughter shaking his body that quickly fades when Jack lays his mouth on his stomach, his tongue darting out to lick Sawyer’s come from his skin. Sawyer draws in a short breath and watches rapturously as Jack laps up the evidence of his lust and continues to bathe his stomach with attention, dipping the tip of his tongue into his navel and tracing along the defined lines of his muscles.
His smile disappears all together, slipping into seriousness, his eyes darkening with lust as he takes in what Jack is doing to his body. He reaches down and sets a hand gently on the back of Jack’s head, feeling the short bristle of his hair underneath his palm, then lets his fingers drift down to his stubbled cheek. Jack’s mouth reverently moving over his body seems more intimate than sex and even though his cock is starting to grow hard all over again, he hopes Jack will just ignore it and keep his mouth where it is, or move to kiss him. He wants nothing more than to kiss Jack and have him lay next to him, on top of him, it doesn’t matter, as long as he’s close.
Jack starts to move lower and Sawyer slips his finger underneath his chin, tilting Jack’s face up toward his.
“Hey. C’mere.” He jerks his head up toward the top of the bed. Jack smiles crookedly and slowly crawls up toward him, holding himself above Sawyer’s body, hands on either side of Sawyer’s shoulders. Sawyer leans slightly forward and kisses Jack softly before taking it deeper, tasting himself inside Jack’s mouth. Jack moves his tongue languorously against Sawyer’s and Sawyer lets his hands drift over Jack’s back, feeling his muscles shifting as he moves. Then he rubs Jack’s shoulders and biceps, silently urging him to stop holding himself up and let his weight down on top of him.
Jack gets the idea and gently lowers himself down onto Sawyer, letting Sawyer wrap his arms around him as they lose themselves in one another’s kiss. They are both slowly growing aroused all over again but neither seems to be paying attention to it, the fact that their cocks are getting hard, rubbing against the other, just a side note to the main attraction of each other’s mouths. By the time either of them acknowledges it, they’re both on the brink, close to coming all over again. They are rocking hard, hips pushing against hips, hands groping and lips crushing, the slow and sweet nature of the beginning slipping away as they pick up the pace and race for the end, each of their bodies deciding that they'd had enough foreplay for the day and wanting something more.
It’s Jack who breaks first, his lips growing unsteady against Sawyer’s, his heavy breathing interrupted by the occasional whimper as it all gets to be too much for him to handle. He pulls back, biting his lip and Sawyer forces his eyes open. Jack’s face is still close to his but he’s breathing too fast and hard to keep kissing him so Sawyer simply brings a hand to the side of Jack’s face and touches his cheek.
“Are you…?”
“God yeah. I’m so…I’m so close, Sawyer…” Sawyer urges his hips up off the mattress and rubs against Jack harder, the friction between their bodies heated and intense, ready to combust at any moment.
“C’mon,” Sawyer whispers. “I want to see you...” Jack grunts and his body shudders; his eyes glaze and roll slightly upward as his lower body is seized with the force of his orgasm, pouring out over Sawyer underneath him. As Jack’s come hits his skin Sawyer loses control himself, grunting as he thrusts against Jack forcefully.
As soon as he is able he finds Jack’s mouth once again, kissing him because he absolutely needs to, can’t not. They kiss and kiss until Sawyer begins to feel the lack of oxygen, yet he'd rather stop breathing than let Jack go. Jack rips his lips away when neither of them can last any longer and he rolls off of him and onto his back, desperately needing to catch his breath. He stares up the ceiling like he’s trying to get his vision to focus and Sawyer watches him with a sated smile on his face, his chest rising and falling quickly, confident that Jack had felt that orgasm down to the very tips of his toes. The heavy sheets stick to their skin now and Sawyer lifts them slightly, glancing down at their naked bodies.
“I think we need that shower now, Jack,” he comments and Jack laughs, turning his head to look at Sawyer with a light smile on his face.
“You’ll get out of bed?”
“Only as long as we get right back in,” Sawyer replies and Jack nods. Sawyer shifts, starting to get up but Jack sets his hand on his arm, pulling him back.
“In a sec. I don’t think I can move just yet.” Sawyer grins triumphantly and settles back down next to him.
------->THIS PART CONTINUED...