Fic: This Is How It Starts (prequel to Up and Away), Lost baseball AU, NC17, Jack/Sawyer
Okay, so this is very long overdue. Back in January, I offered a fic for the help_haiti auction and the wonderful jaydblu somehow thought it was worth her money ♥
When we discussed what she'd like, she expressed only one request: that it features Jack or Foxy, maybe a little plot but porn would be good. Who could blame her? lol!
I tried different things to get there, actual Lost fic as much on the Island and the alt universe, but I could not get the stories to cooperate. But then I thought... why not go AU? And if you know J at all, the gamble that revisiting my baseball AU would probably be ok with her seemed pretty safe.
You were very very patient with me honey, as I wrote other stuff when this was stuck. You're one awesome lady and a wonderful friend. I just hope you enjoy it ♥
Title: This Is How It Starts (prequel to Up and Away)
Fandom: This is a completely alternate Lost universe where the Lost characters are baseball player. This chapter is Lost only, it becomes a crossover with SPN in later chapters.
Featuring : Jack/Sawyer, Christian, Charlie, etc. Mention of Sawyer/OFCs
Rating: NC17
Word count: around 8,200
Disclaimer: I’m just playing with the boys, I only own them in my dreams and get no profit out of it all (it went to charity!). I don't think there's a need to warn for anything.
Notes: Thanks to jaydblu , who paid actual money for this, and to siluria who just keeps on giving as a beta ♥
Summary: "Jack! There you are," Christian says. "I'm not sure if you know each other. Our new relief all star, Sawyer Ford. Sawyer, my son Jack, catcher."
"Baseball is a game where a curve is an optical illusion, a screwball can be a pitch or a person, stealing is legal and you can spit anywhere you like except in the umpire's eye or on the ball."
Jim Murray (1919 - 1998), American Sports Writer, winner of a Pulitzer Prize.
This Is How It Starts (prequel to Up and Away)
Sometimes, Jack thinks that he's way too old for this shit. He looks at the kids running around, hitting balls and pitching hard and wonders when he started feeling like he soon won't be able to follow. Spring training brings out his insecurities; it always has even in the best years of his career. What if he gets hurt? If there's a better/younger/faster catcher? Jack supposes that the mere infants running around on the diamond must be in equal parts terrified and elated to be there. At least Jack remembers his first years that way.
As a veteran, Jack needs set the example and tries to project as much confidence as he can. He's checking out some potential young talent for the relief pitching staff when Charlie leans on the cage beside him and they bump fist amicably.
"So, do you think he'll deign to show up today?" Charlie asks, chewing a bit too hard on his gum before blowing an enormous bubble.
They're waiting for the golden boy's appearance, James "Sawyer" Ford, whom they got in the off season for two prospects Jack was counting on. He was not happy with the decision, especially since he heard a lot about the guy's temper and how he's hell to work with.
"Ford's already fined for not turning up yesterday. Who knows," Jack says but he doesn't really care.
But low and behold, there's some movement near the dugout, journalists and onlookers flock, and Coach Sheppard walks on the field with his new protégé. Sawyer's in uniform, too, and he's laughing with the Coach. Jack wonders cynically if it's been timed for the cameras. That's another thing he's heard about Sawyer: how much of an attention whore he is. They've never been in the same league and even in inter-league games they never faced each other; all that Jack has are rumors and second hand gossip. The stories all converge, though, so there are high chances that they're true.
As much as Jack would like to do what he's paid to do and, if he's got time, to re-connect with his teammates, he knows that meeting the new franchise maker is expected; he turns around and leans against the cage as his father and Ford slowly make their way towards him.
"Jack! There you are," Christian says. "I'm not sure if you know each other. Our new relief all star, Sawyer Ford. Sawyer, my son Jack, catcher. And our second baseman, Charlie Pace"
"Pleased to meet you," Jack says amiably and shakes Sawyer's hand. Big hands, solid grip, then it's Charlie's turn, who babbles something about being a fan.
A smile makes Sawyer's mouth curl up and dimples show, a bit more genuine now. The guy is ridiculously good looking, and even if Jack knew that in some abstract I've-seen-him-on-TV-and-in-magazines way, up close it's undeniable.
"Definitely my pleasure," Sawyer replies to Jack in particular, accent thick and drawled.
The pleasantry is joined by a once over, but if it's trying to assess Jack as a potential ally or checking him out, that’s up in the air. Sawyer would not blatantly flirt with Jack on a first meeting, in front of the coach - his father - and with the press hovering, right? And he doesn't know Jack is bi, so why would he? On the other hand, there's the saying about hiding in plain sight so Jack can't be sure he's not flirting. Jack feels his face heat and hopes he's not flushing while Sawyer's blue eyes twinkle, amused. Satisfied in having made his little impression on Jack, Sawyer strolls onto the field, following Charlie who offered to introduce him to the rest of the team. Jack looks on as he goes, noting the swagger, but Christian brings him back to reality rather suddenly.
"I'm under the impression he's going to be a handful," Christian says, following Sawyer with his eyes too. Using "impression" is just to be polite, they both know he will be. "You'll catch for him, he'd be too much to handle for Gary."
"Yes, Sir," Jack says, torn between excitement and annoyance. As if he needs to be in charge to reign in a prissy prima donna. A damn pretty prissy prima donna, though, Jack has to admit. If being gorgeous is going to make things harder or easier for Jack, that’s up in the air at this point too.
***
Camp ends and the real season begins with a twenty day trip on the road. Their new stadium's construction isn't finished since a series of bad luck delayed the grand opening for a couple of weeks and they have to make do. Christian has decided that the baby sitting duty of Sawyer includes rooming with the guy, which is about to drive Jack out of his mind. Why? Because Sawyer seems totally unable to keep clothes on, that's why. As soon as he makes it to their room, Sawyer hops in the shower and the shirt almost never makes it back on, even if he's lounging in bed reading a paperback. Sawyer loves reading, which is a surprise. Not that Jack had thought James was stupid, but he sure downplayed how smart he was most of the time. Under the charm lays a very sharp intelligence, and without realizing it at first, Jack find himself more and more fascinated. On top of that, keeping his eyes adverted from the skin on display is proving to be very hard.
Getting Jack flustered seems to be a big game for Sawyer, though, because he scores with the ladies as much as he wants. He comes back to their room reeking of sex and perfume regularly, before once again jumping in the shower. Sawyer might flirt non-stop with anything with a pulse, but he only seems to hit it off with women. More the pity, because Jack finds himself being more and more interested to tap that, pretty badly too. He bottles it all up and tries to act as normal as possible around Sawyer and hopes his little crush will go away soon.
As for their relationship on the field? It's not so great. Sawyer doesn't trust his calls and more than half the time throws whatever the fuck he wants, aka his fastball. Jack is pretty pissed at him, especially since he knows that Christian is bound to find out soon enough. He's made off-hands remarks to Jack, in fact, and nothing Christian says is casual; Jack's about to get shit very soon. They're lucky though, because the fucker is so talented that even Sawyer's bad ideas result in more strikeouts than home runs. Jack channels all of his frustration on hitting the ball and his batting average thanks him. At least, there's a good side to this situation.
Jack's had a particularly bad night catching wise where Sawyer pissed him off at least one time each inning he pitched after coming in early in the fourth to replace Paolo (he might have pulled something, that's bad news). On the other hand, Jack hit a home run and a double, with five RBIs. None the less, he's absolutely fuming in the locker room after the game while everyone is celebrating their win.
"Cheer up, emo boy!" Sawyer says as Jack puts on his coat. He's as easygoing as ever, as if there's absolutely nothing to be mad about and Jack just can't take it anymore.
"Everything's a game for you, isn't it?" Jack hisses, getting way more into Sawyer's space that he usually allows himself. "One day, it's going to blow up in your face."
Sawyer has the galls to look slightly taken aback at Jack's intensity, taking a step back; it figures that only direct aggression works on that man.
"Whoa," Sawyer says as he raises placating hands. "Careful, you're gonna burst something."
Jack grits his teeth, tempted to punch Sawyer in the face but they're in the middle of the locker room and already a couple of people are looking over with interest. There's nothing more gossipy than a sports locker, and Jack knows he's got to keep up a certain facade or rumors will be flying left and right in no time.
"I'm out of here," Jack says. "You're not worth the hassle, jerk."
Not even waiting to see if the words have any kind of effect on Sawyer, Jack turns around and leaves, aiming for their hotel's bar. He needs a stiff one, and bad.
**
One drink turns in to two and then eight. By the time Jack considers he's mellowed enough to go back to the room without killing Sawyer (if he's even there), he's slightly over tipsy and not far from smashed. He shouldn't have drunk so fast. And maybe could have eaten something more than peanuts.
Thankfully, no fans came to try and talk to him after the third drink - being on the road has some advantages - and Jack manages to get to the room without embarrassing himself or the team. The damn keycard is not working right, though, because it takes about five times, flipping it twice, before it finally works. Jack over balances when he gets in while pushing the door, and he's surprised that a light's still on; Sawyer's sitting on his bed and watching TV. Shit. Jack had kind of hoped he'd be out screwing some groupie while Jack passed out.
Jack decides to play it as if Sawyer's invisible because he's still mad, dammit. He pulls his coat off, tries to hang it but it falls on the floor. Jack glares at it but doesn't even try to get it. Fucking coat.
"You okay, there, champ?" Sawyer asks.
Following his plan not to even acknowledging the man, Jack leaves the coat on the floor and goes in the bathroom, locking the door. It takes a bit more time than usual, and more caution, but Jack finally gets ready for bed. He's not stupid, so he downs three full glasses of water with several Advil gel caps, hoping it will be enough to take the edge off the probable hangover waiting for him tomorrow. He keeps his undershirt and boxers and decides that's how he's going to bed, throwing the rest of his clothes in the tub.
When he gets back in the room, the TV is still on: Sawyer sure doesn't want to let him skulk to his bed in peace. Jack's still going to try, though, and manages not to stumble as he walks to his bed. Once flat on his back, the room spins a bit, but it should be okay. Being sick would not be cool at all. A little collaboration to avoid any or all confrontation would have been appreciated, but no, it's too much to ask as Sawyer finally addresses him.
"You're not talking to me anymore, is that it?"
Jack thinks the most appropriate answer is to not talk at all.
"Seriously?" Sawyer asks.
Saying something would defeat the whole purpose of not talking, so Jack just turns on his side, back to Sawyer.
"Fine, be like that, Jackass," Sawyer says.
At least he shuts off the TV and Jack's on the fast track to sleep. Thank god for small favors.
**
The next morning is a whole other kind of hell though. It seems that the preemptive Advils and water weren't enough, and just opening his eyes make Jack's head want to split in two. The obvious solution is to hide under his pillow. There's a chuckle from somewhere in the room and Jack remembers whose fault this is so he gives a one finger salute to the room in general, aiming towards the direction he thinks Sawyer might be. There is more laughing and the door opens and closes, then nothing. After a couple of minutes of slow breathing, Jack risks a peek out, and sees that he's alone, which is good.
As soon as he thinks he can stand up and not keel over, Jack makes it to the bathroom to relieve himself and takes three more Advils, before pathetically going back to bed. Jack wants to shower, but he'll give the pills a bit more time to do their job, first.
He must have dozed off for a couple of minutes and is woken again by the door. He still has his head under his pillow, but it's better now, the hammering has gone down a tiny bit. Enough that he manages to sense when Sawyer gets near, and he hears a noise when something is deposited on the nightstand.
"C'mon, Jacko, drink this," Sawyer says.
Suspicious, Jack lifts a corner of his pillow and steals a peek. A glass, with what seems like tomato juice. Just thinking about it makes Jack's stomach twist in a bad way.
"Ugh, no. Leave me alone," Jack says.
"Oh, he talks! It's a secret recipe, you'll feel better after. I brought you crackers, too."
It's like Sawyer's speaking Chinese, because it doesn't make any sense. Jack emerges from under the pillow and squints at Sawyer.
"You're being nice, what the fuck?" he accuses.
Sawyer scoffs.
"I can be nice!"
It's Jack's turn to make a disbelieving sound.
"No, you don't do nice. There's something behind this," Jack says.
He's got problems to think straight and this conversation is mightily inconvenient. Jack hides his eyes under his elbow.
"What? Okay, so I do have an ulterior motive. I'm tired of your sulking," Sawyer says.
"Oh, that's so mature," Jack says.
"That's rich, coming from you."
"Can you just... go?" Jack says. And because he's not below begging, at this point, he adds, "Please?"
There's a moment of blessed silence. Maybe, just maybe, he'll get lucky.
"It's my room too, you know," Sawyer declares and nope, not in luck today it seems.
After that there's a silence of a couple of minutes. Jack is ready to plead again for Sawyer to go, because he just doesn't want to deal with the man, when Sawyer speaks first.
"I thought it was going fine," he grumbles.
For once, Sawyer sounds serious. Jack has no idea what he's talking about.
"What was going fine?"
There's a big sigh.
"I piss you off a little, you get riled up, hit the ball, we win. Everyone's happy," Sawyer says.
He can't be serious.
"You were refusing my calls on purpose, so I'd get pissed off?" Jack all but squeaks.
"You hit better when motivated," Sawyers says and he's starting to sound like a smartass again.
Jesus fucking Christ. Jack can't believe the nerves on the guy.
"I don't need your fucked up motivation techniques, jeez. And you're lucky we haven't faced a decent team yet, they'd light you up like Times Square."
"They can't hit me," Sawyer says.
There's so much smugness in the statement, Jack can't help but snort.
"Oh, they will. I hate you so much," Jack says, heartfelt. This, catching and rooming with Sawyer is definitely payback for something bad Jack did. Karma, whatever. He most probably pissed off his dad somewhere along the ride.
"Nah you don't," Sawyer says, casual. So fucking sure of himself.
Jack takes his arm off his face and turns his head to glare at Sawyer, who's sitting on his bed and looking back at him.
"I do, I really do," and he means it so much.
Sawyer has the nerves to show dimples at that, and Jack all but flails. Arrogance should not be so attractive.
"I think you like me," Sawyer says. "I think you like me a lot."
"No, I don't," Jack says, clenching his jaw.
"You might not enjoy the fact that you like me, but you do."
"I do not. I couldn't care less about you."
Not listening to a word Jack says, Sawyer smiles some more. This time it looks way too predatory. Shit.
"I can prove it," Sawyer says.
"God, just go away," Jack all but pleads. His head is hurting, his stomach is shot to hell and he doesn't have any energy for a stupid dare.
For one second, it seems like he's finally catching a break, but to Jack's dismay, Sawyer just gets up from his bed to sit on Jack's.
"You don't really want me to go," Sawyer says.
But Jack does, so much.
"I really really do, Sawyer."
"Nah," Sawyer says, then puts a hand on Jack's shin and trail it all the way up to his hip. Over the cover, granted, but it's clear enough and it makes Jack stop breathing, shocked. What the hell?
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Jack all but squeaks again. The squeaking has got to stop. He doesn't shake him off, though.
"Feeling you up?" Sawyer says, with a slow smile.
"Stop it."
Even to Jack's ear, it's weak at best. He's more than glad to be feeling really crappy and not tenting the covers, although it's only a matter of time if Sawyer goes on.
Sawyer's thumb is making a maddening circle motion on the covers over Jack's hip, and it takes everything Jack's got not to focus on that alone.
"Okay," Sawyer says, before getting up. "But if you change your mind..."
Jack didn't expect Sawyer to back off so easily. He tries to convince himself that the only emotion he feels as Sawyer leaves the room right now is relief.
***
Things go on almost as normal after that morning, except that now Sawyer usually listens when Jack calls pitches. Not one hundred percent of the time, but enough so it's noticeable and Jack is pleased. Still, when Sawyer wants to pitch his damn fastball, he does so. It takes a couple of games before Jack realizes it's usually in innings just before Jack is due at bat. Still trying to keep Jack's average up, then, and the worst thing is that it works. Jack's having his best stats in the last five years.
Another thing that changes is that Sawyer's not even being subtle anymore about the way he's hitting on Jack. It's nothing that could get people to talk, as baseball players go. Mostly it's frequent slaps on the ass and passing a little too close as often as he can get away with, but the intent is there. Often Jack can feel Sawyer's eyes on him, too. There are dimples and insults, the former as much as the latter, and slowly Jack's resolve to stay clear from trouble starts to waver.
He's tempted. So very tempted. He's wanted Sawyer since the first time he laid eyes on him at spring training, after all. It doesn't help that Jack knows it would be welcome. Even now that he knows Sawyer's bisexual too, Jack never sees Sawyer hit on another guy and the steady string of groupies is still there, although the frequency has lowered. If Jack's not mistaken, the girls are being used as peons by Sawyer, who hits on them and then checks out the effect it has on Jack.
Jack doesn't have someone in his life right now, so theoretically he could go for it. On the other hand, he's always been of the opinion that it's better to avoid flings with teammates, since it either ends badly or someone gets traded. Heartbreak ensues, yadda yadda: been there, done that. Jack is also conscious of his father's eyes on him, assessing and waiting for him to make a mistake that could be thrown back in his face. The way Sawyer acts suggests that his target being the coach's son is a bonus for him, a special thrill. It's one of the reasons why Jack still resists.
One thing's for sure: Sawyer's persistent. He doesn't get tired, even after several weeks of this little game, as if he's sure he'll get what he wants eventually. Jack muses that he most probably always had got what he wanted, so it's hard to blame him. Jack's not playing hard to get, but it gives the same results, fueling even more advances from Sawyer. He does let Jack have his space though, at least in the room they share on the road, never crossing a line that would make it uncomfortable enough to be awkward. The object of lust of the whole town wants Jack, and he's got to admit that it's good for the ego.
Slowly, Jack's defenses crumble, especially by the little touches here and there. Taken individually they don't look premeditated but they can't all be accidents. Pats of congratulations after crossing the plate or at the end of a game that linger a bit too long, corridors that just happen to be crowded as they go through so they brush chest to chest, 'hey buddy!' claps on the shoulder, 'did you see that?' nudges with a knee, 'whatcha doing?' shoulder bumps... It. Doesn't. Stop. The worst thing is that Jack realizes that he's started touching back. It's like he's been conditioned and he's nudging or bumping in return, gives a clap on the back, pokes Sawyer with his glove when they come back from a good inning. Jack's relaxing, finally, and in return Sawyer's mellower, smiles more, and behaves for crying out loud so it would be stupid to stop now.
They've had a good stretch of games played at home, but when they get back on the road Jack and Sawyer start to hang out more outside of the hotel and the field. Sawyer doesn't seem to chase tail as much, or more accurately he turns most of the girls down, but not before dazzling them. Jack watches with fascination as Sawyer lets them hang out to dry but how they still leave with a smile. When they go up to their room, more often than not they'll watch TV a bit and Sawyer deadpans on whatever's playing in a way that makes Jack laugh almost every time. In fact, Sawyer will joke until Jack honest to god giggles - he hates that he even can giggle so much - and then Sawyer will grin back, smug.
Jack realizes that Sawyer's on the fast track to becoming one of his closest friends, even with everything else. He never saw that one coming.
***
The frigging game lasted fourteen innings and almost gave Jack a heart attack before it was finally over (the tying run was on third with no out, before Mark stuck out the next 3 batters). Jack's exhausted and he can't wait to just pass out on his bed. What an exciting life he has.
"Hey, Jacko!" Sawyer says as they're getting dressed, and of course he's still traipsing around the locker room in his towel when everyone is at least decent. "Some of the guys are going out for a drink, wanna come?"
Jack doesn't want to go, he's tired as fuck.
"I don't know, I think I'm going to turn in," he says.
"What's the matter, old man, you don't remember how to have fun?" Sawyer teases.
It's true that Jack's one of the oldest players in the team and he sees a couple of younglings smile knowingly. Add that to Sawyer's smirk - who's not that much younger than him, thank you very much - and for some reason it makes Jack agree.
"Sure I do. I'll go." For one, maybe two drinks tops he tells himself.
The smile Sawyer gives him is almost worth it.
"Attaboy. I'll be ready in sec."
Ready means faded blue jeans that seem to be painted on and a black shirt that's of course not buttoned all the way up. Jack feels really overdressed in his suit, even if it's Sawyer who's not respecting the dress code; Jack shouldn't feel like he's the one at fault.
The bar is more of a dance club, and they end up being a little group, with Boone, Charlie, Jin, Steve and a couple of others. Before he knows it, Jack realizes he's actually enjoying himself. The music is too loud, but the Vodka does down smoothly. Jack's not quite sure how it happened, but he now has a pretty little blond in his lap telling him all the ways he's awesome. She's funny, though, and Jack laughs and starts to relax. This he knows how to deal with. She might even be interesting enough for more than a talk, so he buys her a drink and decides to go with the flow. He doesn't sleep around much, but he's single and definitely not a monk.
The lights are pulsing, making the silhouettes of the dancers on the dance floor sort of mesh together as they writhe and undulate. Jack's glancing there from time to time, since it's jam packed with pretty people and it makes for good entertainment. Then he catches the real show: Sawyer has found himself a pretty brunette who has some quite spectacular moves. Sawyer's not doing much, but that's not a problem since she's pretty much using him as a stripper pole and enjoying herself immensely. Sawyer's totally into it, or Jack thinks so until he looks up and locks eyes with Jack from across the room.
Sawyer smirks, raising his eyebrows in a "pretty hot huh?" question.
Jack's pretty good at eyebrow communication by now. He counters with a "not bad" when for real he thinks "hot like burning".
From then on, Sawyer doesn't turn his attention back to the lithe and bendy brunette, at least not more than he has to, and keeps looking at Jack all the time. That, combined with the little blond and curvy person on Jack's own lap - who's currently nosing at his neck - makes some signals get crossed. She puts her hand on Jack's shoulder, then Sawyer does the same on his dance partner, and it's as if Jack's brain switches a little hand for a big broad one. It's making Jack dizzy with want, and unfortunately it's not for the sanest option who smells of vanilla and who has painted coral lips. Jack needs to concentrate, and for a while he stops looking at the dance floor, trying to be a gentleman and have some sort of shouted conversation with the girl (she's a teacher, nice). When he breaks and looks back towards the dance floor after all, drawn to it like a magnet, Sawyer and the hot brunette are nowhere to be seen.
It drives Jack nuts. It's not even a conscious decision but he's standing up, practically having thrown Mandy - Mindy? - to the floor in the process without even realizing it. She looks a bit shocked.
"Sorry, sorry, I just really have to go," Jack says, gesturing to where he thinks the bathrooms might be, "I'll be right back."
"Okay. Later." Mindy smiles as if it's nothing, batting her eyelashes, and Jack thinks that he'd have fallen for that so hard a couple of years ago, although it doesn't quite cut it for him now.
He goes towards the bathroom, thankfully in the direction he thought, because it's the only sane thing to do now that he's up. The corridor is dimly lit and he has to go down a flight of stairs to get there. Jack wonders if he's going to stumble on Sawyer and the girl. Maybe she's on her knees for him and... Jack has to shake his head to get rid of the images and he tries to beat some sense into himself.
There's no one in the actual bathroom when he gets there and Jack splashes some water on his face. He's straightening up, patting his face dry with a paper towel when Jack feels a presence behind him and there's a purr in his ear.
"She got you that hot, Slim?"
Jack manages not to react too much, even if his heart is beating wildly and his dick is definitely stirring in interest. He opens his eyes and meets Sawyer's in the mirror, who's assessing him, always calculating. Jack's tired of that game and if something's going to happen between them, it might at well start tonight. Jack will deal with the potential catastrophic consequences whenever they arise. Or freak out in the morning, one or the other.
"She's not the problem," Jack says, tilting his chin up, and he's proud that his voice doesn't waver.
Sawyer's eyebrows rise and the dimples get deeper.
"But you admit you have a problem."
"I sure do," Jack says, not backing off for once, which pleases Sawyer.
He's probably testing Jack's resolve, judging how much he can push. Sawyer then steps closer into Jack's personal space, which leaves him practically plastered against Jack's back, now. The contact is electric and it makes things almost short in Jack's head.
"And what would it be, Jacko?" Sawyer asks.
"You're driving me nuts, that's my problem," Jack confesses. "Completely wacko."
Sawyer grins as if it's the best compliment ever. Jack's pretty sure that the only thing Sawyer has a problem with is indifference: hate him, love him, but pay attention to him. Through the mirror Jack sees that Sawyer's raising an arm, but without even knowing what the intention is he steps sideways.
"No." It's not meant as a rejection but hurt and anger briefly flash on Sawyer's face, before it's covered by a smirk. "Not here," Jack adds, to be clear.
Sexual orientation seems to be one of the last taboos in baseball. A couple of players are out of the closet, but they still have to live with years of conditioned jock mentalities. No one dares to say it, but being gay or bi is still close to a career killer. As if to prove Jack's point that this dance club is overcrowded and unsafe for any kind of contact, Charlie comes in, stumbling a bit.
"There you are! The girls are starting to feel neglected up there!" Charlie says, before making a bee line for the urinals. "It's practically pout central since you two disappeared."
Sawyer shrugs.
"I don't see the problem," he says, winking at Charlie. "They've got you to console them, Charlie boy!"
"True, true. They should be more appreciative," Charlie says with a smirk. "You guys coming back up?"
Jack throws the paper towels in the garbage can, shrugs.
"Not me. I'm beat. See you tomorrow Charlie," Jack says.
Bolder than he's been up until now, Jack casually slides a hand, for a second, on Sawyer's lower back as he goes for the door.
"Try not to wake me when you come in," Jack adds, fingers sort of tingling at the brief contact. He'd appreciate not feeling like a fourteen year old who accidentally-on-purpose touched his big crush, though.
"Sure thing, boss," Sawyer drawls, and the sexy dimples are back in full force.
There's a door right up the stairs that leads to the back alley where a gaggle of people are smoking, so Jack would not even have to go back into the club and make lame excuses to get away. It's not nice for whatever her name is, though, so Jack takes a deep breath and goes back to their table just long enough to bid his adieus. Pretty blond is now cozy next to Boone, which eases Jack's guilt immediately; two minutes later, he's out of the club. It's in a busy part of the city, as far as nightlife goes, so it's easy to flag down a cab that brings him back to the hotel in ten minutes. It's there that the real jitters take hold of Jack, because it's only a matter of time before Sawyer comes back, too, and he's not quite sure he's ready for it all. He wants it, though, wants it so bad.
He can't just sit on the bed and wait, so Jack decides to take a shower, which helps relax his upper back a little. Just thinking of what is to come is enough to make him hard and Jack decides to take the edge off, his hand slick with soap. Images of Sawyer and how he'd be if he was here now, wet and soapy too, are easy to conjure courtesy of the show the whole team gets after every game in the clubhouse. It's over embarrassingly fast, as Jack shoots his load on the shower tiles, panting and knees about to buckle. Jerking off was probably a good idea if he wants to keep a certain amount of dignity on performance, if they get to sex tonight. They better get to sex tonight.
When Jack finally closes the water, he strains to hear if Sawyer is in the room yet. Probably not, as Jack supposes that Sawyer would have came in the bathroom without even thinking about it twice. But no, there's no sound, no TV, so Jack brushes his teeth, then decides to put on pajama pants and a t-shirt. He's just finished pulling the t-shirt down when the door opens, which makes Jack jump around in surprise. Shit. Sawyer, leaning on the door he just closed, is looking at Jack with a little head tilt, as if curious: how it will play out, who will move first.
"Hey," Jack says lamely, and it almost gets out as a squeak. Dammit.
"Hey yourself," Sawyer counters, now with a slow spreading smile. "Getting ready for bed?"
And wow, he sure can make the most innocent statement sound depraved. Jack doesn't know what to do with his hands, so he puts them on his hips and shrugs.
"Yes."
"Need any help?"
Jack looks at the bed, it's just there behind him, even if he knows he's stalling. He turns back and is about to say "maybe" but the word dies on his lips when he sees that Sawyer's moving towards him now, although prowling would be more accurate. It's sexy as hell and Jack's dick makes a valiant effort to jump right back in the game. Might even be succeeding. Sawyer stops, though, but no more than a foot away, Even if Jack wants to close the distance between them, he resists.
He's being scrutinized intently, evaluated again.
"If we do this, will you freak out on me afterwards?" Sawyer asks.
It's a valid question, but Jack thinks his freaking out has been done preemptively.
"Would it stop you if I said yes?"
At that, Sawyer surprisingly takes half a step back, face closing off.
"If you don't want..." I won't force myself on you is clear even if unsaid. "We have to work together."
"That's why I usually don't fuck teammates," Jack agrees.
For a second, they just stare at one another. This is such a bad idea, and they both know it. On the other hand... Jack looks Sawyer over and as bad ideas go, he's had worse. To make it clear that he does indeed want to go there, Jack finally takes the next step forward, reaches out to hook a couple of fingers in the belt-loop of those maddening jeans and tugs forward.
"Usually," he repeats.
It's all the permission Sawyer needed, because he comes willingly, then frames Jack's face with his hands and kisses him. Jack's a bit surprised that there are no more goading or smartass remarks, only a kiss that rapidly goes deep and thorough. Once in movement, Sawyer pushes Jack backward until he hits the bed. Jack half expects being pushed on it, but Sawyer lets him scramble on backwards, following right after, and Jack ends up lying down with Sawyer on all fours right over him, looking at him so intently it gives him shivers.
"You drive me nuts, too," Sawyer declares and Jack has to laugh at that.
"I drive you nuts?" Jack says, trying to get his sniggering under control. That's rich, since there's no one more infuriating than Sawyer, who smiles back, sly and dangerous.
"Oh yeah."
Jack reaches up and starts undoing those little nacre buttons, opening the black cotton shirt that is as soft as silk. He stumbles a bit in his haste, which makes Sawyer huff and straighten up, undoes a couple of buttons himself, then grabs the back of his collar and pulls it off. All of that golden skin again, and Jack roves his hands on Sawyer's smooth chest, finally touching what he's been taunted with for so long. It's possibly even better because of the build up and Jack is starving for it, wants more, and more implies getting rid of those pants, too.
He makes work of the belt pretty easily, but the jeans are so tight that Sawyer's hard on is right there as if in plain sight and Jack rubs his knuckles on it before undoing the button fly. It makes Sawyer hiss, then he falls down on Jack to kiss him stupid once more; Jack's hands are diverted to the silky strands of Sawyer's hair to hold him in place. Sawyer tries to lowers his pants, but after several seconds of struggling he stops with a frustrated moan, then flips on his back next to Jack to shimmy out of them properly. It makes Jack laugh as he helps with the shoes and socks. Then Sawyer is satisfyingly naked at last, so frigging gorgeous, spread on the bed without any self-consciousness, and Jack's the one looming above. Sawyer takes a handful of Jacks t-shirt and tugs.
"Off already," he says, and it sounds like an order.
Jack pulls it over his head and Sawyer's eyes get even more heated as he glides his hands down Jack's torso lightly, nails barely scratching but enough to make trails of heat in their wake. Once he reaches the elastic of the pajamas, Sawyer makes it snap against Jack's belly.
"That too. C'mon."
Jack does so but as soon as the pajamas join the rest of their clothes by the side of the bed, he bends down to kiss Sawyer again. He decides that what would improve this night ten folds would be to give Sawyer a blowjob. He kisses his way down, a bit more hurriedly that he normally would do it, thinking that slow will have to be for another time. Jack's pretty sure there will be another time, depending how this goes, and he's determined to make it good. Soon enough, he's sucking over Sawyer's hipbone, eyeing his hard on that's curving towards his belly button, flushed and already showing beads of precome. Sawyer's making growls and moans of encouragement, a hand kneading Jack's shoulder repetitively and of course he can't shut up.
"Yeah, c'mon, c'mon, do it. Jesus fuck, just suck me already," Sawyer urges.
Somehow, Sawyer's almost desperation makes Jack feel all the more powerful and it's his turn to smirk. He doesn't even deign to reply, though, and instead of teasing he just sucks Sawyer in, taking him as deep as he can on a first try which makes Sawyer shout and grip Jack's arm tightly.
Alternating between sucking and licking, Jack learns quite easily what Sawyer likes, especially since he's pretty vocal about what he wants and how to do it. One of the strongest reactions Jack gets is when the tip of his finger brushes Sawyer's hole, making him almost arch off the bed. Jack's definitely okay with that development, and suddenly all he wants is to fuck Sawyer. He pulls off Sawyer's prick with a soft drag of teeth, which gives surprisingly positive results.
"I'm gonna fuck you through the mattress, just so you know," Jack says, and by the way Sawyer's dick twitches in his hand and the moan Sawyer makes it's a plan that won't be vetoed.
Leaving Sawyer panting on the bed, Jack goes to rummage through his suitcase and comes back with condoms and lube, setting them on the bed while Sawyer observes him with eyes half mast, more black than blue, flushed and gorgeous.
"You're such a control freak," Sawyer says.
"And you get off on it," Jack counters, which is met with a grin and no denial.
Jack settles down between Sawyer's shamelessly opened thighs and gets right back to business, blowing Sawyer with all he's got while Sawyer skids his fingers in Jack's buzz-cut, though he's not pushing him down. When Jack feels Sawyer's pretty gone on it, barely containing how he moves his hips, Jack lubes his fingers - stumbling a bit one handed - and Sawyer almost bucks him off as his slicked fingers start to circle with intent.
"Fuck, yeah, God..." Sawyer all but whines, trying to shove down even if Jack's not even in yet.
The moment Jack finally does push a finger in Sawyer, Sawyer curses and urges him for more already, which Jack does, two digits now. He stretches and scissors, making sure to graze Sawyer's prostate which elicits porn star moans again and again. Sawyer's a pushy bottom, asking for more, faster, harder, and for Jack to fuck him already. When Jack decides that he's ready, and not before, he pulls of Sawyer's cock and straightens up.
"There's no hurry..." Jack says, which is met with bewilderment.
"What? Hell yeah, there is. I've wanted this for months! Months!" Sawyer says, voice laced with urgency.
Laughing a little, Jack shakes his head as he rolls a condom on and slicks himself.
"Not used to be denied, are you?" Jack says.
It makes Sawyer smirk.
"Nope. But now I want you real bad."
It figures that not a lot of people have been hard to get for that infuriating man, or if there was, he could turn around and have his pick of anyone else. It makes Jack wonder if tonight is just Sawyer finally getting what he's been chasing, and if tomorrow he'll try to hunt someone else. Frankly, Jack's not sure if it's not the same for him. Is he just trying to get Sawyer out of his system? Will one fuck be enough? He doubts it very much. And as Sawyer said earlier, they'll have to work together after this and it better not degenerate. It's way too late to have second thoughts, though, now that he's pushing into Sawyer and being gripped by tight heat. Jack manages to go slowly even if Sawyer goads him into just moving already. Once completely sheathed, Jack lowers himself to brush their chests together and kisses Sawyer hard, ending the kiss with a sharp bite to his lower lip. Sawyer's writhing under him, trying to move and clenching his internal muscles to grip Jack's cock.
"C'mon, c'mon, what are you waiting for?" Sawyer says, urgent. "Fuck me. Now."
Jack slowly pulls away, reveling in the sensation then pushes back in hard, which makes Sawyer keen and arch against him.
"Yeah, yeah, that's it."
Thus encouraged, Jack does it again, slow then hard. It's good and he continues with that rhythm, even slowing down when Sawyer protests that it's not enough. Jack does get off on having a bit of control over this, at last, while Sawyer can only take it even with the attempts to boss him around.
"Shut up, Sawyer," Jack says, but it's only for show because he loves that Sawyer's feisty.
Sawyer has a short and delighted laugh as that.
"Oh, you're definitely getting off too much on this control thing," he declares, eyes twinkling. "You're so going to pay when I screw you."
The promise implied that it's not a one off is reassuring in itself, but Jack shakes his head.
"Sorry, top only," Jack says. He hopes it's not a deal breaker, but that's the way things are and it's better to be upfront.
"I can live with that," Sawyer says, coinciding with a particularly hard snap of Jack's hips that makes him groan. "I can live with that very well."
Lowering his head, Jack mouths at Sawyer's neck then bites him hard, which makes Sawyer seize up around his dick with a growl.
"Good," Jack says.
"Yeah," Sawyer says, going pliant below him. "Whatever you want."
It makes Jack's heart skip a beat.
"You've got to be sure about that," Jack says, still thrusting into Sawyer excruciatingly slowly, although he feels his orgasm build steadily and his body asks for more.
"I'm sure, I'm sure, c'mon, fuck me like you mean it, Jackass."
Only Sawyer would insult a man balls deep in his ass, that's pretty sure. Jack braces himself on his elbows and picks up the pace, still going hard but faster now. He kisses Sawyer some more so he shuts up, and only breaks it off when it gets too hard to fuck, breathe and kiss at the same time, having to let go of one. Sawyer's flushed and disheveled, golden hair messy and blue-green eyes half closed as he observes Jack, who can't believe he finally has this. He's seen lots of pretty people, known several and even fucked a few over the years, but there's something about Sawyer's wild beauty that just gets to him on a visceral level.
He doesn't wait to be ordered into more and harder and just does it, pounding into Sawyer now in a way that makes Sawyer groan and arch against him. It's pretty evident he's close, and Jack thanks god that he jacked off earlier or he'd never have made it to this point otherwise. Jack's close to coming himself and he snakes a hand down to grip Sawyer's cock, and starts to strip him, smearing the wetness of his precome around until the slide is slick and wet. Jack lowers his mouth to Sawyer's ear.
"Let go for me, Sawyer, come on," Jack says.
"Fuck!" Sawyer says, bucking below him. After a couple more thrusts, Jack can feel him start to shake and come, which seems to go on and on and is enough to push Jack over the edge himself. The hit of pleasure is intense, making everything else fade out as it zings through Jack's system.
There must be a couple of seconds he's missing, because Jack realizes he crashed down on Sawyer, face tucked in the crook of his neck while he pants to catch his breath. Sawyer's breathing hard, too, hands resting on Jack's hips but otherwise still and silent. Then, to Jack's surprise, Sawyer turns his head and kisses Jack's temple gently. In answer, it's possible that Jack awkwardly tightens his arms in sort of a hug that lasts one point three seconds or so. Jack gives himself five more breaths in this surprisingly gentle afterglow, and then carefully pulls out while rolling onto Sawyer's side, then his back. Jack takes off and ties the condom, throws it in the thrash can, and beside him Sawyer does a full body stretch accompanied with a satisfied hum. It makes Jack smile and Sawyer catches it and replies with a playful wink.
"I knew you'd fuck like a champ," Sawyer finally says, voice still lower than usual and Jack should not feel this proud at a callous praise. He rolls his eyes, trying to cover his pleasure.
"Shut up."
Sawyer laughs and rolls off the bed with grace and goes to the bathroom where he plays with water, probably cleaning up. It's a good idea, one Jack should follow. Maybe Jack closed his eyes for a second because he's surprised when a damp washcloth lands on his chest. His jump makes Sawyer laugh around his toothbrush and while he goes back in the bathroom, Jack takes care of the worst of the mess on his dick and chest, before dropping the washcloth on the floor. Jack wrestles with the sheets and covers until he's comfortable and decides that he's too mellow on his post orgasm haze to worry about what comes next.
He's half way to sleep when Sawyer comes back in the room, and it takes him a second to register the dip in his bed as Sawyer climbs and plasters himself against Jack's back. Jack's surprised that Sawyer wants to sleep in the same bed already, but not against the cuddling at all, so he lets Sawyer get away with it without a comment. Of course he does. He's got a feeling that he'll let Sawyer get away with a lot of things from now on.
"'Night, Jack," Sawyer says and Jack smiles.
"Wow. My real name. I'm honored," Jack says, just to tease him. But it's probably the first time he hears it from Sawyer.
"Yeah, yeah," Sawyer grumbles. Then, as an afterthought, "asshole."
Jack laughs and Sawyer kinds of half hugs him as he gets comfortable, if comfortable means turning into a human octopus.
"I like you, too," Jack says.
And the worst thing is that he does. Maybe a whole lot.
"Told you so," Sawyer sing songs and Jack can't help but giggle.
"Yeah. I know."
As curve balls goes, crossing paths with Sawyer is probably one the best life has thrown at him.
He'll try hard not to drop it.
The End
As said in the title/header, this is the prequel to series in the same alternate universe that I started a long time ago. If you are interested, the first chapter of the series (there are 5 at the moment) can be found here
When we discussed what she'd like, she expressed only one request: that it features Jack or Foxy, maybe a little plot but porn would be good. Who could blame her? lol!
I tried different things to get there, actual Lost fic as much on the Island and the alt universe, but I could not get the stories to cooperate. But then I thought... why not go AU? And if you know J at all, the gamble that revisiting my baseball AU would probably be ok with her seemed pretty safe.
You were very very patient with me honey, as I wrote other stuff when this was stuck. You're one awesome lady and a wonderful friend. I just hope you enjoy it ♥
Title: This Is How It Starts (prequel to Up and Away)
Fandom: This is a completely alternate Lost universe where the Lost characters are baseball player. This chapter is Lost only, it becomes a crossover with SPN in later chapters.
Featuring : Jack/Sawyer, Christian, Charlie, etc. Mention of Sawyer/OFCs
Rating: NC17
Word count: around 8,200
Disclaimer: I’m just playing with the boys, I only own them in my dreams and get no profit out of it all (it went to charity!). I don't think there's a need to warn for anything.
Notes: Thanks to jaydblu , who paid actual money for this, and to siluria who just keeps on giving as a beta ♥
Summary: "Jack! There you are," Christian says. "I'm not sure if you know each other. Our new relief all star, Sawyer Ford. Sawyer, my son Jack, catcher."
"Baseball is a game where a curve is an optical illusion, a screwball can be a pitch or a person, stealing is legal and you can spit anywhere you like except in the umpire's eye or on the ball."
Jim Murray (1919 - 1998), American Sports Writer, winner of a Pulitzer Prize.
This Is How It Starts (prequel to Up and Away)
Sometimes, Jack thinks that he's way too old for this shit. He looks at the kids running around, hitting balls and pitching hard and wonders when he started feeling like he soon won't be able to follow. Spring training brings out his insecurities; it always has even in the best years of his career. What if he gets hurt? If there's a better/younger/faster catcher? Jack supposes that the mere infants running around on the diamond must be in equal parts terrified and elated to be there. At least Jack remembers his first years that way.
As a veteran, Jack needs set the example and tries to project as much confidence as he can. He's checking out some potential young talent for the relief pitching staff when Charlie leans on the cage beside him and they bump fist amicably.
"So, do you think he'll deign to show up today?" Charlie asks, chewing a bit too hard on his gum before blowing an enormous bubble.
They're waiting for the golden boy's appearance, James "Sawyer" Ford, whom they got in the off season for two prospects Jack was counting on. He was not happy with the decision, especially since he heard a lot about the guy's temper and how he's hell to work with.
"Ford's already fined for not turning up yesterday. Who knows," Jack says but he doesn't really care.
But low and behold, there's some movement near the dugout, journalists and onlookers flock, and Coach Sheppard walks on the field with his new protégé. Sawyer's in uniform, too, and he's laughing with the Coach. Jack wonders cynically if it's been timed for the cameras. That's another thing he's heard about Sawyer: how much of an attention whore he is. They've never been in the same league and even in inter-league games they never faced each other; all that Jack has are rumors and second hand gossip. The stories all converge, though, so there are high chances that they're true.
As much as Jack would like to do what he's paid to do and, if he's got time, to re-connect with his teammates, he knows that meeting the new franchise maker is expected; he turns around and leans against the cage as his father and Ford slowly make their way towards him.
"Jack! There you are," Christian says. "I'm not sure if you know each other. Our new relief all star, Sawyer Ford. Sawyer, my son Jack, catcher. And our second baseman, Charlie Pace"
"Pleased to meet you," Jack says amiably and shakes Sawyer's hand. Big hands, solid grip, then it's Charlie's turn, who babbles something about being a fan.
A smile makes Sawyer's mouth curl up and dimples show, a bit more genuine now. The guy is ridiculously good looking, and even if Jack knew that in some abstract I've-seen-him-on-TV-and-in-magazines way, up close it's undeniable.
"Definitely my pleasure," Sawyer replies to Jack in particular, accent thick and drawled.
The pleasantry is joined by a once over, but if it's trying to assess Jack as a potential ally or checking him out, that’s up in the air. Sawyer would not blatantly flirt with Jack on a first meeting, in front of the coach - his father - and with the press hovering, right? And he doesn't know Jack is bi, so why would he? On the other hand, there's the saying about hiding in plain sight so Jack can't be sure he's not flirting. Jack feels his face heat and hopes he's not flushing while Sawyer's blue eyes twinkle, amused. Satisfied in having made his little impression on Jack, Sawyer strolls onto the field, following Charlie who offered to introduce him to the rest of the team. Jack looks on as he goes, noting the swagger, but Christian brings him back to reality rather suddenly.
"I'm under the impression he's going to be a handful," Christian says, following Sawyer with his eyes too. Using "impression" is just to be polite, they both know he will be. "You'll catch for him, he'd be too much to handle for Gary."
"Yes, Sir," Jack says, torn between excitement and annoyance. As if he needs to be in charge to reign in a prissy prima donna. A damn pretty prissy prima donna, though, Jack has to admit. If being gorgeous is going to make things harder or easier for Jack, that’s up in the air at this point too.
***
Camp ends and the real season begins with a twenty day trip on the road. Their new stadium's construction isn't finished since a series of bad luck delayed the grand opening for a couple of weeks and they have to make do. Christian has decided that the baby sitting duty of Sawyer includes rooming with the guy, which is about to drive Jack out of his mind. Why? Because Sawyer seems totally unable to keep clothes on, that's why. As soon as he makes it to their room, Sawyer hops in the shower and the shirt almost never makes it back on, even if he's lounging in bed reading a paperback. Sawyer loves reading, which is a surprise. Not that Jack had thought James was stupid, but he sure downplayed how smart he was most of the time. Under the charm lays a very sharp intelligence, and without realizing it at first, Jack find himself more and more fascinated. On top of that, keeping his eyes adverted from the skin on display is proving to be very hard.
Getting Jack flustered seems to be a big game for Sawyer, though, because he scores with the ladies as much as he wants. He comes back to their room reeking of sex and perfume regularly, before once again jumping in the shower. Sawyer might flirt non-stop with anything with a pulse, but he only seems to hit it off with women. More the pity, because Jack finds himself being more and more interested to tap that, pretty badly too. He bottles it all up and tries to act as normal as possible around Sawyer and hopes his little crush will go away soon.
As for their relationship on the field? It's not so great. Sawyer doesn't trust his calls and more than half the time throws whatever the fuck he wants, aka his fastball. Jack is pretty pissed at him, especially since he knows that Christian is bound to find out soon enough. He's made off-hands remarks to Jack, in fact, and nothing Christian says is casual; Jack's about to get shit very soon. They're lucky though, because the fucker is so talented that even Sawyer's bad ideas result in more strikeouts than home runs. Jack channels all of his frustration on hitting the ball and his batting average thanks him. At least, there's a good side to this situation.
Jack's had a particularly bad night catching wise where Sawyer pissed him off at least one time each inning he pitched after coming in early in the fourth to replace Paolo (he might have pulled something, that's bad news). On the other hand, Jack hit a home run and a double, with five RBIs. None the less, he's absolutely fuming in the locker room after the game while everyone is celebrating their win.
"Cheer up, emo boy!" Sawyer says as Jack puts on his coat. He's as easygoing as ever, as if there's absolutely nothing to be mad about and Jack just can't take it anymore.
"Everything's a game for you, isn't it?" Jack hisses, getting way more into Sawyer's space that he usually allows himself. "One day, it's going to blow up in your face."
Sawyer has the galls to look slightly taken aback at Jack's intensity, taking a step back; it figures that only direct aggression works on that man.
"Whoa," Sawyer says as he raises placating hands. "Careful, you're gonna burst something."
Jack grits his teeth, tempted to punch Sawyer in the face but they're in the middle of the locker room and already a couple of people are looking over with interest. There's nothing more gossipy than a sports locker, and Jack knows he's got to keep up a certain facade or rumors will be flying left and right in no time.
"I'm out of here," Jack says. "You're not worth the hassle, jerk."
Not even waiting to see if the words have any kind of effect on Sawyer, Jack turns around and leaves, aiming for their hotel's bar. He needs a stiff one, and bad.
**
One drink turns in to two and then eight. By the time Jack considers he's mellowed enough to go back to the room without killing Sawyer (if he's even there), he's slightly over tipsy and not far from smashed. He shouldn't have drunk so fast. And maybe could have eaten something more than peanuts.
Thankfully, no fans came to try and talk to him after the third drink - being on the road has some advantages - and Jack manages to get to the room without embarrassing himself or the team. The damn keycard is not working right, though, because it takes about five times, flipping it twice, before it finally works. Jack over balances when he gets in while pushing the door, and he's surprised that a light's still on; Sawyer's sitting on his bed and watching TV. Shit. Jack had kind of hoped he'd be out screwing some groupie while Jack passed out.
Jack decides to play it as if Sawyer's invisible because he's still mad, dammit. He pulls his coat off, tries to hang it but it falls on the floor. Jack glares at it but doesn't even try to get it. Fucking coat.
"You okay, there, champ?" Sawyer asks.
Following his plan not to even acknowledging the man, Jack leaves the coat on the floor and goes in the bathroom, locking the door. It takes a bit more time than usual, and more caution, but Jack finally gets ready for bed. He's not stupid, so he downs three full glasses of water with several Advil gel caps, hoping it will be enough to take the edge off the probable hangover waiting for him tomorrow. He keeps his undershirt and boxers and decides that's how he's going to bed, throwing the rest of his clothes in the tub.
When he gets back in the room, the TV is still on: Sawyer sure doesn't want to let him skulk to his bed in peace. Jack's still going to try, though, and manages not to stumble as he walks to his bed. Once flat on his back, the room spins a bit, but it should be okay. Being sick would not be cool at all. A little collaboration to avoid any or all confrontation would have been appreciated, but no, it's too much to ask as Sawyer finally addresses him.
"You're not talking to me anymore, is that it?"
Jack thinks the most appropriate answer is to not talk at all.
"Seriously?" Sawyer asks.
Saying something would defeat the whole purpose of not talking, so Jack just turns on his side, back to Sawyer.
"Fine, be like that, Jackass," Sawyer says.
At least he shuts off the TV and Jack's on the fast track to sleep. Thank god for small favors.
**
The next morning is a whole other kind of hell though. It seems that the preemptive Advils and water weren't enough, and just opening his eyes make Jack's head want to split in two. The obvious solution is to hide under his pillow. There's a chuckle from somewhere in the room and Jack remembers whose fault this is so he gives a one finger salute to the room in general, aiming towards the direction he thinks Sawyer might be. There is more laughing and the door opens and closes, then nothing. After a couple of minutes of slow breathing, Jack risks a peek out, and sees that he's alone, which is good.
As soon as he thinks he can stand up and not keel over, Jack makes it to the bathroom to relieve himself and takes three more Advils, before pathetically going back to bed. Jack wants to shower, but he'll give the pills a bit more time to do their job, first.
He must have dozed off for a couple of minutes and is woken again by the door. He still has his head under his pillow, but it's better now, the hammering has gone down a tiny bit. Enough that he manages to sense when Sawyer gets near, and he hears a noise when something is deposited on the nightstand.
"C'mon, Jacko, drink this," Sawyer says.
Suspicious, Jack lifts a corner of his pillow and steals a peek. A glass, with what seems like tomato juice. Just thinking about it makes Jack's stomach twist in a bad way.
"Ugh, no. Leave me alone," Jack says.
"Oh, he talks! It's a secret recipe, you'll feel better after. I brought you crackers, too."
It's like Sawyer's speaking Chinese, because it doesn't make any sense. Jack emerges from under the pillow and squints at Sawyer.
"You're being nice, what the fuck?" he accuses.
Sawyer scoffs.
"I can be nice!"
It's Jack's turn to make a disbelieving sound.
"No, you don't do nice. There's something behind this," Jack says.
He's got problems to think straight and this conversation is mightily inconvenient. Jack hides his eyes under his elbow.
"What? Okay, so I do have an ulterior motive. I'm tired of your sulking," Sawyer says.
"Oh, that's so mature," Jack says.
"That's rich, coming from you."
"Can you just... go?" Jack says. And because he's not below begging, at this point, he adds, "Please?"
There's a moment of blessed silence. Maybe, just maybe, he'll get lucky.
"It's my room too, you know," Sawyer declares and nope, not in luck today it seems.
After that there's a silence of a couple of minutes. Jack is ready to plead again for Sawyer to go, because he just doesn't want to deal with the man, when Sawyer speaks first.
"I thought it was going fine," he grumbles.
For once, Sawyer sounds serious. Jack has no idea what he's talking about.
"What was going fine?"
There's a big sigh.
"I piss you off a little, you get riled up, hit the ball, we win. Everyone's happy," Sawyer says.
He can't be serious.
"You were refusing my calls on purpose, so I'd get pissed off?" Jack all but squeaks.
"You hit better when motivated," Sawyers says and he's starting to sound like a smartass again.
Jesus fucking Christ. Jack can't believe the nerves on the guy.
"I don't need your fucked up motivation techniques, jeez. And you're lucky we haven't faced a decent team yet, they'd light you up like Times Square."
"They can't hit me," Sawyer says.
There's so much smugness in the statement, Jack can't help but snort.
"Oh, they will. I hate you so much," Jack says, heartfelt. This, catching and rooming with Sawyer is definitely payback for something bad Jack did. Karma, whatever. He most probably pissed off his dad somewhere along the ride.
"Nah you don't," Sawyer says, casual. So fucking sure of himself.
Jack takes his arm off his face and turns his head to glare at Sawyer, who's sitting on his bed and looking back at him.
"I do, I really do," and he means it so much.
Sawyer has the nerves to show dimples at that, and Jack all but flails. Arrogance should not be so attractive.
"I think you like me," Sawyer says. "I think you like me a lot."
"No, I don't," Jack says, clenching his jaw.
"You might not enjoy the fact that you like me, but you do."
"I do not. I couldn't care less about you."
Not listening to a word Jack says, Sawyer smiles some more. This time it looks way too predatory. Shit.
"I can prove it," Sawyer says.
"God, just go away," Jack all but pleads. His head is hurting, his stomach is shot to hell and he doesn't have any energy for a stupid dare.
For one second, it seems like he's finally catching a break, but to Jack's dismay, Sawyer just gets up from his bed to sit on Jack's.
"You don't really want me to go," Sawyer says.
But Jack does, so much.
"I really really do, Sawyer."
"Nah," Sawyer says, then puts a hand on Jack's shin and trail it all the way up to his hip. Over the cover, granted, but it's clear enough and it makes Jack stop breathing, shocked. What the hell?
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Jack all but squeaks again. The squeaking has got to stop. He doesn't shake him off, though.
"Feeling you up?" Sawyer says, with a slow smile.
"Stop it."
Even to Jack's ear, it's weak at best. He's more than glad to be feeling really crappy and not tenting the covers, although it's only a matter of time if Sawyer goes on.
Sawyer's thumb is making a maddening circle motion on the covers over Jack's hip, and it takes everything Jack's got not to focus on that alone.
"Okay," Sawyer says, before getting up. "But if you change your mind..."
Jack didn't expect Sawyer to back off so easily. He tries to convince himself that the only emotion he feels as Sawyer leaves the room right now is relief.
***
Things go on almost as normal after that morning, except that now Sawyer usually listens when Jack calls pitches. Not one hundred percent of the time, but enough so it's noticeable and Jack is pleased. Still, when Sawyer wants to pitch his damn fastball, he does so. It takes a couple of games before Jack realizes it's usually in innings just before Jack is due at bat. Still trying to keep Jack's average up, then, and the worst thing is that it works. Jack's having his best stats in the last five years.
Another thing that changes is that Sawyer's not even being subtle anymore about the way he's hitting on Jack. It's nothing that could get people to talk, as baseball players go. Mostly it's frequent slaps on the ass and passing a little too close as often as he can get away with, but the intent is there. Often Jack can feel Sawyer's eyes on him, too. There are dimples and insults, the former as much as the latter, and slowly Jack's resolve to stay clear from trouble starts to waver.
He's tempted. So very tempted. He's wanted Sawyer since the first time he laid eyes on him at spring training, after all. It doesn't help that Jack knows it would be welcome. Even now that he knows Sawyer's bisexual too, Jack never sees Sawyer hit on another guy and the steady string of groupies is still there, although the frequency has lowered. If Jack's not mistaken, the girls are being used as peons by Sawyer, who hits on them and then checks out the effect it has on Jack.
Jack doesn't have someone in his life right now, so theoretically he could go for it. On the other hand, he's always been of the opinion that it's better to avoid flings with teammates, since it either ends badly or someone gets traded. Heartbreak ensues, yadda yadda: been there, done that. Jack is also conscious of his father's eyes on him, assessing and waiting for him to make a mistake that could be thrown back in his face. The way Sawyer acts suggests that his target being the coach's son is a bonus for him, a special thrill. It's one of the reasons why Jack still resists.
One thing's for sure: Sawyer's persistent. He doesn't get tired, even after several weeks of this little game, as if he's sure he'll get what he wants eventually. Jack muses that he most probably always had got what he wanted, so it's hard to blame him. Jack's not playing hard to get, but it gives the same results, fueling even more advances from Sawyer. He does let Jack have his space though, at least in the room they share on the road, never crossing a line that would make it uncomfortable enough to be awkward. The object of lust of the whole town wants Jack, and he's got to admit that it's good for the ego.
Slowly, Jack's defenses crumble, especially by the little touches here and there. Taken individually they don't look premeditated but they can't all be accidents. Pats of congratulations after crossing the plate or at the end of a game that linger a bit too long, corridors that just happen to be crowded as they go through so they brush chest to chest, 'hey buddy!' claps on the shoulder, 'did you see that?' nudges with a knee, 'whatcha doing?' shoulder bumps... It. Doesn't. Stop. The worst thing is that Jack realizes that he's started touching back. It's like he's been conditioned and he's nudging or bumping in return, gives a clap on the back, pokes Sawyer with his glove when they come back from a good inning. Jack's relaxing, finally, and in return Sawyer's mellower, smiles more, and behaves for crying out loud so it would be stupid to stop now.
They've had a good stretch of games played at home, but when they get back on the road Jack and Sawyer start to hang out more outside of the hotel and the field. Sawyer doesn't seem to chase tail as much, or more accurately he turns most of the girls down, but not before dazzling them. Jack watches with fascination as Sawyer lets them hang out to dry but how they still leave with a smile. When they go up to their room, more often than not they'll watch TV a bit and Sawyer deadpans on whatever's playing in a way that makes Jack laugh almost every time. In fact, Sawyer will joke until Jack honest to god giggles - he hates that he even can giggle so much - and then Sawyer will grin back, smug.
Jack realizes that Sawyer's on the fast track to becoming one of his closest friends, even with everything else. He never saw that one coming.
***
The frigging game lasted fourteen innings and almost gave Jack a heart attack before it was finally over (the tying run was on third with no out, before Mark stuck out the next 3 batters). Jack's exhausted and he can't wait to just pass out on his bed. What an exciting life he has.
"Hey, Jacko!" Sawyer says as they're getting dressed, and of course he's still traipsing around the locker room in his towel when everyone is at least decent. "Some of the guys are going out for a drink, wanna come?"
Jack doesn't want to go, he's tired as fuck.
"I don't know, I think I'm going to turn in," he says.
"What's the matter, old man, you don't remember how to have fun?" Sawyer teases.
It's true that Jack's one of the oldest players in the team and he sees a couple of younglings smile knowingly. Add that to Sawyer's smirk - who's not that much younger than him, thank you very much - and for some reason it makes Jack agree.
"Sure I do. I'll go." For one, maybe two drinks tops he tells himself.
The smile Sawyer gives him is almost worth it.
"Attaboy. I'll be ready in sec."
Ready means faded blue jeans that seem to be painted on and a black shirt that's of course not buttoned all the way up. Jack feels really overdressed in his suit, even if it's Sawyer who's not respecting the dress code; Jack shouldn't feel like he's the one at fault.
The bar is more of a dance club, and they end up being a little group, with Boone, Charlie, Jin, Steve and a couple of others. Before he knows it, Jack realizes he's actually enjoying himself. The music is too loud, but the Vodka does down smoothly. Jack's not quite sure how it happened, but he now has a pretty little blond in his lap telling him all the ways he's awesome. She's funny, though, and Jack laughs and starts to relax. This he knows how to deal with. She might even be interesting enough for more than a talk, so he buys her a drink and decides to go with the flow. He doesn't sleep around much, but he's single and definitely not a monk.
The lights are pulsing, making the silhouettes of the dancers on the dance floor sort of mesh together as they writhe and undulate. Jack's glancing there from time to time, since it's jam packed with pretty people and it makes for good entertainment. Then he catches the real show: Sawyer has found himself a pretty brunette who has some quite spectacular moves. Sawyer's not doing much, but that's not a problem since she's pretty much using him as a stripper pole and enjoying herself immensely. Sawyer's totally into it, or Jack thinks so until he looks up and locks eyes with Jack from across the room.
Sawyer smirks, raising his eyebrows in a "pretty hot huh?" question.
Jack's pretty good at eyebrow communication by now. He counters with a "not bad" when for real he thinks "hot like burning".
From then on, Sawyer doesn't turn his attention back to the lithe and bendy brunette, at least not more than he has to, and keeps looking at Jack all the time. That, combined with the little blond and curvy person on Jack's own lap - who's currently nosing at his neck - makes some signals get crossed. She puts her hand on Jack's shoulder, then Sawyer does the same on his dance partner, and it's as if Jack's brain switches a little hand for a big broad one. It's making Jack dizzy with want, and unfortunately it's not for the sanest option who smells of vanilla and who has painted coral lips. Jack needs to concentrate, and for a while he stops looking at the dance floor, trying to be a gentleman and have some sort of shouted conversation with the girl (she's a teacher, nice). When he breaks and looks back towards the dance floor after all, drawn to it like a magnet, Sawyer and the hot brunette are nowhere to be seen.
It drives Jack nuts. It's not even a conscious decision but he's standing up, practically having thrown Mandy - Mindy? - to the floor in the process without even realizing it. She looks a bit shocked.
"Sorry, sorry, I just really have to go," Jack says, gesturing to where he thinks the bathrooms might be, "I'll be right back."
"Okay. Later." Mindy smiles as if it's nothing, batting her eyelashes, and Jack thinks that he'd have fallen for that so hard a couple of years ago, although it doesn't quite cut it for him now.
He goes towards the bathroom, thankfully in the direction he thought, because it's the only sane thing to do now that he's up. The corridor is dimly lit and he has to go down a flight of stairs to get there. Jack wonders if he's going to stumble on Sawyer and the girl. Maybe she's on her knees for him and... Jack has to shake his head to get rid of the images and he tries to beat some sense into himself.
There's no one in the actual bathroom when he gets there and Jack splashes some water on his face. He's straightening up, patting his face dry with a paper towel when Jack feels a presence behind him and there's a purr in his ear.
"She got you that hot, Slim?"
Jack manages not to react too much, even if his heart is beating wildly and his dick is definitely stirring in interest. He opens his eyes and meets Sawyer's in the mirror, who's assessing him, always calculating. Jack's tired of that game and if something's going to happen between them, it might at well start tonight. Jack will deal with the potential catastrophic consequences whenever they arise. Or freak out in the morning, one or the other.
"She's not the problem," Jack says, tilting his chin up, and he's proud that his voice doesn't waver.
Sawyer's eyebrows rise and the dimples get deeper.
"But you admit you have a problem."
"I sure do," Jack says, not backing off for once, which pleases Sawyer.
He's probably testing Jack's resolve, judging how much he can push. Sawyer then steps closer into Jack's personal space, which leaves him practically plastered against Jack's back, now. The contact is electric and it makes things almost short in Jack's head.
"And what would it be, Jacko?" Sawyer asks.
"You're driving me nuts, that's my problem," Jack confesses. "Completely wacko."
Sawyer grins as if it's the best compliment ever. Jack's pretty sure that the only thing Sawyer has a problem with is indifference: hate him, love him, but pay attention to him. Through the mirror Jack sees that Sawyer's raising an arm, but without even knowing what the intention is he steps sideways.
"No." It's not meant as a rejection but hurt and anger briefly flash on Sawyer's face, before it's covered by a smirk. "Not here," Jack adds, to be clear.
Sexual orientation seems to be one of the last taboos in baseball. A couple of players are out of the closet, but they still have to live with years of conditioned jock mentalities. No one dares to say it, but being gay or bi is still close to a career killer. As if to prove Jack's point that this dance club is overcrowded and unsafe for any kind of contact, Charlie comes in, stumbling a bit.
"There you are! The girls are starting to feel neglected up there!" Charlie says, before making a bee line for the urinals. "It's practically pout central since you two disappeared."
Sawyer shrugs.
"I don't see the problem," he says, winking at Charlie. "They've got you to console them, Charlie boy!"
"True, true. They should be more appreciative," Charlie says with a smirk. "You guys coming back up?"
Jack throws the paper towels in the garbage can, shrugs.
"Not me. I'm beat. See you tomorrow Charlie," Jack says.
Bolder than he's been up until now, Jack casually slides a hand, for a second, on Sawyer's lower back as he goes for the door.
"Try not to wake me when you come in," Jack adds, fingers sort of tingling at the brief contact. He'd appreciate not feeling like a fourteen year old who accidentally-on-purpose touched his big crush, though.
"Sure thing, boss," Sawyer drawls, and the sexy dimples are back in full force.
There's a door right up the stairs that leads to the back alley where a gaggle of people are smoking, so Jack would not even have to go back into the club and make lame excuses to get away. It's not nice for whatever her name is, though, so Jack takes a deep breath and goes back to their table just long enough to bid his adieus. Pretty blond is now cozy next to Boone, which eases Jack's guilt immediately; two minutes later, he's out of the club. It's in a busy part of the city, as far as nightlife goes, so it's easy to flag down a cab that brings him back to the hotel in ten minutes. It's there that the real jitters take hold of Jack, because it's only a matter of time before Sawyer comes back, too, and he's not quite sure he's ready for it all. He wants it, though, wants it so bad.
He can't just sit on the bed and wait, so Jack decides to take a shower, which helps relax his upper back a little. Just thinking of what is to come is enough to make him hard and Jack decides to take the edge off, his hand slick with soap. Images of Sawyer and how he'd be if he was here now, wet and soapy too, are easy to conjure courtesy of the show the whole team gets after every game in the clubhouse. It's over embarrassingly fast, as Jack shoots his load on the shower tiles, panting and knees about to buckle. Jerking off was probably a good idea if he wants to keep a certain amount of dignity on performance, if they get to sex tonight. They better get to sex tonight.
When Jack finally closes the water, he strains to hear if Sawyer is in the room yet. Probably not, as Jack supposes that Sawyer would have came in the bathroom without even thinking about it twice. But no, there's no sound, no TV, so Jack brushes his teeth, then decides to put on pajama pants and a t-shirt. He's just finished pulling the t-shirt down when the door opens, which makes Jack jump around in surprise. Shit. Sawyer, leaning on the door he just closed, is looking at Jack with a little head tilt, as if curious: how it will play out, who will move first.
"Hey," Jack says lamely, and it almost gets out as a squeak. Dammit.
"Hey yourself," Sawyer counters, now with a slow spreading smile. "Getting ready for bed?"
And wow, he sure can make the most innocent statement sound depraved. Jack doesn't know what to do with his hands, so he puts them on his hips and shrugs.
"Yes."
"Need any help?"
Jack looks at the bed, it's just there behind him, even if he knows he's stalling. He turns back and is about to say "maybe" but the word dies on his lips when he sees that Sawyer's moving towards him now, although prowling would be more accurate. It's sexy as hell and Jack's dick makes a valiant effort to jump right back in the game. Might even be succeeding. Sawyer stops, though, but no more than a foot away, Even if Jack wants to close the distance between them, he resists.
He's being scrutinized intently, evaluated again.
"If we do this, will you freak out on me afterwards?" Sawyer asks.
It's a valid question, but Jack thinks his freaking out has been done preemptively.
"Would it stop you if I said yes?"
At that, Sawyer surprisingly takes half a step back, face closing off.
"If you don't want..." I won't force myself on you is clear even if unsaid. "We have to work together."
"That's why I usually don't fuck teammates," Jack agrees.
For a second, they just stare at one another. This is such a bad idea, and they both know it. On the other hand... Jack looks Sawyer over and as bad ideas go, he's had worse. To make it clear that he does indeed want to go there, Jack finally takes the next step forward, reaches out to hook a couple of fingers in the belt-loop of those maddening jeans and tugs forward.
"Usually," he repeats.
It's all the permission Sawyer needed, because he comes willingly, then frames Jack's face with his hands and kisses him. Jack's a bit surprised that there are no more goading or smartass remarks, only a kiss that rapidly goes deep and thorough. Once in movement, Sawyer pushes Jack backward until he hits the bed. Jack half expects being pushed on it, but Sawyer lets him scramble on backwards, following right after, and Jack ends up lying down with Sawyer on all fours right over him, looking at him so intently it gives him shivers.
"You drive me nuts, too," Sawyer declares and Jack has to laugh at that.
"I drive you nuts?" Jack says, trying to get his sniggering under control. That's rich, since there's no one more infuriating than Sawyer, who smiles back, sly and dangerous.
"Oh yeah."
Jack reaches up and starts undoing those little nacre buttons, opening the black cotton shirt that is as soft as silk. He stumbles a bit in his haste, which makes Sawyer huff and straighten up, undoes a couple of buttons himself, then grabs the back of his collar and pulls it off. All of that golden skin again, and Jack roves his hands on Sawyer's smooth chest, finally touching what he's been taunted with for so long. It's possibly even better because of the build up and Jack is starving for it, wants more, and more implies getting rid of those pants, too.
He makes work of the belt pretty easily, but the jeans are so tight that Sawyer's hard on is right there as if in plain sight and Jack rubs his knuckles on it before undoing the button fly. It makes Sawyer hiss, then he falls down on Jack to kiss him stupid once more; Jack's hands are diverted to the silky strands of Sawyer's hair to hold him in place. Sawyer tries to lowers his pants, but after several seconds of struggling he stops with a frustrated moan, then flips on his back next to Jack to shimmy out of them properly. It makes Jack laugh as he helps with the shoes and socks. Then Sawyer is satisfyingly naked at last, so frigging gorgeous, spread on the bed without any self-consciousness, and Jack's the one looming above. Sawyer takes a handful of Jacks t-shirt and tugs.
"Off already," he says, and it sounds like an order.
Jack pulls it over his head and Sawyer's eyes get even more heated as he glides his hands down Jack's torso lightly, nails barely scratching but enough to make trails of heat in their wake. Once he reaches the elastic of the pajamas, Sawyer makes it snap against Jack's belly.
"That too. C'mon."
Jack does so but as soon as the pajamas join the rest of their clothes by the side of the bed, he bends down to kiss Sawyer again. He decides that what would improve this night ten folds would be to give Sawyer a blowjob. He kisses his way down, a bit more hurriedly that he normally would do it, thinking that slow will have to be for another time. Jack's pretty sure there will be another time, depending how this goes, and he's determined to make it good. Soon enough, he's sucking over Sawyer's hipbone, eyeing his hard on that's curving towards his belly button, flushed and already showing beads of precome. Sawyer's making growls and moans of encouragement, a hand kneading Jack's shoulder repetitively and of course he can't shut up.
"Yeah, c'mon, c'mon, do it. Jesus fuck, just suck me already," Sawyer urges.
Somehow, Sawyer's almost desperation makes Jack feel all the more powerful and it's his turn to smirk. He doesn't even deign to reply, though, and instead of teasing he just sucks Sawyer in, taking him as deep as he can on a first try which makes Sawyer shout and grip Jack's arm tightly.
Alternating between sucking and licking, Jack learns quite easily what Sawyer likes, especially since he's pretty vocal about what he wants and how to do it. One of the strongest reactions Jack gets is when the tip of his finger brushes Sawyer's hole, making him almost arch off the bed. Jack's definitely okay with that development, and suddenly all he wants is to fuck Sawyer. He pulls off Sawyer's prick with a soft drag of teeth, which gives surprisingly positive results.
"I'm gonna fuck you through the mattress, just so you know," Jack says, and by the way Sawyer's dick twitches in his hand and the moan Sawyer makes it's a plan that won't be vetoed.
Leaving Sawyer panting on the bed, Jack goes to rummage through his suitcase and comes back with condoms and lube, setting them on the bed while Sawyer observes him with eyes half mast, more black than blue, flushed and gorgeous.
"You're such a control freak," Sawyer says.
"And you get off on it," Jack counters, which is met with a grin and no denial.
Jack settles down between Sawyer's shamelessly opened thighs and gets right back to business, blowing Sawyer with all he's got while Sawyer skids his fingers in Jack's buzz-cut, though he's not pushing him down. When Jack feels Sawyer's pretty gone on it, barely containing how he moves his hips, Jack lubes his fingers - stumbling a bit one handed - and Sawyer almost bucks him off as his slicked fingers start to circle with intent.
"Fuck, yeah, God..." Sawyer all but whines, trying to shove down even if Jack's not even in yet.
The moment Jack finally does push a finger in Sawyer, Sawyer curses and urges him for more already, which Jack does, two digits now. He stretches and scissors, making sure to graze Sawyer's prostate which elicits porn star moans again and again. Sawyer's a pushy bottom, asking for more, faster, harder, and for Jack to fuck him already. When Jack decides that he's ready, and not before, he pulls of Sawyer's cock and straightens up.
"There's no hurry..." Jack says, which is met with bewilderment.
"What? Hell yeah, there is. I've wanted this for months! Months!" Sawyer says, voice laced with urgency.
Laughing a little, Jack shakes his head as he rolls a condom on and slicks himself.
"Not used to be denied, are you?" Jack says.
It makes Sawyer smirk.
"Nope. But now I want you real bad."
It figures that not a lot of people have been hard to get for that infuriating man, or if there was, he could turn around and have his pick of anyone else. It makes Jack wonder if tonight is just Sawyer finally getting what he's been chasing, and if tomorrow he'll try to hunt someone else. Frankly, Jack's not sure if it's not the same for him. Is he just trying to get Sawyer out of his system? Will one fuck be enough? He doubts it very much. And as Sawyer said earlier, they'll have to work together after this and it better not degenerate. It's way too late to have second thoughts, though, now that he's pushing into Sawyer and being gripped by tight heat. Jack manages to go slowly even if Sawyer goads him into just moving already. Once completely sheathed, Jack lowers himself to brush their chests together and kisses Sawyer hard, ending the kiss with a sharp bite to his lower lip. Sawyer's writhing under him, trying to move and clenching his internal muscles to grip Jack's cock.
"C'mon, c'mon, what are you waiting for?" Sawyer says, urgent. "Fuck me. Now."
Jack slowly pulls away, reveling in the sensation then pushes back in hard, which makes Sawyer keen and arch against him.
"Yeah, yeah, that's it."
Thus encouraged, Jack does it again, slow then hard. It's good and he continues with that rhythm, even slowing down when Sawyer protests that it's not enough. Jack does get off on having a bit of control over this, at last, while Sawyer can only take it even with the attempts to boss him around.
"Shut up, Sawyer," Jack says, but it's only for show because he loves that Sawyer's feisty.
Sawyer has a short and delighted laugh as that.
"Oh, you're definitely getting off too much on this control thing," he declares, eyes twinkling. "You're so going to pay when I screw you."
The promise implied that it's not a one off is reassuring in itself, but Jack shakes his head.
"Sorry, top only," Jack says. He hopes it's not a deal breaker, but that's the way things are and it's better to be upfront.
"I can live with that," Sawyer says, coinciding with a particularly hard snap of Jack's hips that makes him groan. "I can live with that very well."
Lowering his head, Jack mouths at Sawyer's neck then bites him hard, which makes Sawyer seize up around his dick with a growl.
"Good," Jack says.
"Yeah," Sawyer says, going pliant below him. "Whatever you want."
It makes Jack's heart skip a beat.
"You've got to be sure about that," Jack says, still thrusting into Sawyer excruciatingly slowly, although he feels his orgasm build steadily and his body asks for more.
"I'm sure, I'm sure, c'mon, fuck me like you mean it, Jackass."
Only Sawyer would insult a man balls deep in his ass, that's pretty sure. Jack braces himself on his elbows and picks up the pace, still going hard but faster now. He kisses Sawyer some more so he shuts up, and only breaks it off when it gets too hard to fuck, breathe and kiss at the same time, having to let go of one. Sawyer's flushed and disheveled, golden hair messy and blue-green eyes half closed as he observes Jack, who can't believe he finally has this. He's seen lots of pretty people, known several and even fucked a few over the years, but there's something about Sawyer's wild beauty that just gets to him on a visceral level.
He doesn't wait to be ordered into more and harder and just does it, pounding into Sawyer now in a way that makes Sawyer groan and arch against him. It's pretty evident he's close, and Jack thanks god that he jacked off earlier or he'd never have made it to this point otherwise. Jack's close to coming himself and he snakes a hand down to grip Sawyer's cock, and starts to strip him, smearing the wetness of his precome around until the slide is slick and wet. Jack lowers his mouth to Sawyer's ear.
"Let go for me, Sawyer, come on," Jack says.
"Fuck!" Sawyer says, bucking below him. After a couple more thrusts, Jack can feel him start to shake and come, which seems to go on and on and is enough to push Jack over the edge himself. The hit of pleasure is intense, making everything else fade out as it zings through Jack's system.
There must be a couple of seconds he's missing, because Jack realizes he crashed down on Sawyer, face tucked in the crook of his neck while he pants to catch his breath. Sawyer's breathing hard, too, hands resting on Jack's hips but otherwise still and silent. Then, to Jack's surprise, Sawyer turns his head and kisses Jack's temple gently. In answer, it's possible that Jack awkwardly tightens his arms in sort of a hug that lasts one point three seconds or so. Jack gives himself five more breaths in this surprisingly gentle afterglow, and then carefully pulls out while rolling onto Sawyer's side, then his back. Jack takes off and ties the condom, throws it in the thrash can, and beside him Sawyer does a full body stretch accompanied with a satisfied hum. It makes Jack smile and Sawyer catches it and replies with a playful wink.
"I knew you'd fuck like a champ," Sawyer finally says, voice still lower than usual and Jack should not feel this proud at a callous praise. He rolls his eyes, trying to cover his pleasure.
"Shut up."
Sawyer laughs and rolls off the bed with grace and goes to the bathroom where he plays with water, probably cleaning up. It's a good idea, one Jack should follow. Maybe Jack closed his eyes for a second because he's surprised when a damp washcloth lands on his chest. His jump makes Sawyer laugh around his toothbrush and while he goes back in the bathroom, Jack takes care of the worst of the mess on his dick and chest, before dropping the washcloth on the floor. Jack wrestles with the sheets and covers until he's comfortable and decides that he's too mellow on his post orgasm haze to worry about what comes next.
He's half way to sleep when Sawyer comes back in the room, and it takes him a second to register the dip in his bed as Sawyer climbs and plasters himself against Jack's back. Jack's surprised that Sawyer wants to sleep in the same bed already, but not against the cuddling at all, so he lets Sawyer get away with it without a comment. Of course he does. He's got a feeling that he'll let Sawyer get away with a lot of things from now on.
"'Night, Jack," Sawyer says and Jack smiles.
"Wow. My real name. I'm honored," Jack says, just to tease him. But it's probably the first time he hears it from Sawyer.
"Yeah, yeah," Sawyer grumbles. Then, as an afterthought, "asshole."
Jack laughs and Sawyer kinds of half hugs him as he gets comfortable, if comfortable means turning into a human octopus.
"I like you, too," Jack says.
And the worst thing is that he does. Maybe a whole lot.
"Told you so," Sawyer sing songs and Jack can't help but giggle.
"Yeah. I know."
As curve balls goes, crossing paths with Sawyer is probably one the best life has thrown at him.
He'll try hard not to drop it.
The End
As said in the title/header, this is the prequel to series in the same alternate universe that I started a long time ago. If you are interested, the first chapter of the series (there are 5 at the moment) can be found here