Waiting for someone to come pick me up off the tracks.
Title: Waiting for someone to come pick me up off the tracks.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jack/Juliet, Sawyer/Juliet
Wordcount: 670
Summary: Written for coffeecrisp7 , who wanted Jack/Juliet/Sawyer (C is for Confusion). It's not a threesome threesome, it just involves the three characters so I hope that's ok!
He frowns as he walks away from their quaint, cozy little home and shoves his fists deep into the pockets of his jumpsuit. When he looks back she’s laughing and he’s smirking, lazily kicking his feet up on the coffee table. She nudges them off and eases down onto the spot next to him on the couch, resting her head on his shoulder and letting her eyes slip closed while he reads silently, running his fingers through her hair.
It isn’t right.
He recalls the tight lines around Juliet’s eyes when she greeted him and the forced happiness in her smile when she ushered him in. He can picture the lazy carelessness in Sawyer’s demeanour and the ‘for granted’ attitude he’s taken with regards to the woman that he’s evidently living with.
Neither of them are happy, not really happy. They may not know it yet but he can see through their little facade, the one that’s been carefully constructed to dodge suspicious questions and let them slip almost unnoticed into an unnatural society. He’s the outsider, hovering on the edge of their precarious construction and waiting for it to come tumbling down.
Days later, when he’s lying beneath her with his hands pinned on either side of his body, he arches up to catch her lips in a kiss and tastes alcohol and sticky syrup. It’s a strange combination that makes him wonder whether the beer came before the pancakes or vice versa. When his tongue smoothes over the ridged top of her palate he tastes a strong, different flavour and his breath hitches with distant guilt as he wonders whether it’s Sawyer that he’s tasting in the hidden crevices of her mouth.
Her body is warm and alive, positively trembling with energy as she perches over him, her rocking hips straddled over his waist. Her full breasts lift and fall in time with her rapid breathing and her eyes are closed, her face inches away from his as she bends over him, keeping her hands firmly around his wrists.
She lets go of one hand and reaches between them, awkwardly fumbling with her clit before panting,
“You do it.”
Her breath hitches and her hand comes back to steady herself as his thumb circles her sensitive clit. He feels her quiver around him and his hips roll upwards of their own accord, bumping his hand harder against her clit and making her gasp.
Her movements quicken, erratic and desperate, as she grinds down on his stroking fingers. A light swipe of his thumb on her clit brings her over the edge and he watches, untangling his other hand from her grasp to settle on her hip and steady her, as her back arches and her swollen lips part to let a low moan past her throat.
He draws his thumb away from her clit and rests his hand on her other hip, holding her still while he thrusts upwards. She winces and he feels the sharp spasm of an aftershock jolt through her body, making her achingly sensitive. His hand moves to her lower back, pulling her forward as her pushes into her deeply, surrounded by semi-clenched muscles. He lets out a low grunt when he comes and she runs her fingers through his short hair soothingly, but he sees the almost pained look in her eyes and the way she gingerly eases him out of her body.
She pulls her leg over his waist and curls up in bed next to him, draping a thin sheet over her bare back. He reaches for her, tenderly brushing the high curve of her cheekbone with his thumb, but his voice sounds too condescending, too accusatory when he murmurs,
“You’re not happy.”
She immediately rolls away from him and wraps a thin, almost translucent, sheet around herself. She hesitates with her hand on the frame of the bathroom door and fixes him with an icy stare that makes him squirm ever so slightly,
“Don’t you dare judge me.”