Visibility
Jun. 30th, 2006 11:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alliecat8Fandom: Lost
Title: Visibility
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Through Live Together, Die Alone
Warning: This is the dirtiest thing I ever wrote. Seriously. I am so ashamed.
Disclaimer: Only mine in my dreams
A/N: Damn near everybody contributed to this in some way. Thanks for the WONDERFUL suggestions goes to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sweet_crazyass, eponine119, holycitygirl, arabella_hope, and halfdutch. And as always, thanks to my awesome and ever-patient beta, eponine119
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
psych_30's prompt #10: Approach/Avoidance, and philosophy_20's prompt #19: Caught in the form of limitation, and for fanfic100's prompt #5: Outsides
This is very, very belated birthday fic forgottalovev.
It was Sawyer’s idea to keep the boat.
“A memento,” he called it, to Jack’s exasperation.
“Why do you want a memento of the worst experience of your life?” he asked him once.
Sawyer preened. “’Cause it’s also a memento of the best.”
Jack hated that boat. He hated it because it reminded him of all things Island. He hated it because it reminded him that he had not been the hero, the savior. He hated it because Sawyer loved it.
“It’s your day off, Doc,” Sawyer had complained that morning as Jack reached for his suit jacket and tie. “What’s wrong with sleepin’ in for a change, grabbin’ a twelve-pack later on, takin’ the boat out—“
“I’ve got patients, Sawyer.” Jack looked down his nose at Sawyer, still sprawled in bed at mid-morning, hair tousled and eyes hazy and one hand lying against the taut skin of his belly. He was posing, Jack knew; he’d seen Sawyer push the sheet down when he thought Jack wasn’t looking, not quite low enough to be indecent but definitely low enough to provoke indecent thoughts. “They don’t get a day off from being sick. I’ll go in for a little while, just long enough to check –“
“Right.” Sawyer snorted and rolled over in bed, presenting Jack with a broad expanse of tanned back and a tantalizing glimpse of lighter flesh as the sheet slid lower. The “kiss my ass” message was clear, and Jack was pretty sure it wasn’t meant as a come-on.
“At least I’ve got a real job,” he muttered, and hearing how grumpy and bitter his voice sounded he half-wondered if that was a good thing, after all.
********
As usual, he’d gotten sidetracked by a complication at the hospital, and it was well into the afternoon when he returned to the beach house Sawyer had bought shortly after their rescue. Like the boat, Jack hated the beach house, hated the beach, but unfortunately he’d failed miserably at hating Sawyer, so here he was.
The open mailbox, bundled packages protruding, told Jack that Sawyer was probably sailing. He’d had no other plans, and even Sawyer wasn’t lazy enough to lie around the house all day without checking the mail. He made his way up the sidewalk, sorting through the stack of correspondence. An invitation to an awards banquet, a few bills, but as was almost always the case, most of the envelopes contained fan mail. At the bottom of the stack was the latest issue of People magazine, and Jack held it up as he dropped the rest of the mail onto the hall table. Sawyer wasn’t the cover boy this time – that furor had died down months ago – but his beaming image graced the bottom right corner next to the words, “The Man Who Saved the World. The Hero of Flight 815 talks about Fame, Fate, and what the Dharma Project means to our future.”
Jack tossed his jacket onto the couch and dropped down beside it, flipping through the pages until he found the article. The People spread was casual – Sawyer at the wheel of the boat looking cocky, Sawyer with his arm around Penelope Widmore looking proud, Sawyer sprawled on the beach at sunset looking sexier than any human being had a right to look – but nothing compared to the recent spreads in several men’s fitness magazines, spreads that were so raw and sensual that Jack finally had to ask Sawyer to hide them. He didn’t have the luxury of spending hours on end mesmerized by magazine photos. He had a life, he had responsibilities, he had the reality of the man behind the mystique demanding his attention in what little spare time he had. He didn’t have time for fantasies.
Skimming through the article – he’d already heard more than enough of the Hero’s thoughts on fame – he reached for his cell phone and hit the auto-dial button. He expected to hear static and the sound of rushing wind on Sawyer’s end when he answered, but instead he heard the blaring sound of Aerosmith, and heavy breathing. “Where are you?” he asked loudly, wondering how Sawyer expected to have a conversation with all that noise in the background.
There was a grunt, and Sawyer shouted, “The gym.”
“Our gym? Or the gym?”
“Our gym, you idiot. Where the hell are you?”
“Home. Get in here.”
He made his way to the kitchen and grabbed two beers from the refrigerator, popping the top on the first one just as Sawyer came through the door that connected the kitchen to the garage. He’d been pumping iron, that much was obvious from the bulging veins in his biceps and the tautness of the pecs under his white t-shirt. He was wearing jeans, though, so it must not have been a full-on workout. “Thanks,” he said, taking the beer Jack held out to him. “Wonderin’ when you’d finally show up.”
“Thought you’d be on the water.”
Sawyer tipped his head back and took a long swallow, wiped his mouth and looked at Jack, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I was waitin’ for you. Like always.”
In that moment Jack almost felt sorry for him. Fame was his life these days, and fame was his drug, but fame was also his jailer so much of the time. The paparazzi problem had finally gotten the better of him when he discovered clandestine photos of himself at the gym on the internet, and he’d immediately set to work converting their garage to a private workout room. These days it was Jack who did the grocery shopping and ran all the errands, because Sawyer was accosted by the curious, the star-struck, and mercenary photographers every time he ventured out of the house. So he rarely did. His home, his boat, and the open sea were his world.
As was Jack.
“Give me a minute to change my clothes.” Jack hated the ocean, hated the boat, but he’d failed miserably at hating Sawyer, so he was going sailing.
********
He hadn’t figured Sawyer for the sailing type. Maybe that’s why he’d neglected to keep an eye on him when they’d returned to camp with Kate and Sayid. They’d managed to out-maneuver the Others for the time being, but they needed a plan. His attempts to get the survivors to cooperate had, typically, degenerated into bickering and while he was absorbed with that Sawyer had simply walked away, climbed aboard the boat and sailed off into the sunset. He’d followed a compass heading of 325 and less than two days later he’d found the shipping lanes and rescue.
Jack watched him now, his movements confident and competent as he slowed the boat to a stop and set about dropping the anchors and he wondered, not for the first time, why Sawyer had kept this particular skill a secret from the survivors. Why he’d volunteered to go on the raft but had never mentioned that he knew his way around boats. It had been Jack’s first question when he’d been reunited with Sawyer, when he’d stepped off the plane to find Sawyer and a mob of shouting reporters waiting for him. He’d felt awkward, facing Sawyer after everything that had happened, hadn’t known what to do or say, and as cameras flashed around them he’d blurted out, “Why didn’t you tell me you knew how to sail?”
Sawyer looked at him for a long minute and then a slow, sly grin spread across his face. “You never asked.” That had been the last thing he’d ever said about it.
So much mystery surrounded the man, even now. Sawyer never talked about his past, though the press had dug deep to uncover his tragic history. Sawyer shrugged off questions about his parents’ deaths and sidestepped the innuendo that cropped up occasionally of a shady past. Once, in a moment of rare openness, he’d told Jack the reason for his bond with Penelope Widmore. “She saved my ass,” he’d admitted. “I owed people. She paid ‘em. I gave Desmond back to her, she gave me a clean slate in return.”
Jack knew that that was probably as much as he’d ever learn about Sawyer’s history. Somehow that felt right. In a strange way their time on the Island had been a transformation, a transition between the people they’d been, and the people they’d become. He looked at Sawyer now, sprawled in the sun on the deck of the boat that he loved far beyond all reason, and Jack knew that Sawyer was happy, maybe the happiest he’d ever been. The thought made him grin, and Sawyer propped himself up on his elbows and eyed him suspiciously. “What’s so funny?”
“You.” He chuckled softly. “You’re a sentimental fool, you know that?”
“And you’re a jackass,” Sawyer responded automatically, but while the old Sawyer would have punctuated the insult with a glare, the new-and-improved Sawyer flashed a dimple and a wink, and shook his head back to let his hair blow in the wind. He was the picture of contentment, the picture of a man who was relaxed and at home with his surroundings.
Because of their late start they hadn’t taken the boat out far, just into the little private bay that bordered Sawyer’s property. The boat bobbed in the water, sunlight glinting on the pristine white sails and sparkling on the waves. It was hypnotic and peaceful, and Jack stretched his legs out and rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen his muscles, trying to connect with the sense of freedom and ease that Sawyer seemed to find so easily out here on the ocean. His eyes traveled over Sawyer’s prone form, taking in how bronze his skin looked in contrast to his white t-shirt. Jack pulled his shirt over his head, hoping the sun’s rays were still strong enough to help him get rid of the indoor pallor that came from 14-hour days at the hospital.
“You don’t want to do that,” Sawyer said when Jack’s hand went to the snap of his jeans. “There’s a boat.”
“Where?” Jack shielded his eyes with his hand and glanced in the direction Sawyer pointed. He could just make out the shape of a powerboat in the distance, unmoving, near the mouth of the bay.
“Dammit.” Jack supposed it could be vacationers, tourists who didn’t know that the bay was generally considered to be off-limits. But there was a very good chance that it was paparazzi. They hadn’t dared to trespass on Sawyer’s property, but they would probably consider the ocean to be public territory. Sawyer had learned from bitter past experience that they could take photos with their telephoto lenses from as much as half a mile away. “Should we try to chase them off?”
Sawyer closed his eyes and sighed. “Nah. That’d just give ‘em somethin’ else to gossip about.”
Jack tried to think of a way to express his sympathy. He knew that, although outwardly Sawyer courted the attention, on some deep level it unnerved him. He’d been willing to do the talk show circuit, the rounds of magazine and newspaper interviews, because he had an important story to tell. He told it with all the magnetic charm he was capable of when it suited him. He agreed to the photo shoots because they appealed to his vanity, and there was no doubt about it, Sawyer was vain. But the praise, the adulation, Jack sensed that that disturbed him on some deep level. Jack sometimes wondered if part of why he’d attached himself to Sawyer was to try to prevent the drift into anti-heroism that he knew from experience would likely come next.
To be his anchor.
As if sensing the direction Jack’s thoughts had taken, Sawyer rolled onto his side and reached for him. He began to trace lazy circles against the pale skin of Jack’s stomach. “You okay?” he asked.
“Fine.” He wished Sawyer hadn’t brought it up. “I took something before we left.” His tendency toward seasickness embarrassed him ferociously. He wasn’t sure if it was a physical or an emotional problem, but he’d learned that the solution was to take a Dramamine before sailing and to stay out of the galley. Climbing down into the galley reminded him too much of climbing down into the hatch, and reminders of the hatch and what had happened there made him ill. But as long as he stayed aboveboard, he could control it.
Sawyer slid his hand across Jack’s cheek and his fingers cupped his chin, pulling him closer. Just before his lips brushed Jack’s, Jack said, “The boat….”
Sawyer flicked the tip of his tongue across Jack’s bottom lip. “Screw ‘em.”
The wind had blown his hair into his eyes, and Jack reached up to push it back. “It’ll get out.”
“It’ll get out sometime, anyhow.” Sawyer shrugged and reached for Jack’s hand, twining his fingers through Jack’s, the gesture somehow possessive. “We can’t hide it. You live with me.”
“They don’t know that. I’m careful. All they know is that we’re friends.”
Sawyer pulled Jack’s hand down, and placed it against his hip. “Remember that magazine…thing…a few months ago?”
Jack grinned. Only one thing was a “thing” in Sawyer’s mind. “The ‘America’s Most Eligible Bachelor’ thing.”
“Yeah. That thing.” Sawyer leaned in and brushed his lips over Jack’s cheek as he made his way to his ear. He whispered, “They were wrong.”
Jack skimmed his hand up Sawyer’s back until he reached his hair. He pulled Sawyer’s head back and looked at him with mock sternness. “You’re not a bachelor? What else have you been keeping from me?”
Sawyer smiled, a slow, easy half-smile, his eyes drifting closed. “I ain’t eligible.”
Jack watched him, the closed eyes and the slightly open mouth. He felt the rise and fall of Sawyer’s chest against his own, the pressure of Sawyer’s thighs against his. In that moment he wasn’t a hero, he wasn’t a celebrity, he was only a man. A man waiting to be kissed. A man who didn’t care about anything else. Sawyer had the whole world’s attention, but the only attention he cared about was Jack’s.
If they want to know, Jack thought, then let ‘em know. He raised his mouth to Sawyer’s and claimed him. Sawyer tasted like the sea and like smoke and like surrender, and as their tongues slid together Jack felt himself surrendering as well, to the warmth of the sunshine and the gentle rocking of the boat and the sound of Sawyer’s soft moans of pleasure. Sawyer’s hands roamed, moving up and down Jack’s back, kneading and loosening the knots of tension he found there, and Jack molded himself to Sawyer’s body, feeling as if he was melting from its heat. Just a kiss, just one long, slow kiss, with tongues and teeth and the soft scrape of stubbled skin. And then it was so much more than that, not just a kiss anymore but a surge of white-hot need, strong and fierce and impossible to resist, and the tension that had begun to melt away was back but with a whole new source, the man beside him, the man who now had his full attention.
Sawyer shifted his hips and now Jack could feel that he had Sawyer’s full attention as well. He slid his leg between Sawyer’s and Sawyer pressed down, grinding his growing erection against Jack’s thigh. Jack gasped and bucked his hips involuntarily, needing friction, needing heat. Just a kiss, he thought, but his body demanded more, and his hands traveled down, over Sawyer’s back, bunching the fabric of his shirt in one hand while he grasped Sawyer’s ass with the other, pulling him in. They shifted again, increasing the pressure as hard cock slid against hard cock. Sawyer groaned into his mouth and canted his hips, igniting a burn that went straight down to Jack’s toes, and suddenly he was desperate to get his hands between them, desperate to open both sets of zippers and feel the slick slide of skin on skin, and some last shred of sanity told him that this had suddenly gone way too far, the fire was out of control and he had to do something now, or it would be too late. He slid his hands between them but instead of traveling down they moved up. He braced them tight against Sawyer’s chest and shoved hard, propelling Sawyer backward, over the side of the boat, into the dousing chill of the ocean.
Through a haze of need and frustration he watched Sawyer go under, watched as he emerged spewing curses. With a groan, Jack got to his feet, hesitated for an instant, and then dove in after him.
“Are you outta your mind?” Sawyer yelled when Jack surfaced, reeling from the shock of the icy water. “What the fuck—“
“The boat, Sawyer!” he yelled back. “The boat with your goddamn stalkers and their goddamn telephoto lenses out there taking goddamn pictures to put on the goddamn internet. Do you want to see us on some porno website tomorrow? Do you?”
Sawyer slung his wet hair out of his eyes and glared. “So you had to push me off the fuckin’ boat? You couldn’t just say ‘stop’?”
“Would you have? Could you have stopped?”
Sawyer looked daggers at him, breathing hard, and then he turned his back and started to swim with fierce powerful strokes, away from the boat. Jack followed his lead, swimming as hard as he could until his arms began to ache, and when he finally slowed to a stop he’d accomplished his goal. The cold water and the release of pent-up energy left him limp and drained. He looked around and found Sawyer a few feet away, treading water.
“What now, Captain Bligh?”
Jack hadn’t thought it through that far. “Now we…swim back to the boat? Go home, finish what we started after we’re behind closed doors?”
It didn’t feel like a satisfying plan, and Sawyer’s pained expression told him that he agreed. But he didn’t argue, he just struck off for the boat, leaving Jack to follow in his wake.
The trip home was short and silent. The look on Sawyer’s face when he steered the boat to shore told Jack that the happiness he’d felt earlier had ebbed away like the ocean tide. If his abrupt, perturbed movements as he tied the boat to the dock were any indication, they would not be picking up where they’d left off when they got back to the house. Jack had ruined Sawyer’s day and Sawyer would spend the evening in a bad mood, no matter that the sight of him lowering the sails, muscles working under the wet white t-shirt that was now almost transparent, was improving Jack’s mood immensely. He moved to the stern of the boat and scanned the horizon. “It’s gone,” he said.
“’Scuse me?” Sawyer slung his wet hair back and glanced over his shoulder in the direction of Jack’s gaze.
“The boat. It’s gone.”
“You sure?”
“Get me the binoculars.”
The sun was dipping low, kissing the water and turning it to gold. Nothing as far as the eye could see but empty shoreline, glittering waves, flame-colored sky. “Yeah. We’re alone.”
“Well ain’t that nice.” Sawyer climbed over the gunwale and hit the dock with a thud. His body language said it all, sailboat sex was no longer on today’s agenda. Jack sighed and gathered up his things, sunglasses, discarded shirt, a bottle of suntan oil, the cooler of beer. He watched Sawyer trudge across the beach toward the house and he cursed under his breath, feeling like a killjoy. He was responsible for erasing the look of easy contentment from Sawyer’s face, for reminding him that he was essentially a prisoner in his own home. He knew he’d done the right thing by putting the brakes on their public display of passion, but why did doing the right thing always make him feel so damned bad?
“Sawyer! Stop.”
Sawyer stopped but didn’t turn around as Jack hurried toward him. Dropping his things in the sand, Jack put a hand on his shoulder and wrapped the other one around his waist from behind. “I’m sorry.”
Sawyer shrugged. “Nothin’ to apologize for, Doc. It ain’t your fault.”
Jack buried his face in Sawyer’s hair, parting the wet strands and skimming his lips over the cool, damp skin of Sawyer’s neck. It was one of Sawyer’s most sensitive spots, and Jack felt a little shiver go through him as he sucked and licked. Jack slid his hands down Sawyer’s abdomen, pushing the wet fabric of his t-shirt up as his other hand traveled lower, over bare, moist skin, to dip just below the waistband of Sawyer's jeans. Sawyer sighed and leaned back against him heavily. Jack arched his hips, one small thrust to let Sawyer feel Jack’s need through the layers of wet denim between them.
He bent his legs behind Sawyer’s and at the same time shoved him forward, forcing him onto his knees in the sand.
“Jack, what –“
With his arms tight around Sawyer’s waist, his chest flush against the hard flat planes of his back, Jack lowered his head and ran his tongue along the curve of skin where neck met shoulder, feeling goose bumps rise against his tongue. “It’s just us,” he said, low and urgent. “Just us and the ocean and the sand and the sky, and I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll forget there’s anybody else in the whole world.”
Sawyer fell forward onto his outstretched arms, burying his fists in the sand. “There’s nobody else I give a damn about, Doc,” he said. “Just you.”
Fumbling with the button of Sawyer’s jeans, Jack raised his head, pressed his nose just behind his left ear, caught his earlobe between his lips and sucked. Sawyer’s hair smelled like the sea, and he tasted like tears. The button beneath his fingers finally released and Jack slid his hand inside, over Sawyer’s erection, the taut skin hot against the cold damp cloth. He closed his fingers around the swollen head and pumped him with long slow strokes, and soon he felt a different kind of moisture, this time slick and warm. “You want this,” Jack murmured against his ear. “You want it bad. You want me, right here, right now. Tell me you want it.”
“I want it, Jack. Need it. Need you. Just you. Now.”
Now. The demand went straight to Jack’s cock, and he let go of the t-shirt and sat back, grasping the waistband of Sawyer's jeans. He tugged, pushed the wet denim over his hips, down his thighs, and he fumbled in the sand beside him for the suntan oil as he took in the sight of Sawyer on his hands and knees before him, exposed, waiting. Demanding all of Jack’s attention, now.
He squeezed the oil onto his fingers until they were dripping, little drops falling onto the sand and glistening against the golden skin of Sawyer’s lower back. He braced one hand against Sawyer’s shoulder and slid the other over the tight, rounded curve of his ass and down, curling his fingers around his balls, squeezing lightly. He pressed the heel of his hand against the sensitive spot just behind them and then, when Sawyer’s moans began to take on a frustrated edge, he dragged his fingers back, along the crack of his ass, and finally he pushed one slick finger deep inside.
Sawyer rocked back against Jack’s hand. “Yeah, that’s good, that’s so good. Touch me. God, please, touch me.” He couldn’t touch himself, Jack realized, not with sandy hands, and he moved his left hand down and around. His own neglected cock throbbed and strained in the confinement of his sodden jeans, aching, begging for attention, but Jack continued to work Sawyer, one hand tight and pulsing around his erection and the other one cupped around his ass. He slid first one finger and then two against just the right spot, stroking the place that made Sawyer gasp and buck and curse. “Fuck, Jack, yes. Don’t stop, god, it’s so good, don’t stop…Jack, please, ah, so good, fuck me….” On and on Jack caressed him with firm, slow strokes, both inside and out, loving the way Sawyer arched back against him, loving the sounds he made, loving the fact that Sawyer had abandoned himself to Jack so completely. “Fuck, Jack, I need…so good, oh god, it burns please please oh god so good, Jesus, fuck, please…stop, Jack. I mean it, stop now, I’m….” He throbbed once, hard, against Jack’s palm and Jack quickly grabbed the base of his cock and squeezed, cutting off his orgasm, making him groan with both frustration and relief.
They stayed that way, motionless, for a long minute. When Jack was sure he’d pulled Sawyer back from the brink, he let him go and pulled away, breathing hard. “Just gonna slow down now, okay? I need a minute to catch up.” He reached for his zipper – finally, release from the confines of his cold tight prison – and pushed his jeans down off of his hips. His cock sprang free, slick and ready and hard as iron. He pushed the white t-shirt aside and thrust up hard against Sawyer’s back, reaching for himself, pressing down with the heel of his hand, rubbing the sensitive underside of his cock against Sawyer’s smooth tanned skin, across the deep indentations in the skin just above his ass. He fumbled in the sand for the bottle, and poured a thick stream of oil onto them both, and now he could slide against that skin, working himself with his hand all the while. He gripped Sawyer’s shoulder with his free hand to hold himself steady, and beneath his fingers he could feel the tremors of arousal and anticipation that shook the other man’s body.
“Jack….” Sawyer leaned heavily on his arms, his head hanging low between his shoulder blades, water-darkened strands of hair falling into his eyes. “Hurry. I need –“
“Yeah. Me too.” With one last hard thrust into his palm, he pulled back and gripped Sawyer’s hips. He positioned himself at Sawyer’s entrance and pushed, and Sawyer pushed back, opening for him, drawing him in. His first thrust was slow, steady, paced to give Sawyer time to relax for him, to adjust. He released Sawyer’s hip with one hand and fisted it in his hair. He pulled Sawyer’s head back and lowered his mouth, going to work on the back of his neck, licking, sucking, nipping at him as the friction below intensified and the heat flared.
Jack could feel it in every part of his body, the wild sweet burn of arousal, the fierce building need. With one deep thrust he buried himself in Sawyer, and Sawyer shoved back against him hard and gasped, “Touch me now, Jack, make me come, fuck need to come so bad, please….”
He’d gotten Sawyer so worked up that there was no way this could last very long, and Jack didn’t tease him, didn’t make him wait, he reached around and gripped his cock tightly, feeling it jerk and throb against his palm. “I can feel it,” he growled against Sawyer’s ear, “I can feel how bad you need to come, I’m gonna make you come, you feel that?” He changed the angle of his thrusts so that he was no longer just brushing past the right spot but was pushing into it directly, and Sawyer cried out, his entire body going stiff. “I need to feel you come, you’re so ready, please, come for me….” He thrust into him again and again, the angle just right, and the tone of Sawyer’s groans changed, became frantic and Jack groaned with him, saying his name, saying words that weren’t words at all but just primal sounds of need, and then Sawyer shoved back against him hard and his cock pulsed in Jack’s hand and he shouted Jack’s name, and he came, spurt after spurt after spurt erupting from his body and raining down onto the sand.
It was too much for Jack, the feel of Sawyer’s body spasming around him, the sound of his cries of release, the sight of him writhing on his knees in the sand. He lost all sense of rhythm, of finesse, of control. His thrusts became jerky, uncoordinated – harder, deeper, faster – as he raced toward completion, heart pounding, sweat breaking out on his bare chest and soaking into Sawyer’s shirt, one hand wrapped around Sawyer’s still-swollen cock and the fingers of the other still twisting convulsively in his hair. “Now,” he gasped, feeling as if there wasn’t enough air in his body, wasn’t enough air in the world, he was going to pass out, he was going to die if he didn’t come now. He felt the pull low in his belly, felt it travel straight to his cock, to his balls as they tightened, and he swelled and hardened even more inside of Sawyer and he heard Sawyer’s voice, breathless and gravelly with sated passion -- oh, fuck Jack, yeah -- and he shattered, losing himself in one white-hot burst after another until he’d lost the ability to see, lost the ability to hear, lost the ability to do anything but feel. And all he could feel was Sawyer.
When he began to regain his senses he found himself leaning bonelessly against Sawyer’s back, his head resting in the crook of Sawyer’s neck, his fingers still tangled in Sawyer’s hair. He tried to speak but all that came out was a low, replete moan.
“You okay, Doc?”
In answer, Jack slid his hand around to cup Sawyer’s chin, and he turned his face to the side so that Jack could look into his eyes. They gazed at each other as Jack’s vision cleared and his world, his whole world, swam back into focus. “I see you,” he said.
He saw a brief flicker of uncertainty, and he went on, “You think I don’t. You think everybody in the world is looking at you, that everybody else notices you, everybody but me.” Sawyer’s gaze wavered, and Jack knew he’d gotten it right. “You let everybody in the world look at you, but you don’t let them see you. I see you, Sawyer. I just wanted you to know.”
And in Sawyer’s eyes, a ghost. The ghost of the man who didn’t believe he was worthy of love, the man who didn’t believe he was worthy of Jack. “Then why don’t you hate me?”
Jack smiled, a brief little half-rueful smile. "I guess it's all a matter of perspective. I've failed at a lot of things in my life. But the thing I failed at most was hating you." He rested his forehead against Sawyer's. "Turns out, that's not a failure at all."
End
Title: Visibility
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Through Live Together, Die Alone
Warning: This is the dirtiest thing I ever wrote. Seriously. I am so ashamed.
Disclaimer: Only mine in my dreams
A/N: Damn near everybody contributed to this in some way. Thanks for the WONDERFUL suggestions goes to
sweet_crazyass, eponine119, holycitygirl, arabella_hope, and halfdutch. And as always, thanks to my awesome and ever-patient beta, eponine119For
psych_30's prompt #10: Approach/Avoidance, and philosophy_20's prompt #19: Caught in the form of limitation, and for fanfic100's prompt #5: OutsidesThis is very, very belated birthday fic for
gottalovev. It was Sawyer’s idea to keep the boat.
“A memento,” he called it, to Jack’s exasperation.
“Why do you want a memento of the worst experience of your life?” he asked him once.
Sawyer preened. “’Cause it’s also a memento of the best.”
Jack hated that boat. He hated it because it reminded him of all things Island. He hated it because it reminded him that he had not been the hero, the savior. He hated it because Sawyer loved it.
“It’s your day off, Doc,” Sawyer had complained that morning as Jack reached for his suit jacket and tie. “What’s wrong with sleepin’ in for a change, grabbin’ a twelve-pack later on, takin’ the boat out—“
“I’ve got patients, Sawyer.” Jack looked down his nose at Sawyer, still sprawled in bed at mid-morning, hair tousled and eyes hazy and one hand lying against the taut skin of his belly. He was posing, Jack knew; he’d seen Sawyer push the sheet down when he thought Jack wasn’t looking, not quite low enough to be indecent but definitely low enough to provoke indecent thoughts. “They don’t get a day off from being sick. I’ll go in for a little while, just long enough to check –“
“Right.” Sawyer snorted and rolled over in bed, presenting Jack with a broad expanse of tanned back and a tantalizing glimpse of lighter flesh as the sheet slid lower. The “kiss my ass” message was clear, and Jack was pretty sure it wasn’t meant as a come-on.
“At least I’ve got a real job,” he muttered, and hearing how grumpy and bitter his voice sounded he half-wondered if that was a good thing, after all.
********
As usual, he’d gotten sidetracked by a complication at the hospital, and it was well into the afternoon when he returned to the beach house Sawyer had bought shortly after their rescue. Like the boat, Jack hated the beach house, hated the beach, but unfortunately he’d failed miserably at hating Sawyer, so here he was.
The open mailbox, bundled packages protruding, told Jack that Sawyer was probably sailing. He’d had no other plans, and even Sawyer wasn’t lazy enough to lie around the house all day without checking the mail. He made his way up the sidewalk, sorting through the stack of correspondence. An invitation to an awards banquet, a few bills, but as was almost always the case, most of the envelopes contained fan mail. At the bottom of the stack was the latest issue of People magazine, and Jack held it up as he dropped the rest of the mail onto the hall table. Sawyer wasn’t the cover boy this time – that furor had died down months ago – but his beaming image graced the bottom right corner next to the words, “The Man Who Saved the World. The Hero of Flight 815 talks about Fame, Fate, and what the Dharma Project means to our future.”
Jack tossed his jacket onto the couch and dropped down beside it, flipping through the pages until he found the article. The People spread was casual – Sawyer at the wheel of the boat looking cocky, Sawyer with his arm around Penelope Widmore looking proud, Sawyer sprawled on the beach at sunset looking sexier than any human being had a right to look – but nothing compared to the recent spreads in several men’s fitness magazines, spreads that were so raw and sensual that Jack finally had to ask Sawyer to hide them. He didn’t have the luxury of spending hours on end mesmerized by magazine photos. He had a life, he had responsibilities, he had the reality of the man behind the mystique demanding his attention in what little spare time he had. He didn’t have time for fantasies.
Skimming through the article – he’d already heard more than enough of the Hero’s thoughts on fame – he reached for his cell phone and hit the auto-dial button. He expected to hear static and the sound of rushing wind on Sawyer’s end when he answered, but instead he heard the blaring sound of Aerosmith, and heavy breathing. “Where are you?” he asked loudly, wondering how Sawyer expected to have a conversation with all that noise in the background.
There was a grunt, and Sawyer shouted, “The gym.”
“Our gym? Or the gym?”
“Our gym, you idiot. Where the hell are you?”
“Home. Get in here.”
He made his way to the kitchen and grabbed two beers from the refrigerator, popping the top on the first one just as Sawyer came through the door that connected the kitchen to the garage. He’d been pumping iron, that much was obvious from the bulging veins in his biceps and the tautness of the pecs under his white t-shirt. He was wearing jeans, though, so it must not have been a full-on workout. “Thanks,” he said, taking the beer Jack held out to him. “Wonderin’ when you’d finally show up.”
“Thought you’d be on the water.”
Sawyer tipped his head back and took a long swallow, wiped his mouth and looked at Jack, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I was waitin’ for you. Like always.”
In that moment Jack almost felt sorry for him. Fame was his life these days, and fame was his drug, but fame was also his jailer so much of the time. The paparazzi problem had finally gotten the better of him when he discovered clandestine photos of himself at the gym on the internet, and he’d immediately set to work converting their garage to a private workout room. These days it was Jack who did the grocery shopping and ran all the errands, because Sawyer was accosted by the curious, the star-struck, and mercenary photographers every time he ventured out of the house. So he rarely did. His home, his boat, and the open sea were his world.
As was Jack.
“Give me a minute to change my clothes.” Jack hated the ocean, hated the boat, but he’d failed miserably at hating Sawyer, so he was going sailing.
********
He hadn’t figured Sawyer for the sailing type. Maybe that’s why he’d neglected to keep an eye on him when they’d returned to camp with Kate and Sayid. They’d managed to out-maneuver the Others for the time being, but they needed a plan. His attempts to get the survivors to cooperate had, typically, degenerated into bickering and while he was absorbed with that Sawyer had simply walked away, climbed aboard the boat and sailed off into the sunset. He’d followed a compass heading of 325 and less than two days later he’d found the shipping lanes and rescue.
Jack watched him now, his movements confident and competent as he slowed the boat to a stop and set about dropping the anchors and he wondered, not for the first time, why Sawyer had kept this particular skill a secret from the survivors. Why he’d volunteered to go on the raft but had never mentioned that he knew his way around boats. It had been Jack’s first question when he’d been reunited with Sawyer, when he’d stepped off the plane to find Sawyer and a mob of shouting reporters waiting for him. He’d felt awkward, facing Sawyer after everything that had happened, hadn’t known what to do or say, and as cameras flashed around them he’d blurted out, “Why didn’t you tell me you knew how to sail?”
Sawyer looked at him for a long minute and then a slow, sly grin spread across his face. “You never asked.” That had been the last thing he’d ever said about it.
So much mystery surrounded the man, even now. Sawyer never talked about his past, though the press had dug deep to uncover his tragic history. Sawyer shrugged off questions about his parents’ deaths and sidestepped the innuendo that cropped up occasionally of a shady past. Once, in a moment of rare openness, he’d told Jack the reason for his bond with Penelope Widmore. “She saved my ass,” he’d admitted. “I owed people. She paid ‘em. I gave Desmond back to her, she gave me a clean slate in return.”
Jack knew that that was probably as much as he’d ever learn about Sawyer’s history. Somehow that felt right. In a strange way their time on the Island had been a transformation, a transition between the people they’d been, and the people they’d become. He looked at Sawyer now, sprawled in the sun on the deck of the boat that he loved far beyond all reason, and Jack knew that Sawyer was happy, maybe the happiest he’d ever been. The thought made him grin, and Sawyer propped himself up on his elbows and eyed him suspiciously. “What’s so funny?”
“You.” He chuckled softly. “You’re a sentimental fool, you know that?”
“And you’re a jackass,” Sawyer responded automatically, but while the old Sawyer would have punctuated the insult with a glare, the new-and-improved Sawyer flashed a dimple and a wink, and shook his head back to let his hair blow in the wind. He was the picture of contentment, the picture of a man who was relaxed and at home with his surroundings.
Because of their late start they hadn’t taken the boat out far, just into the little private bay that bordered Sawyer’s property. The boat bobbed in the water, sunlight glinting on the pristine white sails and sparkling on the waves. It was hypnotic and peaceful, and Jack stretched his legs out and rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen his muscles, trying to connect with the sense of freedom and ease that Sawyer seemed to find so easily out here on the ocean. His eyes traveled over Sawyer’s prone form, taking in how bronze his skin looked in contrast to his white t-shirt. Jack pulled his shirt over his head, hoping the sun’s rays were still strong enough to help him get rid of the indoor pallor that came from 14-hour days at the hospital.
“You don’t want to do that,” Sawyer said when Jack’s hand went to the snap of his jeans. “There’s a boat.”
“Where?” Jack shielded his eyes with his hand and glanced in the direction Sawyer pointed. He could just make out the shape of a powerboat in the distance, unmoving, near the mouth of the bay.
“Dammit.” Jack supposed it could be vacationers, tourists who didn’t know that the bay was generally considered to be off-limits. But there was a very good chance that it was paparazzi. They hadn’t dared to trespass on Sawyer’s property, but they would probably consider the ocean to be public territory. Sawyer had learned from bitter past experience that they could take photos with their telephoto lenses from as much as half a mile away. “Should we try to chase them off?”
Sawyer closed his eyes and sighed. “Nah. That’d just give ‘em somethin’ else to gossip about.”
Jack tried to think of a way to express his sympathy. He knew that, although outwardly Sawyer courted the attention, on some deep level it unnerved him. He’d been willing to do the talk show circuit, the rounds of magazine and newspaper interviews, because he had an important story to tell. He told it with all the magnetic charm he was capable of when it suited him. He agreed to the photo shoots because they appealed to his vanity, and there was no doubt about it, Sawyer was vain. But the praise, the adulation, Jack sensed that that disturbed him on some deep level. Jack sometimes wondered if part of why he’d attached himself to Sawyer was to try to prevent the drift into anti-heroism that he knew from experience would likely come next.
To be his anchor.
As if sensing the direction Jack’s thoughts had taken, Sawyer rolled onto his side and reached for him. He began to trace lazy circles against the pale skin of Jack’s stomach. “You okay?” he asked.
“Fine.” He wished Sawyer hadn’t brought it up. “I took something before we left.” His tendency toward seasickness embarrassed him ferociously. He wasn’t sure if it was a physical or an emotional problem, but he’d learned that the solution was to take a Dramamine before sailing and to stay out of the galley. Climbing down into the galley reminded him too much of climbing down into the hatch, and reminders of the hatch and what had happened there made him ill. But as long as he stayed aboveboard, he could control it.
Sawyer slid his hand across Jack’s cheek and his fingers cupped his chin, pulling him closer. Just before his lips brushed Jack’s, Jack said, “The boat….”
Sawyer flicked the tip of his tongue across Jack’s bottom lip. “Screw ‘em.”
The wind had blown his hair into his eyes, and Jack reached up to push it back. “It’ll get out.”
“It’ll get out sometime, anyhow.” Sawyer shrugged and reached for Jack’s hand, twining his fingers through Jack’s, the gesture somehow possessive. “We can’t hide it. You live with me.”
“They don’t know that. I’m careful. All they know is that we’re friends.”
Sawyer pulled Jack’s hand down, and placed it against his hip. “Remember that magazine…thing…a few months ago?”
Jack grinned. Only one thing was a “thing” in Sawyer’s mind. “The ‘America’s Most Eligible Bachelor’ thing.”
“Yeah. That thing.” Sawyer leaned in and brushed his lips over Jack’s cheek as he made his way to his ear. He whispered, “They were wrong.”
Jack skimmed his hand up Sawyer’s back until he reached his hair. He pulled Sawyer’s head back and looked at him with mock sternness. “You’re not a bachelor? What else have you been keeping from me?”
Sawyer smiled, a slow, easy half-smile, his eyes drifting closed. “I ain’t eligible.”
Jack watched him, the closed eyes and the slightly open mouth. He felt the rise and fall of Sawyer’s chest against his own, the pressure of Sawyer’s thighs against his. In that moment he wasn’t a hero, he wasn’t a celebrity, he was only a man. A man waiting to be kissed. A man who didn’t care about anything else. Sawyer had the whole world’s attention, but the only attention he cared about was Jack’s.
If they want to know, Jack thought, then let ‘em know. He raised his mouth to Sawyer’s and claimed him. Sawyer tasted like the sea and like smoke and like surrender, and as their tongues slid together Jack felt himself surrendering as well, to the warmth of the sunshine and the gentle rocking of the boat and the sound of Sawyer’s soft moans of pleasure. Sawyer’s hands roamed, moving up and down Jack’s back, kneading and loosening the knots of tension he found there, and Jack molded himself to Sawyer’s body, feeling as if he was melting from its heat. Just a kiss, just one long, slow kiss, with tongues and teeth and the soft scrape of stubbled skin. And then it was so much more than that, not just a kiss anymore but a surge of white-hot need, strong and fierce and impossible to resist, and the tension that had begun to melt away was back but with a whole new source, the man beside him, the man who now had his full attention.
Sawyer shifted his hips and now Jack could feel that he had Sawyer’s full attention as well. He slid his leg between Sawyer’s and Sawyer pressed down, grinding his growing erection against Jack’s thigh. Jack gasped and bucked his hips involuntarily, needing friction, needing heat. Just a kiss, he thought, but his body demanded more, and his hands traveled down, over Sawyer’s back, bunching the fabric of his shirt in one hand while he grasped Sawyer’s ass with the other, pulling him in. They shifted again, increasing the pressure as hard cock slid against hard cock. Sawyer groaned into his mouth and canted his hips, igniting a burn that went straight down to Jack’s toes, and suddenly he was desperate to get his hands between them, desperate to open both sets of zippers and feel the slick slide of skin on skin, and some last shred of sanity told him that this had suddenly gone way too far, the fire was out of control and he had to do something now, or it would be too late. He slid his hands between them but instead of traveling down they moved up. He braced them tight against Sawyer’s chest and shoved hard, propelling Sawyer backward, over the side of the boat, into the dousing chill of the ocean.
Through a haze of need and frustration he watched Sawyer go under, watched as he emerged spewing curses. With a groan, Jack got to his feet, hesitated for an instant, and then dove in after him.
“Are you outta your mind?” Sawyer yelled when Jack surfaced, reeling from the shock of the icy water. “What the fuck—“
“The boat, Sawyer!” he yelled back. “The boat with your goddamn stalkers and their goddamn telephoto lenses out there taking goddamn pictures to put on the goddamn internet. Do you want to see us on some porno website tomorrow? Do you?”
Sawyer slung his wet hair out of his eyes and glared. “So you had to push me off the fuckin’ boat? You couldn’t just say ‘stop’?”
“Would you have? Could you have stopped?”
Sawyer looked daggers at him, breathing hard, and then he turned his back and started to swim with fierce powerful strokes, away from the boat. Jack followed his lead, swimming as hard as he could until his arms began to ache, and when he finally slowed to a stop he’d accomplished his goal. The cold water and the release of pent-up energy left him limp and drained. He looked around and found Sawyer a few feet away, treading water.
“What now, Captain Bligh?”
Jack hadn’t thought it through that far. “Now we…swim back to the boat? Go home, finish what we started after we’re behind closed doors?”
It didn’t feel like a satisfying plan, and Sawyer’s pained expression told him that he agreed. But he didn’t argue, he just struck off for the boat, leaving Jack to follow in his wake.
The trip home was short and silent. The look on Sawyer’s face when he steered the boat to shore told Jack that the happiness he’d felt earlier had ebbed away like the ocean tide. If his abrupt, perturbed movements as he tied the boat to the dock were any indication, they would not be picking up where they’d left off when they got back to the house. Jack had ruined Sawyer’s day and Sawyer would spend the evening in a bad mood, no matter that the sight of him lowering the sails, muscles working under the wet white t-shirt that was now almost transparent, was improving Jack’s mood immensely. He moved to the stern of the boat and scanned the horizon. “It’s gone,” he said.
“’Scuse me?” Sawyer slung his wet hair back and glanced over his shoulder in the direction of Jack’s gaze.
“The boat. It’s gone.”
“You sure?”
“Get me the binoculars.”
The sun was dipping low, kissing the water and turning it to gold. Nothing as far as the eye could see but empty shoreline, glittering waves, flame-colored sky. “Yeah. We’re alone.”
“Well ain’t that nice.” Sawyer climbed over the gunwale and hit the dock with a thud. His body language said it all, sailboat sex was no longer on today’s agenda. Jack sighed and gathered up his things, sunglasses, discarded shirt, a bottle of suntan oil, the cooler of beer. He watched Sawyer trudge across the beach toward the house and he cursed under his breath, feeling like a killjoy. He was responsible for erasing the look of easy contentment from Sawyer’s face, for reminding him that he was essentially a prisoner in his own home. He knew he’d done the right thing by putting the brakes on their public display of passion, but why did doing the right thing always make him feel so damned bad?
“Sawyer! Stop.”
Sawyer stopped but didn’t turn around as Jack hurried toward him. Dropping his things in the sand, Jack put a hand on his shoulder and wrapped the other one around his waist from behind. “I’m sorry.”
Sawyer shrugged. “Nothin’ to apologize for, Doc. It ain’t your fault.”
Jack buried his face in Sawyer’s hair, parting the wet strands and skimming his lips over the cool, damp skin of Sawyer’s neck. It was one of Sawyer’s most sensitive spots, and Jack felt a little shiver go through him as he sucked and licked. Jack slid his hands down Sawyer’s abdomen, pushing the wet fabric of his t-shirt up as his other hand traveled lower, over bare, moist skin, to dip just below the waistband of Sawyer's jeans. Sawyer sighed and leaned back against him heavily. Jack arched his hips, one small thrust to let Sawyer feel Jack’s need through the layers of wet denim between them.
He bent his legs behind Sawyer’s and at the same time shoved him forward, forcing him onto his knees in the sand.
“Jack, what –“
With his arms tight around Sawyer’s waist, his chest flush against the hard flat planes of his back, Jack lowered his head and ran his tongue along the curve of skin where neck met shoulder, feeling goose bumps rise against his tongue. “It’s just us,” he said, low and urgent. “Just us and the ocean and the sand and the sky, and I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll forget there’s anybody else in the whole world.”
Sawyer fell forward onto his outstretched arms, burying his fists in the sand. “There’s nobody else I give a damn about, Doc,” he said. “Just you.”
Fumbling with the button of Sawyer’s jeans, Jack raised his head, pressed his nose just behind his left ear, caught his earlobe between his lips and sucked. Sawyer’s hair smelled like the sea, and he tasted like tears. The button beneath his fingers finally released and Jack slid his hand inside, over Sawyer’s erection, the taut skin hot against the cold damp cloth. He closed his fingers around the swollen head and pumped him with long slow strokes, and soon he felt a different kind of moisture, this time slick and warm. “You want this,” Jack murmured against his ear. “You want it bad. You want me, right here, right now. Tell me you want it.”
“I want it, Jack. Need it. Need you. Just you. Now.”
Now. The demand went straight to Jack’s cock, and he let go of the t-shirt and sat back, grasping the waistband of Sawyer's jeans. He tugged, pushed the wet denim over his hips, down his thighs, and he fumbled in the sand beside him for the suntan oil as he took in the sight of Sawyer on his hands and knees before him, exposed, waiting. Demanding all of Jack’s attention, now.
He squeezed the oil onto his fingers until they were dripping, little drops falling onto the sand and glistening against the golden skin of Sawyer’s lower back. He braced one hand against Sawyer’s shoulder and slid the other over the tight, rounded curve of his ass and down, curling his fingers around his balls, squeezing lightly. He pressed the heel of his hand against the sensitive spot just behind them and then, when Sawyer’s moans began to take on a frustrated edge, he dragged his fingers back, along the crack of his ass, and finally he pushed one slick finger deep inside.
Sawyer rocked back against Jack’s hand. “Yeah, that’s good, that’s so good. Touch me. God, please, touch me.” He couldn’t touch himself, Jack realized, not with sandy hands, and he moved his left hand down and around. His own neglected cock throbbed and strained in the confinement of his sodden jeans, aching, begging for attention, but Jack continued to work Sawyer, one hand tight and pulsing around his erection and the other one cupped around his ass. He slid first one finger and then two against just the right spot, stroking the place that made Sawyer gasp and buck and curse. “Fuck, Jack, yes. Don’t stop, god, it’s so good, don’t stop…Jack, please, ah, so good, fuck me….” On and on Jack caressed him with firm, slow strokes, both inside and out, loving the way Sawyer arched back against him, loving the sounds he made, loving the fact that Sawyer had abandoned himself to Jack so completely. “Fuck, Jack, I need…so good, oh god, it burns please please oh god so good, Jesus, fuck, please…stop, Jack. I mean it, stop now, I’m….” He throbbed once, hard, against Jack’s palm and Jack quickly grabbed the base of his cock and squeezed, cutting off his orgasm, making him groan with both frustration and relief.
They stayed that way, motionless, for a long minute. When Jack was sure he’d pulled Sawyer back from the brink, he let him go and pulled away, breathing hard. “Just gonna slow down now, okay? I need a minute to catch up.” He reached for his zipper – finally, release from the confines of his cold tight prison – and pushed his jeans down off of his hips. His cock sprang free, slick and ready and hard as iron. He pushed the white t-shirt aside and thrust up hard against Sawyer’s back, reaching for himself, pressing down with the heel of his hand, rubbing the sensitive underside of his cock against Sawyer’s smooth tanned skin, across the deep indentations in the skin just above his ass. He fumbled in the sand for the bottle, and poured a thick stream of oil onto them both, and now he could slide against that skin, working himself with his hand all the while. He gripped Sawyer’s shoulder with his free hand to hold himself steady, and beneath his fingers he could feel the tremors of arousal and anticipation that shook the other man’s body.
“Jack….” Sawyer leaned heavily on his arms, his head hanging low between his shoulder blades, water-darkened strands of hair falling into his eyes. “Hurry. I need –“
“Yeah. Me too.” With one last hard thrust into his palm, he pulled back and gripped Sawyer’s hips. He positioned himself at Sawyer’s entrance and pushed, and Sawyer pushed back, opening for him, drawing him in. His first thrust was slow, steady, paced to give Sawyer time to relax for him, to adjust. He released Sawyer’s hip with one hand and fisted it in his hair. He pulled Sawyer’s head back and lowered his mouth, going to work on the back of his neck, licking, sucking, nipping at him as the friction below intensified and the heat flared.
Jack could feel it in every part of his body, the wild sweet burn of arousal, the fierce building need. With one deep thrust he buried himself in Sawyer, and Sawyer shoved back against him hard and gasped, “Touch me now, Jack, make me come, fuck need to come so bad, please….”
He’d gotten Sawyer so worked up that there was no way this could last very long, and Jack didn’t tease him, didn’t make him wait, he reached around and gripped his cock tightly, feeling it jerk and throb against his palm. “I can feel it,” he growled against Sawyer’s ear, “I can feel how bad you need to come, I’m gonna make you come, you feel that?” He changed the angle of his thrusts so that he was no longer just brushing past the right spot but was pushing into it directly, and Sawyer cried out, his entire body going stiff. “I need to feel you come, you’re so ready, please, come for me….” He thrust into him again and again, the angle just right, and the tone of Sawyer’s groans changed, became frantic and Jack groaned with him, saying his name, saying words that weren’t words at all but just primal sounds of need, and then Sawyer shoved back against him hard and his cock pulsed in Jack’s hand and he shouted Jack’s name, and he came, spurt after spurt after spurt erupting from his body and raining down onto the sand.
It was too much for Jack, the feel of Sawyer’s body spasming around him, the sound of his cries of release, the sight of him writhing on his knees in the sand. He lost all sense of rhythm, of finesse, of control. His thrusts became jerky, uncoordinated – harder, deeper, faster – as he raced toward completion, heart pounding, sweat breaking out on his bare chest and soaking into Sawyer’s shirt, one hand wrapped around Sawyer’s still-swollen cock and the fingers of the other still twisting convulsively in his hair. “Now,” he gasped, feeling as if there wasn’t enough air in his body, wasn’t enough air in the world, he was going to pass out, he was going to die if he didn’t come now. He felt the pull low in his belly, felt it travel straight to his cock, to his balls as they tightened, and he swelled and hardened even more inside of Sawyer and he heard Sawyer’s voice, breathless and gravelly with sated passion -- oh, fuck Jack, yeah -- and he shattered, losing himself in one white-hot burst after another until he’d lost the ability to see, lost the ability to hear, lost the ability to do anything but feel. And all he could feel was Sawyer.
When he began to regain his senses he found himself leaning bonelessly against Sawyer’s back, his head resting in the crook of Sawyer’s neck, his fingers still tangled in Sawyer’s hair. He tried to speak but all that came out was a low, replete moan.
“You okay, Doc?”
In answer, Jack slid his hand around to cup Sawyer’s chin, and he turned his face to the side so that Jack could look into his eyes. They gazed at each other as Jack’s vision cleared and his world, his whole world, swam back into focus. “I see you,” he said.
He saw a brief flicker of uncertainty, and he went on, “You think I don’t. You think everybody in the world is looking at you, that everybody else notices you, everybody but me.” Sawyer’s gaze wavered, and Jack knew he’d gotten it right. “You let everybody in the world look at you, but you don’t let them see you. I see you, Sawyer. I just wanted you to know.”
And in Sawyer’s eyes, a ghost. The ghost of the man who didn’t believe he was worthy of love, the man who didn’t believe he was worthy of Jack. “Then why don’t you hate me?”
Jack smiled, a brief little half-rueful smile. "I guess it's all a matter of perspective. I've failed at a lot of things in my life. But the thing I failed at most was hating you." He rested his forehead against Sawyer's. "Turns out, that's not a failure at all."
End
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-07-01 04:32 am (UTC)“I see you,” he said softly.
He saw a brief flicker of uncertainty, and he went on, “You think I don’t. You think everybody in the world is looking at you, that everybody else notices you, everybody but me.” Sawyer’s gaze wavered, and Jack knew he’d gotten it right. “You let everybody in the world look at you, but you don’t let them see you. I see you, Sawyer. I just wanted you to know.”
I love this and I love you and you did an amazing job.. :D
no subject
Date: 2006-07-01 09:11 pm (UTC)I love fics where they stay together in the real world, too. Where they show that they're together by choice, not just by circumstance. Thank you so much for loving it!
no subject
Date: 2006-07-01 05:26 am (UTC)Gorgeous, steamy, lovely writing. Love Sawyer the sailing hero, saved everybody.
I also loved how you worked all the recent photo spreads of Josh into the story. Especially that pic of him above, wet white T-shirt, on his knees, in the sand, um, GUH!!!! perfect for your fic.
Hotness AND sweetness, the recurring rhythm of failing to hate leading up to that perfect ending.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-01 09:14 pm (UTC)Thank you for reading, and thank you for liking! *hug*
no subject
Date: 2006-07-01 05:36 am (UTC)Sorry. Anyway, I was all excited about shameless porn, then you had to go and put so much fucking plot into it. :) Seriouely, teh sex was gorgeous and meaningful, but this story was about Sawyer, plain and simple, and you did such a nice job with him. His love-hate relationship with the paparazzi--dead on. It's interesting to see Sawyer as the hero who craves the attention, but it's a dead-end of bad self-esteem. I also love how Jack hates boats and gets frustrated with Sawyer's stupid paparazzi crap (shoving him off the boat--brilliant plot point, real), but he can't and won't cut and run. There's no sense that he'd even consider that, so strong is their bond. It's just simply something he has to endure to be with Sawyer. You did a nice job with Jack here, frsutrated with himself for being the responsible one.
I hate when I can't think of anything articulate to say about a story because it's so tightly and neatly written. I don't mean that in a bad way AT ALL. You've realistically captured their dynamic here, but you've dosed it with the fire and camaraderie that we expect from their relationship. And you managed to get in some excellent fangirl moments, some that I can probably predict what pictures you were working from. :)
*squishes you*
no subject
Date: 2006-07-01 09:18 pm (UTC)It's interesting to see Sawyer as the hero who craves the attention, but it's a dead-end of bad self-esteem.
And I think that's almost canon, too, because Sawyer does crave attention and he does long to be a hero, but when he gets what he wants he hides from it. Such a tangled psyche, he has. That's why I love him. ;)
Hee, even Jack's a fangirl. *pets him*
I'm emailing you tonight. ♥
no subject
Date: 2006-07-01 05:50 am (UTC)I still just love the ending. For some reason this time it all struck me from Sawyer's view -- that he thinks Jack doesn't see him is the whole reason he's with Jack. Jack's not the adoring public, and that's what Sawyer needs, absolutely. From both sides of Sawyer's issues. He needs it because he thinks he's punishing himself or something; and he needs it because it's real, and it's the only way he's ever going to be whole.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-01 09:25 pm (UTC)There are not enough thank yous in the world to tell you how much all your help means to me. And that ^^^ was GREAT insight into Sawyer. I kind of think that Sawyer's preening and hero-posturing in public is a case of hiding-in-plain-sight -- he wears the persona as a mask to hide who he really believes himself to be. But Jack sees through the mask and accepts him anyway. Good boy, Jack!
♥ ♥ ♥
no subject
Date: 2006-07-01 06:55 am (UTC)I don't know if this was, as you say, the porniest thing you've written, but it was deliciously porny, no doubt about that. Which makes me a happy girl, especially when it's so well done, perfectly paced, and full of emotion and just enough backstory to make us care about the characters, so it's not just two hot guys fucking, not that there's anything wrong with that, but it's so much better when we care.
And hot. Really hot. Yum. Love the image of Sawyer in the sand, of course, that image is burned into my brain, but now the image you created is superimposed, and yes, I must say, I greatly prefer your version, even tho the original was pretty magnificent. And I love the sex talk, oh it's such a weakness of mine, I totally fall for it every time, but this was just perfect and real, and raw and showed their connection, their need. Which brings me to what I think is the strongest thing about this fic, which is the way you portrayed the need between them, how deep and unshakeable and primal their connection is, despite the mundanity and the weirdness of their everyday lives.
And finally, I liked the way you set this, a different sort of futurefic, hints of RPS, incorporating all those photos. It sets this fic apart, makes it different from others I've read.
I have to say, when you said "sailboat pron" this was not what I pictured. It's better. Thanks for writing it.
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Date: 2006-07-01 09:41 pm (UTC)Thank you for saying that! I'm so glad that came across in this fic.
And I love the sex talk, oh it's such a weakness of mine,
And thank you for saying THAT, because I have a confession. I was a sex-talk virgin 'til this fic. I mean, I'd use a word or two, but nothing like that, and it freaked me out that Sawyer was insisting on running his filthy mouth! Heehee! That's why I said this was the dirtiest fic I've ever written. I'm glad that's okay! *smooch*
Which brings me to what I think is the strongest thing about this fic, which is the way you portrayed the need between them, how deep and unshakeable and primal their connection is,
That's how I was seeing them, as being unable to go their separate ways, in spite of their different ways of life. They'll make it work somehow, regardless.
Thank you for reading, and thanks a million for the wonderful feedback!
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Date: 2006-07-01 09:44 am (UTC)I think the choice to have Sawyer suck-up then be hounded by press attention was a really good idea in looking at all his issues, without really mentioning them. The porn was so, so hot, and I hate that I don't have anything really constructive to say about this, but I just adored it - gah, one of your best, I think.
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Date: 2006-07-01 09:55 pm (UTC)Just knowing that you adored it is enough to make me grin like an idiot. I ♥ you for reading, and I ♥ you for liking!
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Date: 2006-07-01 10:02 am (UTC)A world of GUH. And Awwww. *makes whimpering sounds*
That was lovely, and delicious, and wet-dream-inducing and angsty all at once; I love it when I get half a dozen different emotions out of a fic!
Sawyer had the whole world’s attention, but the only attention he cared about was Jack’s.
*dreamy sigh* So true.
they could take photos with their telephoto lenses from as much as half a mile away. And of course that made me giggle ;) it was definitely worth all the research!!
*loves madly*
Thanks for the best start in the weekend ever!
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Date: 2006-07-01 10:00 pm (UTC)Squee! I love it that you're so enthusiastic about the fic! *loves you back madly*
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Date: 2006-07-01 02:59 pm (UTC)I'm with
And what a good plot it is. I love the idea of fame and the flattery of the press feeding into Sawyer's self-loathing issues. And Jack knowing that he's pretty much about to self-destruct, even if he doesn't know it himself. *pets*
It is not...that other thing you're gonna think it is. Really. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. *runs like hell*
You're hilarious. You know I *like* that other thing, right? The one we're not allowed to talk about? ;)
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Date: 2006-07-01 10:05 pm (UTC)Jack's seen it happen before, on the Island. And this is so much more...Sawyer could really implode and do something horrible if Jack wasn't there to hold him together. So really, Jack IS being a hero, even if *he* doesn't know it. *hugs Jack*
*hugs you*
*maintains innocence*
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Date: 2006-07-01 04:13 pm (UTC)This was just fantastic. I know it might be redundant for me to comment upon how great it is to have so much emotion and finely written detail to back up the pr0n, because others have already commented on it and done so with far more eloquency, but really, it's amazing. Everything means so much more, is so much better, with all that you have put behind it.
Sawyer in the sand...I can't wrap my mind around words to comment on that. My brain melts just thinking of it. That scene was so hot that the sun was jealous.
How Sawyer deals with fame and how Jack does, the way Sawyer embraced it at first and then began avoiding the paparazzi, Sawyer's love for the beach, the ocean, and how opposite Jack feels from that yet he deals with all of that just so he can be close to Sawyer...you did a really good job. I loved that Sawyer and Penny Widmore formed a bond; I thought that was a great unique touch, as was Sawyer just going off on the boat without telling anyone the second they got back and being the one to find rescue. It's exactly the kind of impulsive reckless thing that Sawyer would do because he figures, y'know, at best he'll get them rescued, at worst he'll die, and neither option really bothered him much.
“I see you,” he said.
He saw a brief flicker of uncertainty, and he went on, “You think I don’t. You think everybody in the world is looking at you, that everybody else notices you, everybody but me.” Sawyer’s gaze wavered, and Jack knew he’d gotten it right. “You let everybody in the world look at you, but you don’t let them see you. I see you, Sawyer. I just wanted you to know.”
And in Sawyer’s eyes, a ghost. The ghost of the man who didn’t believe he was worthy of love, the man who didn’t believe he was worthy of Jack. “Then why don’t you hate me?”
Jack smiled, a brief little half-rueful smile. "I guess it's all a matter of perspective. I've failed at a lot of things in my life. But the thing I failed at most was hating you." He rested his forehead against Sawyer's. "Turns out, that's not a failure at all."
That was absolutely perfect. As was the whole story, really! Thank you so much; we're all spoiled rotten by your awesome talent and lucky to get to read your fic.
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Date: 2006-07-01 10:14 pm (UTC)That's it exactly. He'd figure he had nothing to lose. And he's usually the pragmatic one -- while Jack flails around trying to make everybody cooperate with his plans, Sawyer just handles things his own way. That's one of the (many) things that makes their dynamic so fascinating.
And awww, all that praise made me BLUSH! You are so sweet, and you know I adore you, right? *BIG hugs*
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Date: 2006-07-01 05:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-01 10:16 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you liked it! Thanks for reading. :D
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Date: 2006-07-01 05:46 pm (UTC)Mmmmmm :D
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Date: 2006-07-01 10:17 pm (UTC)and hee, they ARE awfully damn cute, arent' they? ;)
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-07-01 06:28 pm (UTC)LOVE it, babe! The porn was tres hot and I absolutley adore Sawyer being the hero - it just seems like it would be something he would do with no warning, but out of kindness (not that he'd admit it), not as a way of TRYING for fame. I love how you worked in Penelope as well, and for him to have the boat...it seems so fitting.
Plus, visuals! *licks* and tasted like tears!
*draws hearts around the boys and YOU*
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Date: 2006-07-01 10:21 pm (UTC)I just had a strong visual of Jack trying to organize stuff and nobody cooperating, and Sawyer watching it all in disgust and saying, "Screw this, I'm outta here." He knew the way "out" because he heard what Henry said to Michael, so I can see him just pragmatically taking charge like that. He's not exactly the world's biggest fan of Jack's leadership skills. ;)
*hearts you to pieces*
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Date: 2006-07-01 07:41 pm (UTC)"I guess it's all a matter of perspective.I've failed at a lot of things in my life.But the thing I failed at most was hating you." He rested his forehead against Sawyer's."Turns out, that's not a failure at all."
What a lovely and creative way to say "I love you!"
♥
Fics from you are worth to wait for:)Sooooo good,I'm speechless.
I'm a sucker for a after-rescue AU and my favorites are the ones,when they end up together and here they're in established relationship,living together,not alone or miserable......love this so much:)
I can see Sawyer becoming a huge celebrity,and Jack going back to his Doctor duties.And Penelope-Sawyer-is a very interesting detail.
He didn’t have the luxury of spending hours on end mesmerized by magazine photos.
Jack is not like us,huh?;)What the hell is he whining about,he has the real thing!;)
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Date: 2006-07-01 10:25 pm (UTC)Thank you! Yes, it's a "manly" way to say it! A way that wouldn't squick either one of them.
Jack is not like us,huh?
HA! Remember when I randomly posted, "Jack, thy name is Mary Sue"? I'd just written that part, lol. Jack is SUCH a fangirl. *cackles madly*
I love you for loving this! And for a zillion other reasons as well! *hug*
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-07-01 09:35 pm (UTC)First, my favorite part was the repetion of Jack's inability to hate him. So real and so simple, but so so effective.
And the details of rescue are brilliant and believable. I especially liked that Penelope was in there, and that Sawyer was struggling with fame - so original. But what really got me was the emotional thread through the whole thing. So much more than the sailboat porn - and I was incredibly excited about that anyway. They just seem to need what the other person can provide and you express that beautifully.
And having the photospread in people was just genius. Actually being able to picture it (and Sawyer in the sand later...that too) made the whole thing seem even more real. Lovely and emotional and absolutely perfect. And I love that you're gonna cross post later, I'll just read it then too!
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Date: 2006-07-01 10:33 pm (UTC)I'm glad that came across in this fic. I love it when one of them is in danger of falling apart and the other has to hold them together. I guess that's why I write it so often. ;) But their dynamic just seems to be *made* for that.
I'm so glad you liked this! I was working on it when I beta'ed yours, and I thought, oh no! Mine is so lame compared to this! So thank you for the wonderful feedback, that means a lot to me. ♥
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-07-02 12:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-02 05:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-02 02:43 am (UTC)I see you, Sawyer. I just wanted you to know.”
And in Sawyer’s eyes, a ghost. The ghost of the man who didn’t believe he was worthy of love, the man who didn’t believe he was worthy of Jack. “Then why don’t you hate me?”
Awwwwww, Sawyer. <3
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Date: 2006-07-02 05:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-02 11:09 am (UTC)And interrupted sex.....yummmy.
But mostly I love how you show the combination of love for another and living with their annoyances that so defines established relationships.
Niiiiice!
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Date: 2006-07-02 05:23 pm (UTC)I saw you'd friended. I'll friend back!
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-07-02 12:35 pm (UTC);)
YAY, sailboat pr0n!
But it's so much more than that; I love love love both Sawyer and Jack here, and I especially loved Jack getting it - knowing all those eyes are on Sawyer but Jack is the only one who really sees him.
And loved the continuing theme of Jack failing miserably at hating Sawyer.
And, of course, the hot was WAY hot.
*fans self*
And in Sawyer’s eyes, a ghost. The ghost of the man who didn’t believe he was worthy of love, the man who didn’t believe he was worthy of Jack. “Then why don’t you hate me?”
Jack smiled, a brief little half-rueful smile. "I guess it's all a matter of perspective. I've failed at a lot of things in my life. But the thing I failed at most was hating you." He rested his forehead against Sawyer's. "Turns out, that's not a failure at all."
*sniffle*
I'm a sentimental fool.
*more sniffling*
Loved this, love YOU.
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Date: 2006-07-02 05:20 pm (UTC)LOL! And I love you for it! *glomps you sentimentally*
Did you see how many people commented on the Penelope connection? That's all thanks to YOU! You're so brilliant, and I'm so glad you gave me that plot point. It makes all kinds of sense, but I never would have thought of it on my own.
I've got a big goofy smile on my face now, knowing you read it and liked it. Thank you thank you thank you! ♥ ♥ ♥
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Date: 2006-07-02 07:43 pm (UTC)I saw your comment and had to rush and read it...
this is a magnificent piece of work! of course the smutt is extremely hot, but the characterization is dead on too. Love Jack being unable to hate Sawyer (or course) but hating everything relating to the island or his celebrity. The end is perfect.
woah, I am amazed that my name is attached to it. it's a great honor, thank you. you rock baby *smooches* ♥
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Date: 2006-07-02 09:58 pm (UTC)It's funny how comments sometimes make me see my own fic differently. I hadn't even realized that that was true, that Jack hates basically everything about life with Sawyer, but he lives that life anyway because he needs to be with Sawyer. Aw, Sawyer better be extra-nice to him for that! *contemplates sequel*
I'm SO, SO happy that you liked it! You said you'd be happy with either dark!fic or pr0n, but I wanted to give you something happy for your birthday. Eep, sorry it was so late!
I hope your vacation is going wonderfully. I'm so glad you checked your LJ and found your fic! ♥
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Date: 2006-07-03 12:32 am (UTC)"man room"gym in the garage? Huh?Damnation at being the absolute last to squeee. Everything has already been said, no doubt better than I could have said it, so I will just leave the smart-ass comment above and *bounce* all the way back to the beginning, to start reading all over again.
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Date: 2006-07-03 02:20 am (UTC)So glad you liked it! *squee!* Thank you SO much!
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Date: 2006-07-03 01:06 am (UTC)I'm not sure if Sawyer is really vain, or if it's just part of who he had to be, like it was part of his job to always look good to bring in the money, something that at some point down the line became a part of him. I don't know if Sawyer is partially playing the celebrity game as a way to convince himself, and more importantly, Jack, that he's worthy, to make himself visible and important before Jack's eyes. I mean, he poses for Jack, he teases Jack, he needs Jack's attention like nobody else's.
Oh, the hotness! I loved the part of Jack rubbing himself against Sawyer's back. Those dimples have been severely underused in fic, in my humble opinion.
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Date: 2006-07-03 02:26 am (UTC)Those dimples have been severely underused in fic, in my humble opinion.
I KNOW! I've used them twice (once in a Skate, and here), and though I've seen them mentioned plenty of times, I don't think I've ever seen them properly...used...by Jack! Well, somebody had to do it.
Thank you so much! *loves you LOTS*
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Date: 2006-07-06 05:34 pm (UTC)Thank you for reading, and thank you for liking! ♥
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Date: 2006-07-04 06:58 am (UTC)But it's the sweetness here that really got me. Awwww!
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Date: 2006-07-06 05:43 pm (UTC)Heh, it was a defense mechanism. If you only knew what I'm doing to poor Sawyer in the fic I'm working on now, you'd see why I had to give him some TLC!
And Paris Hilton, LOL! That's how I was envisioning Sawyer as I wrote this, as someone who was ridiculously famous for being famous. I think he'd totally have a love-hate relationship with fame.
I'm so glad you liked it! *hug*
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Date: 2006-07-04 02:13 pm (UTC)I love that Sawyer saved them all and that he's the hero, not Jack. And that Jack understands the whole hero thing, the pressure of it, but understands more that after hero come anti-hero, and he wants to be around for Sawyer when that happens. All the pressure that Sawyer's under though, not being able to have a normal life, being a prisoner in his own home, him and Jack having to keep their relationship a secret, not being able to just be together. The whole thing on the boat was just painful, when they knew they were being watched and they couldn't just be themselves, couldn't just enjoy their afternoon.
Then the sex was just hotness, but there was so much underneath all that, so many feelings and so much subtext behind the act. And I loved Jack just really making it all about Sawyer, giving him all his attention, making it up to him but communicating so much more than that at the same time, showing him, or perhaps proving to him, how deep it goes between the two of them.
And then the end, the whole 'I see you' thing, loved that. The difference between looking and seeing, how Jack's the only one who really knows him and how Sawyer kind of doesn't like that, doesn't like anyone knowing him, doesn't like being bare like that in front of Jack. And the whole thread that ran all the way through about Jack trying to hate Sawyer but not managing it, and Sawyer not understanding why he doesn't, and Jack not really understanding it either, but both of them accepting it, really loved how you brought that all together at the end, really well constructed.
Also, love the detail about Penelope paying off Sawyer's debts because he got Desmond back for her. Really nice.
Awesome work, glad to see the writing muse back, I know you've been having problems with it, but this was well worth the wait, so happy you finally kicked it's ass and got it done. Hope to see more from you soon.
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Date: 2006-07-06 05:52 pm (UTC)I'm sorry I was distracted by trip to see Les Miz on your birthday, but there will be birthday fic eventually. My muse is slow as molasses! I hope your day was totally wonderful. ♥
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Date: 2006-07-04 07:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-06 05:55 pm (UTC)You're gonna kill me for what I'm about to do in my next fic. *hides*
I'm so glad you liked this! Thank you thank you thank you. *smooch!*