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Lostfic: The Ninth Life, J/S NC-17
Title: The Ninth Life
Characters: Jack/Sawyer
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
A/N: To defy the gloomy LJ rumors, here's some lighthearted, porny fic to brighten the mood
Disclaimer: Only mine in my dreams
The Ninth Life
“So, wanna know what you were in your last life, Doc?” Sawyer asked the question a little bit desperately, because he was running out of things to say and, no matter what a brilliant conversationalist he might’ve believed himself to be, Jack just wasn’t in a chatty mood tonight.
He proved it by bellowing, “Shut the hell UP, Sawyer! No more games. Ow!”
His hand went to his temple, and he realized that he’d hurt himself more by yelling at Sawyer than Sawyer had done all night with his constant yammering. At least Sawyer’s voice was mellow.
“This was your idea, remember?” Sawyer looked at him peevishly over the top of his glasses. “’Talk to me,’ you said, ‘don’t let me fall asleep no matter what,’ that’s what you said, so that’s what I’m doing, keepin’ you awake. But I can’t talk to myself all night, you gotta hold up your end of the conversation.” Jack muttered his opinion, which wasn’t very sociable at all, and Sawyer threw his book down in frustration. “I’m just followin’ doctor’s orders here, Jackass.” Then his eyes took on the devilish gleam that so often followed one of his fits of temper. “Or should I call you Muffin?”
Jack scowled and rubbed his head, winced, and said defensively. “I think Muffin Macedonia is a perfectly good porn star name, not that I’d ever consider being a porn star. Now you, you’re a born porn star…Rocky.”
Sawyer’s grumpy look vanished completely and for an instant he beamed. “Rocky Ridgeview ain’t such a bad name, it’s kinda poetic, don’t ya think? And hell yeah I’d’ve made a great porn star, getting’ paid for doin’ it with hot babes…wait. That’s pretty much what I did before, anyway.”
“What were you, a gigolo or something? Never mind, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.”
Sawyer snorted and good-naturedly agreed. “Fair enough. You won’t help me figure out what you were in your last life, so I ain’t gonna tell you what I was in this one, sound like a plan?”
“Sounds good,” Jack said, then he rubbed his head again and yawned.
“You sure you can’t go on to sleep, Doc?” Sawyer kicked listlessly at the fallen book. “We done every quiz in there except for the ones you were too cranky to do—“
Jack huffed, “I think I was a damn good sport! We did the porn star name quiz and the ‘How Kinky Are You’ one –“
“You so lied on that.”
“—and I let you tell me what color my aura is – what was it again? Violet. And yours is orange. See, I have been paying attention. I even let you do my zodiac chart.”
“Not the fun part,” Sawyer complained. He sounded genuinely disappointed. “How come you don’t want to know what your compatibilities are?”
Jack sighed, exasperated. “I’m not superstitious, Sawyer. And maybe I just don’t feel like being that shallow on a day when we both almost died.”
At the reminder, Sawyer slid to his knees in the sand and aimed the beam of his flashlight at the wound on Jack’s head. “It ain’t bleedin’ anymore,” he said, his voice suddenly brusque. He seemed terribly uncomfortable with the idea of Jack being weak or injured, which was kind of ironic considering the number of times Jack had looked after an ailing Sawyer. Sawyer always treated his own illnesses with almost cocky indifference, but Jack’s run-in with death seemed to have unnerved him a lot more than any of his own frequent brushes with it ever had.
Jack supposed that was why he felt the need to reassure Sawyer, even though it seemed backwards; shouldn’t Sawyer be comforting him? “I’ll live,” he said, aiming for a breezy tone. “The ringing in my ears stopped, the dizziness is almost gone, and I can’t see two of you anymore. Thank God,” he added under his breath. One Sawyer was enough for any man to have to bear. “Maybe it’d be okay to try to sleep, after all.”
Sawyer gave him a nervous look and said, “Yeah, well, good. But you sleep out here, okay, where I can keep an eye on you.”
Sawyer wasn’t going to sleep no matter what, Jack realized. He’d been a lot more shaken up by the accident this afternoon than he’d let on. His mother-hen attitude this evening – staying right by Jack’s side, reading to him from a book he’d borrowed from Claire, bringing him fruit and chocolate bars, pushing away Kate and the others who offered to help – told Jack that even if it made him uncomfortable, even if it made him feel beholden to Jack (a feeling that he hated more than almost anything) for saving Sawyer’s life yet again, Sawyer believed he owed Jack this.
But his self-sacrifice didn’t extend to him sleeping in Jack’s tent. That was above and beyond the call of duty and Jack agreed wholeheartedly, so Sawyer dragged his bedroll down the beach from his own tent and dropped it on the sand next to Jack's. “You just holler if you start feeling…you know, more concussed or anything,” he said, his hair falling into his eyes and his gaze deliberately not meeting Jack’s, and Jack thought that was just as well. Being friends wasn’t easy for either of them, not even now.
With Sawyer reading in the firelight beside him, Jack fell into a deep sleep but not a sound one. His dreams were a crazy-quilt of fractured images, memories swirling and overlapping in the time-jumbled way of dreams. They all shared a common theme, though – Sawyer’s death. Jack saw him die over and over again; in the plane crash, and when Sayid stabbed him in the arm, and the horrifying time when Sawyer was consumed by infection from his gunshot wound. In the way of dreams he saw himself transported into the scene as Sawyer knelt in the rain with a gun to his head, as if Jack had really been there instead of just hearing about it afterward from Kate. He’d had no idea, when he stood inside the Others’ operating room only yards away from Sawyer yet virtually helpless to save him, how very close he’d come to losing him that time. He’d just acted on instinct and a desperately-formed plan, and thankfully, it had been enough. And all the times since…somehow he’d managed to be there every time, just in time. It was only in his nightmares that he failed.
“Jack. Jack, wake up.” He came to with Sawyer crouched above him, his hair hanging down around his eyes in the moonlight, his face creased from worry and irritation and lack of sleep. “You’re doin’ it again, dreamin’.”
“No I wasn’t,” Jack told him. He’d never admit to the dreams. They made him feel helpless and weak, and that wasn’t the way he wanted Sawyer to see him, ever.
Sawyer sighed wearily. “You were hollerin’ about snakes again.”
“Shit.” Of all Sawyer’s near-death experiences, that one shook him up the most. And it only made it worse that it should have been expected, it should have been preventable; he should never have allowed anyone to go into the jungle barefoot like Sawyer made a habit of doing. It was probably inevitable that the man would get snake-bitten sometime, and like everything else in this crazy place, island snakes seemed to be worse than ordinary ones. In the time it had taken Juliet to run to the medical hatch and find an anti-venom kit, Sawyer’s leg had swollen to twice its normal size and he’d slipped away into unconsciousness while Jack looked helplessly on. But once he’d gotten the medicine in his veins he’d made a typical Sawyer recovery, speedy and snarky. He’d caught sight of the package that the anti-venom had come in and he’d howled in indignation, “You’ve been wantin’ one of these since we got to this island, ain’t you, Doc?”
The crisis was over, and Jack choked back a relieved and semi-hysterical laugh. He’d started to explain that that was the name of the standard snakebite kit used in every American emergency room – the Sawyer Extractor kit. But he knew Sawyer was just goading him. Sawyer knew, no matter how hard fate tried to “extract” Sawyer from this life on earth, Jack would intervene. “You always want to save me,” Sawyer had told him once, accusingly.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to kill you,” Jack had sniped back, and that pretty much summed up his confused feelings perfectly.
When he’d seen the VW bus hurtling toward Sawyer that afternoon he’d reacted on instinct, because that’s what saving Sawyer had become now, pure instinct. This time, though, for the first time, Jack paid a physical price – he’d managed to shove Sawyer to safety but he couldn’t get there himself before the broken, runaway bus struck him and hurled him into the air. They told him he was lucky that all he’d gotten were some cuts and bruises and a concussion. They told him he was lucky he wasn’t dead – the same words he’d said to Sawyer over and over again. For the first time since the crash, he’d gotten a taste of what that felt like.
“Sorry,” he told Sawyer now, embarrassed. “I shouldn’t be sleeping anyway, I need to get up and move around so my muscles don’t stiffen up.”
“Wanna go for a walk?” Sawyer said, starting to push himself off the ground. Jack pushed him back down. “No, you get some sleep,” he said. “I’ll be fine. Everything’s gonna be fine.”
********
He hadn’t walked far when he had to admit to himself that he wasn’t fine. His head was pounding, the world was spinning, and he felt like he was going to be sick. He looked around him and saw that he was alone on the beach, and he was almost relieved because Jack never, ever wanted anybody to see him sick or weak or vulnerable. So maybe it was a good thing that when the shore rose up to smack him in the face and he saw stars right before everything went black, no one was there to help him.
The next thing he knew, he was being shaken and yelled at. “Doc! Hey, Doc! Don’t you dare be dead. I’ll kill you if you’ve gone and died on me.” Sawyer sounded completely unhinged; his voice was cracking and he was mashing on Jack’s chest, probably trying to find a heartbeat but he wasn’t going to find it like that.
“Take my pulse,” Jack instructed him, and Sawyer jumped back, startled. “If you want to see if I’m dead or not you need to take my pulse, dumbass.”
“Doc,” he said, and there was a world of relief in his voice, which must’ve embarrassed him because then he yelled, “Don’t you call me a dumbass, you dumbass! You could’ve died out here – drowned or something – if I hadn’t come after you. And I don’t need to take your pulse because if you were dead you wouldn’t be all bossy and givin’ orders like you always do.” He pulled up one of Jack’s eyelids and peered into his eye, and Jack wondered what he was looking for. “You must be pretty damn sick, though, collapsin’ on the beach—“
“I didn’t collapse,” Jack lied. “I was just…resting. I must’ve gone to sleep.” He noticed that the tide was washing over his feet. It’d been much lower when he’d last seen it. “How long was I, uh, sleeping?”
Sawyer said, “I fell asleep outside your tent and when I woke up you weren’t there, and I waited and waited for you and you didn’t come back. So I came lookin’ for you, and here you were in a heap on the sand and the tide was comin’ in and you sure as hell weren’t asleep if you didn’t even know it. You were out cold. I prob’ly saved your life.”
Jack opened his eyes and looked at Sawyer, and his eyesight must’ve been just as scrambled as his brains because Sawyer looked like a god, the moonlight reflecting on his hair and his body, making him shine, and his eyes burning like the stars and boring into his as if he was trying to see straight into Jack’s soul.
“I was afraid I’d have to give you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation,” Sawyer was saying, and Jack interrupted him.
“You look sexy,” he heard himself say, proving once and for all that something was wrong with his brain; it had gone and disconnected itself from his mouth. “You can give me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation if you want.”
Startled, Sawyer sat back on his heels and blinked at Jack. “No way in hell,” he said. Then he paused for a minute. “I mean, it’s not like I never thought about kissin’ you before, all those times when I was nearly naked in bed and you were so close to me, hovering over me, but I figured you’d punch me—“
“I won’t punch you now,” Jack supplied helpfully, and Sawyer went on as if he hadn’t heard.
“And now you’re concussed and you don’t know what you’re sayin’—“
“I’m saying you can kiss me.”
“And if I kissed you now I’d be takin’ advantage of you.”
Jack solved the problem by sitting up and putting one arm around Sawyer’s neck, holding himself up as he pulled Sawyer in for a kiss. Sawyer’s lips were soft and pliant, in stark contrast to the rough stubble on his cheeks, and Jack was intrigued by both. He couldn’t help himself, he licked a path across that prickly stubble until he found the indentation of one of Sawyer’s dimples, and he dipped his tongue inside. He didn’t know if it was his concussion, or the fact that he was French-kissing Sawyer’s dimple, that made his head spin. But this time the headrush didn’t make him feel sick, it made him feel horny, so he moved a little and this time he French-kissed Sawyer’s mouth. Sawyer’s mouth was far more interesting than his dimple, for kissing purposes anyway – Sawyer’s mouth was hot and wet and it tasted like chocolate and mangoes, sweet as sin, and it was irresistible to Jack and he couldn’t help dipping his tongue in again and again, sliding it over and around Sawyer’s and going deeper with every thrust. And Sawyer didn’t try to stop him; in fact, if Jack wasn’t mistaken, Sawyer was sucking on Jack’s tongue and it sent an electric jolt straight to his groin and he pushed Sawyer backward in the sand and straddled him.
A wave broke nearby and droplets of water sprayed onto Sawyer’s hair and skin, and they sparkled in the moonlight like diamonds. Jack nodded and said, “You are a god. A sex-god, just like I thought. That means you have to have sex with me.”
Sawyer snorted and pushed him away and got to his feet, pulling Jack up after him. “Nice as it is to know that you like me all of a sudden,” he said, “It’s just because your brain is broken, and that kind of kills the mood, Cassanova.”
“I don’t like you,” Jack corrected him, “but you turn me on. You’ve always turned me on, it just took a good thump on the head to make me admit it. And I turn you on, too, you said so yourself. So why not; let’s do it.”
“Subtle, Jack,” Sawyer scoffed, but Jack must’ve convinced him, because he led Jack into the jungle, under the cover of vines and trees. Jack decided that in his condition things would work better if he was lying down, so he looked around and gathered up a few palm fronds to make an impromptu bed. Then he pulled Sawyer down and started to undo buttons and snaps, encouraged when Sawyer took the initiative to push the unwelcome clothes away. Jack’s clothes followed, and he was surprised and aroused to see that Sawyer was staring at his body in the moonlight just as hard as he was looking at Sawyer’s. He turned onto his side so that Sawyer could see him better, the hot desire in his eyes, the tattoos on his arm and his stiff cock jutting out toward Sawyer, hard and ready. This way made it easier to touch Sawyer, too, and so that’s what he did.
At first he touched him with just one finger, softly tracing his cheekbone, touching his mouth and letting Sawyer suck the finger inside and Jack felt it, another jolt to his cock, and he reluctantly pulled the finger back and circled its tip around a nipple that hardened at his touch, and then he went lower, to dip into Sawyer’s navel and lower still to his upward-straining cock. He rubbed the slit and found a drop of moisture there, and he spread it around on the head, around to that sensitive indentation on the underside that made Sawyer draw in a breath and unconsciously flex his hips, and up and down the tight skin below until Sawyer was flushed and gasping. Then he wrapped his hand around him and tightened it just enough to make Sawyer moan, and that made Jack moan, too.
Now he wasn’t feeling concussed in the least, he was focused and alert and he suspected that he’d played up the effect that the bump had had on his brain, just as an excuse to drop his inhibitions and demand things that they both wanted. His body was feeling sensations it hadn’t felt in a long time, things he’d wanted since the first time he’d touched Sawyer. He’d pulled him away from a fight with Sayid and felt him vibrating with passion spawned by anger, and he’d wondered if he’d writhe like that in the heat of passion spawned by lust. Now he found out that he did.
Jack pumped his cock a few times and Sawyer moaned on every stroke; he seemed to be even hornier than Jack was, if that was possible. He throbbed in Jack’s hand and he said, “You better stop that.” He moved Jack’s hand away and rolled on top of him. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at him, his hair falling like a curtain around them.
Jack reached up to push it out of his eyes and it was incredibly soft, so he began to stroke it and he could’ve sworn that Sawyer purred. “You like that, huh?” he said, and Sawyer said, “Mmmmmm.” Jack stroked down his neck and scratched behind his ears, and Sawyer laughed. “What’re you doin’?”
“You’re just like a cat,” he said, “And cats like it when you pet them and scratch behind their ears.”
“I’m a little big to be a cat, don’t ya think?” He pressed his body against Jack’s, chest to toe, proving that they were exactly the same size.
“A great big jungle cat,” Jack said. “Feral. You let me pet you, but you could turn on me and bite me any second.”
Sawyer lowered his head to the juncture of Jack’s neck and shoulder, and he bit. “Hey!” Jack yelped, but then Sawyer’s tongue was there and he laved and soothed and sucked on Jack’s neck, and Jack sighed and decided that Sawyer might not turn on him, but he sure was going to turn him on.
He lifted his hips so that his cock thrust against Sawyer’s, and Sawyer took the hint and reached down between them to draw them both together, tight, so tight, and his hand was warm and strong and he began to pump.
Jack closed his eyes and gave himself over to the feeling, Sawyer’s fingers moving over the underside of his cock, Sawyer’s hard shaft with its soft skin gliding over the top. That was good, so good that Jack wanted it to go on and on, but then Sawyer did something else, something wonderful; he rubbed the heads of both their cocks with his finger, making them both slick with their combined fluid, and Jack felt the burn all the way down to his toes. His cock throbbed and he sighed in pleasure.
Sawyer leaned in to kiss him, and his tongue emulated his thrusts down below, and now they were swallowing each other’s moans as wave after wave of heat consumed them. In the small space between them Jack’s hips bucked upward as Sawyer’s pushed down, and his hand squeezed tight as his strokes sped up and his moans became desperate gasps into Jack’s mouth, and Jack felt him swell and jerk against him, and Sawyer raised his face to the moonlight and cried out in ecstacy as he came. It went on and on and now his hand was slick and wet with his own come, and he didn’t let go of either of them as he kept up his rhythm, his fingers gliding over Jack’s dick now, and the aching burn was unbearably hot, unbearably sweet. Jack didn’t think he could take any more and with a shout he erupted, coming in thick streams all over Sawyer’s stomach and cock, his hips pumping fast and hard, Sawyer moving with him and making little whimpering sounds, as if Jack’s pleasure had re-ignited his own. Finally the waves receded and they both quieted and stilled, the only motion that of Jack’s hand in Sawyer’s hair, stroking and stroking and stroking.
“Y’know,” he murmured, “I’m glad I saved you. It’d be a shame to lose your hair. I think that saving your hair is my true calling in life. It’s my destiny. I think that when you do die, I’ll cut off your hair and keep it…maybe in a Ziploc bag.” Then he realized that he was starting to sound concussed again, so he shut up. Still, he silently renewed his vow to never let Sawyer die…if only for the hair. Yeah, just the hair and not for any of the other reasons that his out-of-control brain was stirring up. The hair was good enough reason all on its own to keep saving Sawyer.
It had grown chilly while they were wrapped up in each other and they hadn’t even noticed, but when they drew apart they both shivered. “Let’s get you back to camp,” Sawyer said. “If I’m gonna keep you up all night we should at least be warm.”
Jack started to tell him that he didn’t need to stay up all night, he was fine, sex had cured him, but then he thought the better of it. If a concussion made him see Sawyer in a new light, made him appreciate his beauty and his sexuality as he should have all along, then he wouldn’t mind staying concussed forever. Without a word he let Sawyer gather up his clothes for him and help him dress, and he didn’t argue at all when Sawyer put an arm around him to support him as they made their way back to camp. He could get used to this, being cared for by Sawyer. Especially if it included sex.
When they got back to Jack’s tent they pulled their pallets inside, “Just in case we have to do something naked again to keep you awake,” Sawyer said. Then he got the flashlight and checked the bruise on Jack’s head.
“It’s lookin’ better,” he said, and picked up the book he’d carried inside with them. “Want me to read to you some more?”
“Sure,” Jack said, figuring that they had some time to kill before Sawyer needed to do something naked to keep Jack awake. Sawyer put his glasses on and picked up the book. With a little sidewise grin, he began to read.
“Compatibilities,” he said. “You’re a Taurus and I’m a Leo, so here goes. ‘A fire sign plus an earth sign equals lava. This is an unusual combination of energies. Your ruling planets, Sun and Venus, are rather different: fire and earth, after all, are not generally too comfortable with each other. However, there is an obvious and immediate attraction between you.
This combination can be hot, as lava implies. There’s a natural magnetism, with a hunk of passion thrown in for good measure. Leo tends to bring out the romantic and sexual side of Taurus, all in a rush. This immediate attraction has something to do with Leo being the bright shining star and Taurus being the sensual, earthy sign of love.
There’s also a protective element associated with Leo.’” He stopped and grinned, and there was a hint of pride in that grin that Jack thought was sweet. “Lions provide for and nurture their clan. Taurus will be drawn to this. Yet when the lion gets a thorn in his paw, tenacious Taurus will always be there to pull it out. This combination engenders a mutual loyalty that, over time, can forge an unbreakable bond.
Socially you both display leadership qualities; unfortunately, you could be constantly competing with each other for the attention of the world. Keep an eye on this, because while it is fun for a while, it could deteriorate into a battle of wills and egos.
However, if you both take things one step at a time, and balance your crazy pleasure-seeking with some practical nurturing, this relationship could well be a permanent one.’" He choked a little and looked at Jack over the top of his glasses. “Permanent?”
“Uh…we can just figure that out as we go along, I guess,” Jack told him, and thought about the descriptions in the book, and how unnervingly accurate they’d been. It was just superstition. He didn’t believe in it, but he silently counted the lives Sawyer almost lost, anyway. The time Sawyer had told him about when his daddy came into his room intending to shoot him. The plane crash. The torture and near-fatal fight with Sayid. The gunshot wound. The day he knelt in the rain with a gun to his head. The snakebite. And all the others – Jack tallied them up silently. Then there was today’s bus accident…. Suddenly it hit him. A Leo was a cat, and legend had it that cats have nine lives. Sawyer had used up his nine lives before the accident today. That meant that anything that happened from now on would be for real, so Jack had better stick very close to be sure there wasn’t a next one. Just like today, when the bus had been bearing down on Sawyer and Jack had pushed him out of the way…only to be run down himself. With a sick chill, an idea came to him. Maybe the pattern was starting anew. Maybe now it was Jack’s turn to face his own nine lives. Did that mean it was Sawyer’s turn to be Jack’s savior? Could Sawyer be as heroic as Jack had always been? Well, Jack would just have to make sure that he was. And that Sawyer would stay alive to do the job. He vowed, right there in the sand with used and aching loins and a badly pounding head, that he would never let Sawyer out of his sight again.
After all, saving each other was their destiny.
End
Characters: Jack/Sawyer
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
A/N: To defy the gloomy LJ rumors, here's some lighthearted, porny fic to brighten the mood
Disclaimer: Only mine in my dreams
The Ninth Life
“So, wanna know what you were in your last life, Doc?” Sawyer asked the question a little bit desperately, because he was running out of things to say and, no matter what a brilliant conversationalist he might’ve believed himself to be, Jack just wasn’t in a chatty mood tonight.
He proved it by bellowing, “Shut the hell UP, Sawyer! No more games. Ow!”
His hand went to his temple, and he realized that he’d hurt himself more by yelling at Sawyer than Sawyer had done all night with his constant yammering. At least Sawyer’s voice was mellow.
“This was your idea, remember?” Sawyer looked at him peevishly over the top of his glasses. “’Talk to me,’ you said, ‘don’t let me fall asleep no matter what,’ that’s what you said, so that’s what I’m doing, keepin’ you awake. But I can’t talk to myself all night, you gotta hold up your end of the conversation.” Jack muttered his opinion, which wasn’t very sociable at all, and Sawyer threw his book down in frustration. “I’m just followin’ doctor’s orders here, Jackass.” Then his eyes took on the devilish gleam that so often followed one of his fits of temper. “Or should I call you Muffin?”
Jack scowled and rubbed his head, winced, and said defensively. “I think Muffin Macedonia is a perfectly good porn star name, not that I’d ever consider being a porn star. Now you, you’re a born porn star…Rocky.”
Sawyer’s grumpy look vanished completely and for an instant he beamed. “Rocky Ridgeview ain’t such a bad name, it’s kinda poetic, don’t ya think? And hell yeah I’d’ve made a great porn star, getting’ paid for doin’ it with hot babes…wait. That’s pretty much what I did before, anyway.”
“What were you, a gigolo or something? Never mind, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.”
Sawyer snorted and good-naturedly agreed. “Fair enough. You won’t help me figure out what you were in your last life, so I ain’t gonna tell you what I was in this one, sound like a plan?”
“Sounds good,” Jack said, then he rubbed his head again and yawned.
“You sure you can’t go on to sleep, Doc?” Sawyer kicked listlessly at the fallen book. “We done every quiz in there except for the ones you were too cranky to do—“
Jack huffed, “I think I was a damn good sport! We did the porn star name quiz and the ‘How Kinky Are You’ one –“
“You so lied on that.”
“—and I let you tell me what color my aura is – what was it again? Violet. And yours is orange. See, I have been paying attention. I even let you do my zodiac chart.”
“Not the fun part,” Sawyer complained. He sounded genuinely disappointed. “How come you don’t want to know what your compatibilities are?”
Jack sighed, exasperated. “I’m not superstitious, Sawyer. And maybe I just don’t feel like being that shallow on a day when we both almost died.”
At the reminder, Sawyer slid to his knees in the sand and aimed the beam of his flashlight at the wound on Jack’s head. “It ain’t bleedin’ anymore,” he said, his voice suddenly brusque. He seemed terribly uncomfortable with the idea of Jack being weak or injured, which was kind of ironic considering the number of times Jack had looked after an ailing Sawyer. Sawyer always treated his own illnesses with almost cocky indifference, but Jack’s run-in with death seemed to have unnerved him a lot more than any of his own frequent brushes with it ever had.
Jack supposed that was why he felt the need to reassure Sawyer, even though it seemed backwards; shouldn’t Sawyer be comforting him? “I’ll live,” he said, aiming for a breezy tone. “The ringing in my ears stopped, the dizziness is almost gone, and I can’t see two of you anymore. Thank God,” he added under his breath. One Sawyer was enough for any man to have to bear. “Maybe it’d be okay to try to sleep, after all.”
Sawyer gave him a nervous look and said, “Yeah, well, good. But you sleep out here, okay, where I can keep an eye on you.”
Sawyer wasn’t going to sleep no matter what, Jack realized. He’d been a lot more shaken up by the accident this afternoon than he’d let on. His mother-hen attitude this evening – staying right by Jack’s side, reading to him from a book he’d borrowed from Claire, bringing him fruit and chocolate bars, pushing away Kate and the others who offered to help – told Jack that even if it made him uncomfortable, even if it made him feel beholden to Jack (a feeling that he hated more than almost anything) for saving Sawyer’s life yet again, Sawyer believed he owed Jack this.
But his self-sacrifice didn’t extend to him sleeping in Jack’s tent. That was above and beyond the call of duty and Jack agreed wholeheartedly, so Sawyer dragged his bedroll down the beach from his own tent and dropped it on the sand next to Jack's. “You just holler if you start feeling…you know, more concussed or anything,” he said, his hair falling into his eyes and his gaze deliberately not meeting Jack’s, and Jack thought that was just as well. Being friends wasn’t easy for either of them, not even now.
With Sawyer reading in the firelight beside him, Jack fell into a deep sleep but not a sound one. His dreams were a crazy-quilt of fractured images, memories swirling and overlapping in the time-jumbled way of dreams. They all shared a common theme, though – Sawyer’s death. Jack saw him die over and over again; in the plane crash, and when Sayid stabbed him in the arm, and the horrifying time when Sawyer was consumed by infection from his gunshot wound. In the way of dreams he saw himself transported into the scene as Sawyer knelt in the rain with a gun to his head, as if Jack had really been there instead of just hearing about it afterward from Kate. He’d had no idea, when he stood inside the Others’ operating room only yards away from Sawyer yet virtually helpless to save him, how very close he’d come to losing him that time. He’d just acted on instinct and a desperately-formed plan, and thankfully, it had been enough. And all the times since…somehow he’d managed to be there every time, just in time. It was only in his nightmares that he failed.
“Jack. Jack, wake up.” He came to with Sawyer crouched above him, his hair hanging down around his eyes in the moonlight, his face creased from worry and irritation and lack of sleep. “You’re doin’ it again, dreamin’.”
“No I wasn’t,” Jack told him. He’d never admit to the dreams. They made him feel helpless and weak, and that wasn’t the way he wanted Sawyer to see him, ever.
Sawyer sighed wearily. “You were hollerin’ about snakes again.”
“Shit.” Of all Sawyer’s near-death experiences, that one shook him up the most. And it only made it worse that it should have been expected, it should have been preventable; he should never have allowed anyone to go into the jungle barefoot like Sawyer made a habit of doing. It was probably inevitable that the man would get snake-bitten sometime, and like everything else in this crazy place, island snakes seemed to be worse than ordinary ones. In the time it had taken Juliet to run to the medical hatch and find an anti-venom kit, Sawyer’s leg had swollen to twice its normal size and he’d slipped away into unconsciousness while Jack looked helplessly on. But once he’d gotten the medicine in his veins he’d made a typical Sawyer recovery, speedy and snarky. He’d caught sight of the package that the anti-venom had come in and he’d howled in indignation, “You’ve been wantin’ one of these since we got to this island, ain’t you, Doc?”
The crisis was over, and Jack choked back a relieved and semi-hysterical laugh. He’d started to explain that that was the name of the standard snakebite kit used in every American emergency room – the Sawyer Extractor kit. But he knew Sawyer was just goading him. Sawyer knew, no matter how hard fate tried to “extract” Sawyer from this life on earth, Jack would intervene. “You always want to save me,” Sawyer had told him once, accusingly.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to kill you,” Jack had sniped back, and that pretty much summed up his confused feelings perfectly.
When he’d seen the VW bus hurtling toward Sawyer that afternoon he’d reacted on instinct, because that’s what saving Sawyer had become now, pure instinct. This time, though, for the first time, Jack paid a physical price – he’d managed to shove Sawyer to safety but he couldn’t get there himself before the broken, runaway bus struck him and hurled him into the air. They told him he was lucky that all he’d gotten were some cuts and bruises and a concussion. They told him he was lucky he wasn’t dead – the same words he’d said to Sawyer over and over again. For the first time since the crash, he’d gotten a taste of what that felt like.
“Sorry,” he told Sawyer now, embarrassed. “I shouldn’t be sleeping anyway, I need to get up and move around so my muscles don’t stiffen up.”
“Wanna go for a walk?” Sawyer said, starting to push himself off the ground. Jack pushed him back down. “No, you get some sleep,” he said. “I’ll be fine. Everything’s gonna be fine.”
********
He hadn’t walked far when he had to admit to himself that he wasn’t fine. His head was pounding, the world was spinning, and he felt like he was going to be sick. He looked around him and saw that he was alone on the beach, and he was almost relieved because Jack never, ever wanted anybody to see him sick or weak or vulnerable. So maybe it was a good thing that when the shore rose up to smack him in the face and he saw stars right before everything went black, no one was there to help him.
The next thing he knew, he was being shaken and yelled at. “Doc! Hey, Doc! Don’t you dare be dead. I’ll kill you if you’ve gone and died on me.” Sawyer sounded completely unhinged; his voice was cracking and he was mashing on Jack’s chest, probably trying to find a heartbeat but he wasn’t going to find it like that.
“Take my pulse,” Jack instructed him, and Sawyer jumped back, startled. “If you want to see if I’m dead or not you need to take my pulse, dumbass.”
“Doc,” he said, and there was a world of relief in his voice, which must’ve embarrassed him because then he yelled, “Don’t you call me a dumbass, you dumbass! You could’ve died out here – drowned or something – if I hadn’t come after you. And I don’t need to take your pulse because if you were dead you wouldn’t be all bossy and givin’ orders like you always do.” He pulled up one of Jack’s eyelids and peered into his eye, and Jack wondered what he was looking for. “You must be pretty damn sick, though, collapsin’ on the beach—“
“I didn’t collapse,” Jack lied. “I was just…resting. I must’ve gone to sleep.” He noticed that the tide was washing over his feet. It’d been much lower when he’d last seen it. “How long was I, uh, sleeping?”
Sawyer said, “I fell asleep outside your tent and when I woke up you weren’t there, and I waited and waited for you and you didn’t come back. So I came lookin’ for you, and here you were in a heap on the sand and the tide was comin’ in and you sure as hell weren’t asleep if you didn’t even know it. You were out cold. I prob’ly saved your life.”
Jack opened his eyes and looked at Sawyer, and his eyesight must’ve been just as scrambled as his brains because Sawyer looked like a god, the moonlight reflecting on his hair and his body, making him shine, and his eyes burning like the stars and boring into his as if he was trying to see straight into Jack’s soul.
“I was afraid I’d have to give you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation,” Sawyer was saying, and Jack interrupted him.
“You look sexy,” he heard himself say, proving once and for all that something was wrong with his brain; it had gone and disconnected itself from his mouth. “You can give me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation if you want.”
Startled, Sawyer sat back on his heels and blinked at Jack. “No way in hell,” he said. Then he paused for a minute. “I mean, it’s not like I never thought about kissin’ you before, all those times when I was nearly naked in bed and you were so close to me, hovering over me, but I figured you’d punch me—“
“I won’t punch you now,” Jack supplied helpfully, and Sawyer went on as if he hadn’t heard.
“And now you’re concussed and you don’t know what you’re sayin’—“
“I’m saying you can kiss me.”
“And if I kissed you now I’d be takin’ advantage of you.”
Jack solved the problem by sitting up and putting one arm around Sawyer’s neck, holding himself up as he pulled Sawyer in for a kiss. Sawyer’s lips were soft and pliant, in stark contrast to the rough stubble on his cheeks, and Jack was intrigued by both. He couldn’t help himself, he licked a path across that prickly stubble until he found the indentation of one of Sawyer’s dimples, and he dipped his tongue inside. He didn’t know if it was his concussion, or the fact that he was French-kissing Sawyer’s dimple, that made his head spin. But this time the headrush didn’t make him feel sick, it made him feel horny, so he moved a little and this time he French-kissed Sawyer’s mouth. Sawyer’s mouth was far more interesting than his dimple, for kissing purposes anyway – Sawyer’s mouth was hot and wet and it tasted like chocolate and mangoes, sweet as sin, and it was irresistible to Jack and he couldn’t help dipping his tongue in again and again, sliding it over and around Sawyer’s and going deeper with every thrust. And Sawyer didn’t try to stop him; in fact, if Jack wasn’t mistaken, Sawyer was sucking on Jack’s tongue and it sent an electric jolt straight to his groin and he pushed Sawyer backward in the sand and straddled him.
A wave broke nearby and droplets of water sprayed onto Sawyer’s hair and skin, and they sparkled in the moonlight like diamonds. Jack nodded and said, “You are a god. A sex-god, just like I thought. That means you have to have sex with me.”
Sawyer snorted and pushed him away and got to his feet, pulling Jack up after him. “Nice as it is to know that you like me all of a sudden,” he said, “It’s just because your brain is broken, and that kind of kills the mood, Cassanova.”
“I don’t like you,” Jack corrected him, “but you turn me on. You’ve always turned me on, it just took a good thump on the head to make me admit it. And I turn you on, too, you said so yourself. So why not; let’s do it.”
“Subtle, Jack,” Sawyer scoffed, but Jack must’ve convinced him, because he led Jack into the jungle, under the cover of vines and trees. Jack decided that in his condition things would work better if he was lying down, so he looked around and gathered up a few palm fronds to make an impromptu bed. Then he pulled Sawyer down and started to undo buttons and snaps, encouraged when Sawyer took the initiative to push the unwelcome clothes away. Jack’s clothes followed, and he was surprised and aroused to see that Sawyer was staring at his body in the moonlight just as hard as he was looking at Sawyer’s. He turned onto his side so that Sawyer could see him better, the hot desire in his eyes, the tattoos on his arm and his stiff cock jutting out toward Sawyer, hard and ready. This way made it easier to touch Sawyer, too, and so that’s what he did.
At first he touched him with just one finger, softly tracing his cheekbone, touching his mouth and letting Sawyer suck the finger inside and Jack felt it, another jolt to his cock, and he reluctantly pulled the finger back and circled its tip around a nipple that hardened at his touch, and then he went lower, to dip into Sawyer’s navel and lower still to his upward-straining cock. He rubbed the slit and found a drop of moisture there, and he spread it around on the head, around to that sensitive indentation on the underside that made Sawyer draw in a breath and unconsciously flex his hips, and up and down the tight skin below until Sawyer was flushed and gasping. Then he wrapped his hand around him and tightened it just enough to make Sawyer moan, and that made Jack moan, too.
Now he wasn’t feeling concussed in the least, he was focused and alert and he suspected that he’d played up the effect that the bump had had on his brain, just as an excuse to drop his inhibitions and demand things that they both wanted. His body was feeling sensations it hadn’t felt in a long time, things he’d wanted since the first time he’d touched Sawyer. He’d pulled him away from a fight with Sayid and felt him vibrating with passion spawned by anger, and he’d wondered if he’d writhe like that in the heat of passion spawned by lust. Now he found out that he did.
Jack pumped his cock a few times and Sawyer moaned on every stroke; he seemed to be even hornier than Jack was, if that was possible. He throbbed in Jack’s hand and he said, “You better stop that.” He moved Jack’s hand away and rolled on top of him. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at him, his hair falling like a curtain around them.
Jack reached up to push it out of his eyes and it was incredibly soft, so he began to stroke it and he could’ve sworn that Sawyer purred. “You like that, huh?” he said, and Sawyer said, “Mmmmmm.” Jack stroked down his neck and scratched behind his ears, and Sawyer laughed. “What’re you doin’?”
“You’re just like a cat,” he said, “And cats like it when you pet them and scratch behind their ears.”
“I’m a little big to be a cat, don’t ya think?” He pressed his body against Jack’s, chest to toe, proving that they were exactly the same size.
“A great big jungle cat,” Jack said. “Feral. You let me pet you, but you could turn on me and bite me any second.”
Sawyer lowered his head to the juncture of Jack’s neck and shoulder, and he bit. “Hey!” Jack yelped, but then Sawyer’s tongue was there and he laved and soothed and sucked on Jack’s neck, and Jack sighed and decided that Sawyer might not turn on him, but he sure was going to turn him on.
He lifted his hips so that his cock thrust against Sawyer’s, and Sawyer took the hint and reached down between them to draw them both together, tight, so tight, and his hand was warm and strong and he began to pump.
Jack closed his eyes and gave himself over to the feeling, Sawyer’s fingers moving over the underside of his cock, Sawyer’s hard shaft with its soft skin gliding over the top. That was good, so good that Jack wanted it to go on and on, but then Sawyer did something else, something wonderful; he rubbed the heads of both their cocks with his finger, making them both slick with their combined fluid, and Jack felt the burn all the way down to his toes. His cock throbbed and he sighed in pleasure.
Sawyer leaned in to kiss him, and his tongue emulated his thrusts down below, and now they were swallowing each other’s moans as wave after wave of heat consumed them. In the small space between them Jack’s hips bucked upward as Sawyer’s pushed down, and his hand squeezed tight as his strokes sped up and his moans became desperate gasps into Jack’s mouth, and Jack felt him swell and jerk against him, and Sawyer raised his face to the moonlight and cried out in ecstacy as he came. It went on and on and now his hand was slick and wet with his own come, and he didn’t let go of either of them as he kept up his rhythm, his fingers gliding over Jack’s dick now, and the aching burn was unbearably hot, unbearably sweet. Jack didn’t think he could take any more and with a shout he erupted, coming in thick streams all over Sawyer’s stomach and cock, his hips pumping fast and hard, Sawyer moving with him and making little whimpering sounds, as if Jack’s pleasure had re-ignited his own. Finally the waves receded and they both quieted and stilled, the only motion that of Jack’s hand in Sawyer’s hair, stroking and stroking and stroking.
“Y’know,” he murmured, “I’m glad I saved you. It’d be a shame to lose your hair. I think that saving your hair is my true calling in life. It’s my destiny. I think that when you do die, I’ll cut off your hair and keep it…maybe in a Ziploc bag.” Then he realized that he was starting to sound concussed again, so he shut up. Still, he silently renewed his vow to never let Sawyer die…if only for the hair. Yeah, just the hair and not for any of the other reasons that his out-of-control brain was stirring up. The hair was good enough reason all on its own to keep saving Sawyer.
It had grown chilly while they were wrapped up in each other and they hadn’t even noticed, but when they drew apart they both shivered. “Let’s get you back to camp,” Sawyer said. “If I’m gonna keep you up all night we should at least be warm.”
Jack started to tell him that he didn’t need to stay up all night, he was fine, sex had cured him, but then he thought the better of it. If a concussion made him see Sawyer in a new light, made him appreciate his beauty and his sexuality as he should have all along, then he wouldn’t mind staying concussed forever. Without a word he let Sawyer gather up his clothes for him and help him dress, and he didn’t argue at all when Sawyer put an arm around him to support him as they made their way back to camp. He could get used to this, being cared for by Sawyer. Especially if it included sex.
When they got back to Jack’s tent they pulled their pallets inside, “Just in case we have to do something naked again to keep you awake,” Sawyer said. Then he got the flashlight and checked the bruise on Jack’s head.
“It’s lookin’ better,” he said, and picked up the book he’d carried inside with them. “Want me to read to you some more?”
“Sure,” Jack said, figuring that they had some time to kill before Sawyer needed to do something naked to keep Jack awake. Sawyer put his glasses on and picked up the book. With a little sidewise grin, he began to read.
“Compatibilities,” he said. “You’re a Taurus and I’m a Leo, so here goes. ‘A fire sign plus an earth sign equals lava. This is an unusual combination of energies. Your ruling planets, Sun and Venus, are rather different: fire and earth, after all, are not generally too comfortable with each other. However, there is an obvious and immediate attraction between you.
This combination can be hot, as lava implies. There’s a natural magnetism, with a hunk of passion thrown in for good measure. Leo tends to bring out the romantic and sexual side of Taurus, all in a rush. This immediate attraction has something to do with Leo being the bright shining star and Taurus being the sensual, earthy sign of love.
There’s also a protective element associated with Leo.’” He stopped and grinned, and there was a hint of pride in that grin that Jack thought was sweet. “Lions provide for and nurture their clan. Taurus will be drawn to this. Yet when the lion gets a thorn in his paw, tenacious Taurus will always be there to pull it out. This combination engenders a mutual loyalty that, over time, can forge an unbreakable bond.
Socially you both display leadership qualities; unfortunately, you could be constantly competing with each other for the attention of the world. Keep an eye on this, because while it is fun for a while, it could deteriorate into a battle of wills and egos.
However, if you both take things one step at a time, and balance your crazy pleasure-seeking with some practical nurturing, this relationship could well be a permanent one.’" He choked a little and looked at Jack over the top of his glasses. “Permanent?”
“Uh…we can just figure that out as we go along, I guess,” Jack told him, and thought about the descriptions in the book, and how unnervingly accurate they’d been. It was just superstition. He didn’t believe in it, but he silently counted the lives Sawyer almost lost, anyway. The time Sawyer had told him about when his daddy came into his room intending to shoot him. The plane crash. The torture and near-fatal fight with Sayid. The gunshot wound. The day he knelt in the rain with a gun to his head. The snakebite. And all the others – Jack tallied them up silently. Then there was today’s bus accident…. Suddenly it hit him. A Leo was a cat, and legend had it that cats have nine lives. Sawyer had used up his nine lives before the accident today. That meant that anything that happened from now on would be for real, so Jack had better stick very close to be sure there wasn’t a next one. Just like today, when the bus had been bearing down on Sawyer and Jack had pushed him out of the way…only to be run down himself. With a sick chill, an idea came to him. Maybe the pattern was starting anew. Maybe now it was Jack’s turn to face his own nine lives. Did that mean it was Sawyer’s turn to be Jack’s savior? Could Sawyer be as heroic as Jack had always been? Well, Jack would just have to make sure that he was. And that Sawyer would stay alive to do the job. He vowed, right there in the sand with used and aching loins and a badly pounding head, that he would never let Sawyer out of his sight again.
After all, saving each other was their destiny.
End
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Now you've got me turning over all the porny possibilities of "Muffin & Rocky Do Dallas" in my mind, shame on you!
I'm glad you read and liked, though! :D
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And mm, hot. Indeed. *licks lips* I love how you played the concussion angle, it totally made sense (and ha, concussed!Jack is adorable. Totally, especially without inhibitions ;) ) and I indeed like Jack's final resolution. Mm, it was so good to read more of the pairing! Even if I need to echo
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I'm glad you liked silly, concussed Jack. If he stays concussed, he just might talk Sawyer into starring in the Wild 'n Porny Adventures of Muffin and Rocky!
Thank you for reading, sweetie! ♥
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The horoscope seemed very fitting too. Or maybe I just like Lion Sawyer.
(Also can I say I'm with
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Y'all know you're being VERY BAD INFLUENCES with all the talk about Muffin and Rocky, don't you? Sheesh! ;)
Thanks for reading (again). I hope the parts I added lived up to expectations!
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Oh, Gay porn AU? Mmmhmm, go for it (like you need more encouragement?)
oh, one tiny typo: ...and Jack felt the burn all the way down to his toes. He his cock throbbed and he sighed in pleasure. You probably want to drop that 'He'. *smooches*
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Y'all need to pass me a crack pipe and I'll, er, get right on Rocky and Muffin! (sorry, that pun was just too too easy! ;) )
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*passes the crack pipe and refrains from commenting about how exactly you might like to get on them* (and see, even in comments I need to edit myself of the typos... DUH)
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Jack saying he doesn't like him, but is turned on by him. . . that's probably the most accurate summary of their relationship! ;D Very good.
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This is definitely what a feel-good fic should be like: lighthearted, funny, emotional, well-written ... oh, and yeah, unbelievably hot. ;)
I'm such a sucker for caring!Sawyer, really. And concussed!Jack is soo adorable.
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Thank you so much!!
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“You always want to save me,” Sawyer had told him once, accusingly.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to kill you,” Jack had sniped back
Ah, I missed old school Jack/Sawyer fic. ♥
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I'm glad you said that about old school J/S fic, because that's exactly how it felt when I was writing it. I miss old school J/S, too! Any chance you'll write them again someday? *puppy dog eyes*
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Thanks for sharing your great writing and awesome plot ideas!
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Thank you for reading!
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Oh, and giggled so much over this line:“Just in case we have to do something naked again to keep you awake,” Hee!
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who are born to clash (but even more so, to save the other's hide, right?)
That's out boys, isn't it -- can't decide whether to kill each other or save each other.
Thank you so much for reading! ♥
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Keep up the good work, sport!
Go get em, Tiger!
Good luck! We're all counting on you!
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Thank you for reading!
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sexin'sexy Sawyer? I mean, WE are, so he MUST be, right? ;)Thanks so much for reading, sweetie! *smooch!*
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haha, indeed! ;)
This was very sexy and funny. I loved concussed!Jack blatering things around and lowering his inhibitions.
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Thank you so much for reading! ♥
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When they got back to Sawyer’s tent they pulled their pallets inside, “Just in case we have to do something naked again to keep you awake,” Sawyer said.
ROTFL YES! MORE NAKED TIME.
Rawr. This was yummy. And I love how you incorporated all the astrology stuff too. Wonderful <333
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Thank you for reading, and for the awesome feedback! ♥
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Parts that will stick with me are
the part on the beach where Sawyer found Jack on the beach and then the kissing, wow i love beach sex!
even though it was just kissing.
Also the snarky part about Jack saving Sawyer just for his hair! that is sooo great, keeping it in a ziploc bag. Just the best!
Overall a really hot sexy story!
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Thank you for reading, and for the lovely feedback! ♥