alliecat8 | Lost fic: Earthbound Starlight

Title: Earthbound Starlight
Fandom: Lost
Characters: Jack/Sawyer
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Only mine in my dreams
A/N: Set in early Season 1

Written for

haldoor, just because. :)

Earthbound Starlight

Jack wasn’t the star-gazing type. Jack was the type who worked, who took charge and did everything that needed to be done. The problem was that so much needed to be done on the island – handling medical emergencies and scratching out the basics of living and dealing with rampaging monsters and boars and men with chips on their shoulders – he was busy from the time he opened his eyes in the morning until he fell into his bed late at night. He’d barely closed his eyes before he opened them again to another day that had to be dealt with. Rest wasn’t for him, and no matter how bright the nighttime sky was, no matter how much beauty there was in this place where everything else seemed to be wrong, stargazing wasn’t for him.

Until one night when it all became too much for him. Dazed with exhaustion, he staggered off down the beach until he’d left all traces of airplane and human wreckage behind, and he nearly tripped over a figure lying prone in the sand. He cursed, because whether this person was living or dead he’d need to be dealt with in some way, and Jack was too wasted to deal with anything at the moment. Still he dropped to the ground, and he was both relieved and supremely irritated when the figure drawled lazily, “Hey, Doc. What brings you out here to my neck of the jungle?”

Sawyer, dammit. Sawyer, whose tendency to sprawl on an airplane cushion, wearing nothing but ragged jeans and a pair of ridiculous sunglasses, holding a book, made him look like he’d planned this little getaway, like he was on a tropical vacation. Jack hated him. Sometimes a little voice in his head questioned whether he might be jealous of him, whether he might envy Sawyer’s ability to keep people at bay, his talent for relaxing. Jack drowned out the voice with a louder one that said he hated Sawyer, period.

Now here they were, all alone on the beach, and apparently Jack was expected to make conversation. “I was running away,” he confessed, his brain too frazzled to think up a good lie.

Sawyer laughed. “What happened to live together, die alone?” he asked with good-natured sarcasm. “Did all that togetherness finally get to you, chief? Me, personally, I’d’ve walked into the ocean til it swallowed me right up if they were wantin’ things from me right ‘n left, then complainin’ about it when I gave it to ‘em.” He shifted in the sand, and Jack’s eyes had adjusted to the dark enough to see that he was bare to the waist and barefoot, and he patted the sand beside him. “Take a breather, Jack.” In the moonlight he could see a devilish gleam spark in the other man’s eyes. “I promise I won’t ask for anything you ain’t willin’ to give.”

Suddenly he felt weak and dizzy, and Jack blamed it on the fact that he was ready to drop already when he sank down into the sand next to this worthless troublemaker. “What are you doing way out here?” he asked.

With a soft snort, Sawyer answered, “In case you haven’t noticed, I ain’t one of your followers. I keep to myself, mostly, and tonight I’m star-gazin’.”

Jack yawned. “Sounds boring,” he said rudely.

“It’s not,” Sawyer said, unoffended. “Not if you know what you’re lookin’ at. There’re stories in the stars, Doc. Lay back and I’ll tell you one.”

Lying down sounded wonderful, but Jack doubted he could stay awake long enough to listen to a story. Still, he didn’t protest when Sawyer started to talk. He liked the man’s voice, found it soothing, even if he didn’t like the man himself.

“See that, there?” He pointed, but all Jack saw was a mass of twinkling lights, unidentifiable as anything he recognized. He did notice, however, the way that the stars reflected on water that was blacker than the night sky, though the two blended somewhere far from shore, erasing the horizon. All he could see was black-on-black shot through with tiny pulsating explosions of light, and Jack suddenly realized the real meaning of the word “starburst.”

“Look over there,” Sawyer pointed to where Jack imagined the horizon to be. “Can you see that place where four bright stars make a square?”

Jack squinted, but at first it all just looked like a jumble. He started to say no, but then an image sharpened into perspective and he said, “That thing that looks like an upside-down Dipper?”

Jack saw one of Sawyer’s dimples flash as he cocked his head to one side. “Yeah, I guess I can see what you mean. But don’t look at the part that looks like a handle, just look at the big square. That’s called the 'Doorway to Paradise.'”

Still feeling sleepy and not really interested, Jack said, “Why?”

“Hell if I know. But have you ever heard of Pegasus?”

“Flying horse,” Jack mumbled.

“Yeah, that’s right. That square’s part of the constellation of Pegasus. It’s supposed to be his body. And back behind are some crooked strings of stars that’re supposed to be his legs and his neck.” His voice softened into a tone that almost sounded like wonder. “Just a big ol’ horse, flyin’ through the sky.”

Jack felt his sleepiness lift, and he turned slightly toward Sawyer and raised up on one elbow. Something about the change in his voice and the dimple and seeing him under the stars instead of the harsh sun was altering his impression of the man, softening it, making Jack see him in a new light. He hadn’t thought that Sawyer was intelligent before, but now he wondered if he’d misjudged him. “Did you learn that from one of those books you read?”

“I’ve been readin’ books for a long, long time,” he answered. “I like books a hell of a lot better than I like people.”

Jack might’ve been stung by that, considering that he’d just felt himself opening up to Sawyer a tiny bit, but there was something surprisingly lonely in his voice, and so he just reminded him, “You said you were going to tell me a story.”

“Yeah, well, I ain’t the mystical type, Doc,” Sawyer said, and now both dimples appeared. “But when you’re stuck in a crap situation, stories can make you feel unstuck. That’s why I read. Now see that flyin’ horse up there in the sky?”

Jack didn’t, but his mood felt lighter already when he answered, “Yeah.”

Sawyer nodded, satisfied. “You’ve heard of Medusa, the one with snakes for hair? Well, one day this god named Perseus chopped off her ugly head. Drops of her blood fell into the ocean, and when it mixed with the sea foam the horse, Pegasus, was born. That’s what gives him his white light, the sea foam and the sand, and the waves gave him wings to fly.” For a moment he watched the surf, then he went on. “There was this mortal dude named Bellerophon, who got ordered to do some stuff that he didn’t think he could do on his own. So he managed to tame Pegasus, and he and the horse flew off and took care of that job and even some others, and Bellerophon became a hero. It went to his head, though, and he tried to fly Pegasus to Mount Olympus where the gods lived. The head honcho, Zeus, wasn’t cool with that so he sent a horsefly to bite Pegasus, and the horse reared and tossed Bellerophon off. He fell to earth and spent the rest of his days lame and blind and shunned. Pegasus made it to Olympus and got a job carrying Zeus’ thunderbolts.” He got quiet for a minute, lost in thought, and then he added, “Stupid horse.”

Jack actually chuckled. “Why’s he stupid?”

“Lettin’ a fly screw his friend over like that.”

Jack was amused that Sawyer sounded offended. “What do you think he should’ve done?”

“Well, he had them cool shiny wings,” he said. “He could’ve wrapped them around Bellerophon to keep him from fallin’ off.”

“But then they’d both fall.”

Sawyer considered for a minute, and in the quiet moment Jack took in the stars and the sky and the surf and they seemed to take on a new life. “Just seems to me,” Sawyer continued finally, “That if that if a wild magic horse was willin’ to let a mortal tame him and they’d gone around slayin’ monsters and stuff together, they were way past that 'every man for himself' shit…he should’ve been willin’ to die for him, or at least take the chance.”

He blurted the last part out and the look on his face was sheepish, and Jack realized that he’d ventured outside of his comfort zone by sharing his opinion. He wondered if, under that prickly exterior, Sawyer was really a hopeless romantic. He didn’t dare say it, though.

They lay there in silence that held a tenuous new sense of companionship. Jack realized he was staring at Sawyer, but he couldn’t help it. Sawyer’s hair shone like wings in the moonlight. His skin was luminous and Jack found himself wanting to touch it, a fleeting brush with beauty, but he clenched his hands at his sides, afraid to break the mood.

Sawyer must’ve seen something in his expression, though, and he leaned in and rested his forehead against Jack’s. When Jack didn’t protest he leaned closer until their lips and bodies touched. Jack accepted Sawyer’s mouth with something like gratitude. Now he knew why he’d suddenly felt a new closeness with this man he’d thought he hated. He’d missed being talked to. Not demanded of or yelled at. And as Sawyer’s arms settled around him, holding him up off the damp sand like maybe he’d be willing to share Jack’s burdens, too, Jack thought that he’d missed that even though no one had ever offered it to him before. It was as comforting as it was sexual.

Jack tasted the ocean on Sawyer’s lips and felt its salt and sea-spray on his skin. Sawyer kissed him softly, not asking anything of him, and for that Jack wanted to give him something. He ran his hands down Sawyer’s smooth chest, and the fine hairs he touched were the color of moonlight. His body radiated heat, and Jack settled closer to that warmth and thought that, like the moon, Sawyer basked in reflected sunlight. His hands moved lower and stopped when he reached Sawyer’s belt, waiting for permission.

“No,” Sawyer said, and Jack snatched his hands back in embarrassed disappointment until Sawyer lay Jack back down in the sand and said, “Let me.”

He drew back and lifted Jack’s shirt up and off, and when his big hands splayed across the tops of his hips, pushing Jack’s jeans and boxers down in one strong tug, Jack closed his eyes and gave himself over to the amazing sensation of being cared for.

Sawyer settled his hands under Jack’s hips, protecting them from the cold rough sand, and he bent his head to place little kisses across the sensitive skin of Jack’s stomach. It tickled and Jack wanted to laugh, but it felt good, too, the playfulness and non-aggressiveness of it. Then the kisses became deeper and Sawyer began to suck and Jack started to get an idea of exactly what that mouth could do. When he moved lower Jack was already hard for him, already wanting him. Sawyer made an appreciative little noise as if he was the one about to be transported to the heavens. His mouth slid down, and down some more, and Jack was immediately overcome with the sensations of hot and wet and ohsogood, and he echoed Sawyer’s noise and pushed up, forgetting in the erotic flood not to be demanding. Sawyer didn’t seem to mind, though, he just sucked harder and took Jack deeper.

To his surprise Jack realized that now he was able to let go of the tension in his muscles, and the more relaxed he was the more intense was the pleasure of being inside Sawyer’s mouth. It burned, and as a sweet melting sensation washed over him he sighed and let himself be swept away. Sawyer must’ve noticed the change against his hands, and Jack felt him smile a little against his cock and then, perhaps as a reward, he started to do things with his tongue. Wonderful things. Things that had Jack writhing and whimpering helplessly in no time. It crossed his mind that this was Sawyer, and Jack ought to be ashamed of showing signs of neediness around him, but the thought became irrelevant before it was fully formed as Sawyer dipped his tongue into Jack’s slit and blew his mind. He gave the area his full attention for a few moments, long enough to get Jack completely undone, long enough to have him spreading his legs and begging for more, and then he pressed the tip of his tongue against that bundle of nerves just under the head and Jack couldn’t help it, he cried out and he shoved his hands into Sawyer’s hair and held on, and he hoped the other man didn’t mind if he tugged just as little as his fingers clenched and unclenched, clenched and unclenched with the rhythm of Sawyer’s probing tongue. Sawyer licked from head to base, following the trail of the rock hard vein there, and Jack raised his head, looked down his body, saw Sawyer’s hair spilling through his fingers like water and light, his own cock stiffly swollen and pointing skyward, and it was too much for him, he surprised himself and Sawyer by convulsing and crying out and arching up high, spattering drops of white across his stomach until Sawyer engulfed him in his heat once more and swallowed again and again, again and again, taking all that Jack had to give.

Jack released Sawyer’s hair and his hands fell to his sides, as limp as the rest of him. He could still feel the aftermath of the orgasm buzzing through his veins and as he looked up at the stars he felt as if he was flying amongst them, effortlessly, relaxed and ecstatic.

Sawyer rolled over onto his back and as the buzz faded from Jack’s ears he could hear him panting, little moans escaping between breaths, and he looked over to see Sawyer’s hand resting against his own naked stomach, the long fingers dipping down just below the waistband of his jeans. Jack wondered at the connection between them. Jack’s pleasure had become Sawyer’s need, and though Sawyer seemed to be reconciled to taking care of himself, Jack found that he wanted to reciprocate more than he’d wanted to do anything in a long, long time.

Jack tried not to think about the strangeness of how he’d run away only to find himself here with Sawyer’s cock in his mouth, but concentrated instead on how Sawyer’s moans made the night music sound so much sweeter. He could taste Sawyer’s salty fluid already, feel him stretched tight and straining against Jack’s tongue, undone by all that had come before. Jack felt a twinge of pride that he’d done this to him. Sawyer wasn’t holding anything back as he bucked and thrust against Jack’s tongue and his hands fisted in the sand, and though Jack was ready for it when Sawyer erupted, he wasn’t prepared for how he lost control and sobbed Jack’s name as his hands flew to Jack’s shoulders and held on for dear life. The burn of the sand on Sawyer’s palms scouring his skin brought back echoes of the burn that had come before and he sighed in remembered pleasure, sucked in the last drops and sighed again as he let Sawyer’s cock slip from his mouth, and he rested his head against Sawyer’s stomach and let the sound of his breathing and the waves on the beach lull him until he was drifting out to sea.

He woke hours later feeling refreshed and invigorated. He sat up and looked at Sawyer, who was sprawled on the sand like a heathen god fallen to earth, fast asleep. “I have to get going,” Jack told him softly, almost hoping he wouldn’t wake, but Sawyer opened his eyes and looked at him. His eyes were hazy and the skies above reflected in them, sleepy starlight, then he closed them again and his breathing became deep and even. Carefully, Jack adjusted his clothes, and he wondered if Sawyer would remember this in the morning or if it would all seem like a dream. Soon they would go back to being who they were, Jack the weary warrior and Sawyer the lazy, sun-bronzed scoundrel, but now they would have this wisp of memory between them, like a myth among the stars.

End