alliecat8

Lost Fic: 108
Characters: Jack/Sawyer
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Let's see how much smut we can fit into one fic, shall we?
Spoilers: Through "Collision"
Disclaimer: Only mine in my dreams

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY on Wednesday,

eponine119!!! This is Megan's born-porn, y'all, and I got a little carried away with it ;), but I had more fun writing this than I've ever had writing fic before. I was presumptuous enough to ask her to beta her own b-day fic (because I trust her implicitly, and ♥ her to death), so thanks once again,

eponine119 for beta-ing! :D

(Oh, and if anyone's picky, I know that you can't see the clock from the bed, but let's pretend for now, okay?)

108

“Yes-man.”

“Pardon?” Jack glanced up from the keyboard to where Sawyer lay sprawled on the couch, doing nothing in particular besides getting under Jack’s skin.

“Daddy’s boy.” Jack knew Sawyer was trying to get a rise out of him, but he glared at him anyway.

“Sheep.”

“I’m pushing the button, Sawyer. The character assassination is pointless. I’m pushing it until we know, one way or the other, what its purpose is.”

“Purpose.” Sawyer snorted. “Its purpose is to make a fool of you. This was an experimental facility. That was one of the experiments. See how many people they could get to push that button, for how long, without ever knowing why. Nothin’ will happen if you don’t push it.”

“I know.” Jack sighed. It was late, he was bone-weary although he’d done very little all day, and he didn’t feel like arguing. He pushed the button, and the numbers on the countdown clock reset to 108. “Nothing will happen, but we do it anyway.” He went over and sprawled on the couch beside Sawyer. “Bored, huh?”

“As shit. Hatch is gettin’ old, you’re gettin’ old, even sex is gettin’ old, down here, nothin’ to do BUT fuck, the thrill starts to wear of after a while….” Jack gave him a half-hearted kick in the shin, but he was secretly starting to agree. They’d tried out almost every piece of furniture, every rug and every surface, and the shower had seen more action than a bottle of cheap tequila at spring break, and it’d only been a few weeks. Already they were starting to repeat themselves.

Jack slid his leg over Sawyer’s, in a companionable way, not a sexual one. “I think it’s called cabin fever.”

Sawyer glanced at him sideways, raising an eyebrow. “I just got over some kinda jungle fever, now I gotta worry about cabin fever, too?”

Sawyer knew what cabin fever meant; Jack didn’t think it was necessary to clarify. Jack had finally figured out that Sawyer played dumb when he was bored. He did it because he was smart enough to be amused when people tried to explain things to him. He usually had a clearer grasp of the truth than they did.

“Nothin’. Will. Happen. Do I have to shoot that piece of crap over there and kill it for good to prove it?"

“You do and somebody’s likely to shoot you.” Jack stopped short when he realized what he’d said, and then decided to go with it. “Again.”

“You lookin’ for a fight?” Sawyer’s voice was so lifeless Jack despaired of ever having the pleasure of fighting with him again. Sawyer was like a caged lion who had finally given up all hope of freedom. “Cuz if you want a fight you just step right outside that door, I won’t give you a good three yards before you’ll have a fight on your hands. That hellcat don’t want you out there any more than you want me out there, and she’d just as soon kill ya as look at ya, but if you want a fight that bad, go for it, cowboy.”

Jack chafed at the notion of being a prisoner in the hatch. Especially Ana Lucia’s prisoner. But the word had come back from Desmond that Sawyer was probably infected, having been shot by one of the Others’ dirty bullets, and that Jack, who had treated his wounds with bare, raw, cracked hands, was likely cross-contaminated. Both men agreed that the prudent course of action was to quarantine themselves in the hatch until they could finish the six-week course of inoculations that Desmond said would immunize them to the sickness, whatever it was.

“You don’t have to stay,” Sawyer said, petulantly. “Your scratches have healed, you’ve had your medicine. Go on, go get some fresh air, sleep on the beach or something. I know you’re sick of spending every night here. I could use some me-time, anyhow.”

Jack stared at the ceiling, his fingers trailing absently over Sawyer’s too-flat stomach. “To do what? Read? Not until you’ve got your new glasses. Sleep? You do that all the time anyway. If I left, would you push the button?”

“No,” Sawyer said, predictably. “Then we’d find out I’m good for something, after all, cause I’d prove what we already know. Nothin’ would happen.”

Jack glanced at the clock. 103. So much time to kill. “I’ll tell you a story,” he said, and Sawyer said, “Oh, goody. It’s Mr. Rogers time.”

“It’s about monkeys. Once upon a time there was a cage containing five monkeys. Someone hung a banana on a string inside the cage and placed a set of stairs under it. Before long, a monkey went to the stairs and started to climb towards the banana. As soon as he touched the stairs, the experimenter sprayed all of the other monkeys with cold water. After a while, another monkey made an attempt with the same result - all the other monkeys were sprayed with cold water. Pretty soon, when another monkey tried to climb the stairs, the other monkeys all tried to prevent it.

Next they put away the cold water. They removed one monkey from the cage and replaced it with a new one. The new monkey saw the banana and wanted to climb the stairs. To his surprise and horror, all of the other monkeys attacked him. After another attempt and attack, he knew that if he tried to climb the stairs, he would be assaulted.

Then, they removed another of the original five monkeys and replaced it with a new one. The newcomer went to the stairs and was attacked. The previous newcomer took part in the punishment enthusiastically. Likewise, they replaced a third original monkey with a new one, then a fourth, then the fifth. Every time the newest monkey took to the stairs, he was attacked. Most of the monkeys that were beating him had no idea why they weren’t allowed to climb the stairs or why they were participating in the beating of the newest monkey.

After they’d replaced all the original monkeys, none of the remaining monkeys had ever been sprayed with cold water. Still, no monkey ever again approached the stairs to try for the banana.”

“Why not?”

“Because as far as they knew that's the way it had always been done around there. They were protecting the group, even though they didn’t know what they were protecting each other from. It’d become a conditioned reflex.” Jack’s hand traveled south, and sure enough, Sawyer was hard beneath the soft denim of his jeans, just from Jack's proximity. Talk about a conditioned reflex. He squeezed lightly.

“So you’re all a bunch of monkeys. Doin’ something you don’t know the reason for, just because that’s how it’s always been done. Because you’re afraid of what will happen if you don’t.” Unconsciously, he spread his legs wider and arched his hips up into Jack’s hand.

“If that’s how you want to look at it, yeah.” Jack turned so that Sawyer’s thigh was trapped between his legs, to make it easier for Jack to hump him.

Sawyer gasped and rolled onto his side, bringing their cocks flush against each other. “Not me. I ain’t no monkey.”

Jack buried his face in Sawyer’s neck and started to suck, hot, wet kisses. “You’d do it, though.”

“No.” Sawyer arched forward, initiating the friction that always sparked the fire between them. “I’d let it beep itself to death, and then we’d be free.”

Jack swiped his tongue from Sawyer’s neck to his ear, and sucked at a velvet lobe. “Or dead. You wouldn’t risk our deaths.”

“Shut up.” Sawyer’s mouth was way too hungry for this discussion, and when he pulled Jack’s into his own that was the end of the conversation for a very long time.

Kissing was something they could do for days. It didn’t hurt Sawyer anymore for Jack to lie on top of him, the shoulder was tender but healed, and Jack shifted the bulk of his weight downward to begin a slow grind of his hips, one that was answered in kind by Sawyer. Sawyer pushed up just as Jack pushed down and it was almost like soft-focus, under-wraps fucking, with two hard cocks sliding together through two sets of jeans worn supple and thin as brushed suede, two pairs of boxers worn to the consistency of tissue. Their chests stuck together with heavy warmth, making little ripping, sucking sounds as they moved against each other, and they breathed into each other’s mouths, first gasping, and then as the tension mounted, moaning. Jack pulled away after the longest time and pushed Sawyer back into the couch. “Take off your jeans,” he said as his eyes slid to the clock. 85.

Sawyer stood up and stretched, accentuating his new leanness, his skin pale but still sleek and luminous, as if he glowed from within. His jeans rode so low on his flat hips that he was able to slide them off without unzipping. His boxers followed and he turned, unselfconsciously, and ambled to the bed and stretched out on the bottom bunk, displaying himself for Jack, waiting.

Jack followed him, turning off lights as he went, until the only light visible was the tiny bulb that illuminated the numbers on the countdown clock. Jack’s own jeans were so tight he had a moment’s difficulty tugging the zipper over the straining erection beneath, but soon he was naked and sinking down onto the bed beside Sawyer, molding himself to Sawyer’s heated skin, his lips and tongue working at the pulse at the base of Sawyer’s throat. He had a fetish for that spot now, after staring at it for so long, throughout those nights when the throb was so faint, during the gut-wrenching times when it stopped altogether only to stutter back to life as Sawyer fought and won, fought and won again. Now that pulse was strong and steady under Jack’s mouth, beginning to race now as Jack slid his hand down, between their bodies, and grasped both their swollen cocks and squeezed.

“Ahh, fuck Jack, that’s good, move…” Sawyer groaned, trying to push into Jack’s hand.

Jack raised his head and looked at Sawyer through hazy eyes. “I thought you were bored with this.” His hand started a lazy motion, up, then down, then up with a little squeeze right at the tip, taking his time, making them both gasp.

Sawyer pressed his head back into the pillow, blond hair spread out like spilled moonlight against the white fabric, blue eyes glittering with need and something primal that looked almost like joy.

“There’s worse things than bein’ bored, Doc.”

And then Jack kissed him again, long and deep, and tried to remember how to breathe with Sawyer sucking on his tongue, breathe so he didn’t have to pull back and break the rhythm. He tried to match the tempo of his tongue to that of his hand, and after a long gratifying build-up they were both throbbing and slick with their combined precome, and Sawyer’s hips were jerking hard and heavy, and Jack had to drag his mouth away from Sawyer’s and gasp, “Wait.”

“What for?” Sawyer was still trying to fuck Jack’s hand even as it stilled, and with no small effort Jack let go of them both and sat up. He was so dazed with need that he barely registered the numbers on the clock, 62.

“No rush.” Breath coming in ragged waves, Jack climbed up Sawyer’s body and he crouched over him, his hands gripping the posts that connected the bottom bunk to the top. The swollen head of his cock brushed against Sawyer’s lips and Jack wondered for an instant if Sawyer was going to be stubborn, if he wanted to get off so badly that he’d refuse to do anything that might postpone his own release. But after a tense moment Sawyer’s tongue flicked out and traced a path along the underside of Jack’s erection like a finger of flame and then he sighed, the cool puff of air following so closely in the wake of the heat that it almost made Jack come against his will.

Sawyer opened his mouth and sucked Jack in, his lower lip dragging along Jack’s engorged length, his tongue circling the head, his hand squeezing the rigid shaft and Jack’s brain told him that there was no possible way this could go on very long, but it had to. He had to figure out how to make it last, somehow. He tried to concentrate on his thoughts, on the inside of his brain, not the nerve endings in every other part of his body…especially that part, the part that was ready to betray him. The whole point of this delay was to make things last. So he tried not to move, tried to let Sawyer do all the work…but for once in his life Sawyer had decided to be an overachiever. The things he was doing with his lips and his tongue and his teeth, Jesus…and he wouldn’t let up until he heard Jack groan, felt Jack jerk against the roof of his mouth, felt Jack’s skin tighten and then it didn’t matter what Jack’s brain said, Jack’s cock was coming and there was no arguing with it. His hips spasmed involuntarily and he plunged deep into Sawyer’s throat, dimly aware that Sawyer was allowing this, welcoming it even, as he milked every drop, swallowed every spurt, sucked every last trickle from the swollen, sensitive tip. Then he let go, letting Jack’s cock slide sensuously over his lips, and said, “Feel better now, Doc?”

He didn’t say it accusingly but Jack was embarrassed and felt as if he needed to apologize, anyway. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to do that so soon. It was an accident.”

Sawyer let out a short laugh. “What, your dick got lost and accidentally ended up in my mouth?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Jack was disgusted with himself. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You better.” Sawyer was already tugging Jack down, raising his hips, demanding his fair share. “And no more procrastinatin’, you’ve been a tease long enough. I need to get off now, Jack. Seriously.”

Jack could tell from the feel of things that Sawyer meant business; he was so hard and tight that it had to be painful, and the only cure for that was quick, intense release. Jack looked at the clock. 48. He really had his work cut out for him.

He started out by playing with Sawyer’s balls, rubbing the sensitive area just behind them, cupping them and squeezing gently, ignoring his cock altogether. Sawyer grunted and thrust toward Jack’s mouth, but he didn’t complain so Jack kept up the torture for as long as he, Jack, could stand it. Then he went to work on Sawyer’s cock with his tongue. Just his tongue, not his mouth. He traced a hot, wet path from the rigid base all the way to the straining, flared tip, then let his tongue linger there, exploring, dipping into the warm slit and licking up the fluid that had gathered there. Next he let his tongue go flat and cup the head, creating suction with just his tongue alone. Sawyer endured the teasing for an impressive length of time but finally he cried out, “Fuck, Doc, please!” and bucked up hard, and Jack didn’t have any choice but to take him into his mouth and suck, and it was going to be over any second now if he didn’t think of something, quick.

He released Sawyer’s cock with his mouth and took him in his hand instead. His other hand went to Sawyer’s mouth and he slid three fingers inside. They’d done this before and Sawyer’s eyes darkened in both frustration and anticipation. He jerked his head away, pulling back from Jack’s thrusting fingers. “What’s wrong with you tonight? Most times, you’re the one who’s in a hurry, I’m the one sayin’ slow down…. You feelin’ okay?”

“I feel great.” Jack sat up and took his cock, already hard again, in his own hand. “Just thought we’d do it your way for a change. We’ve got time.” 38 minutes, to be exact, but Jack didn’t say that out loud. “The longer it lasts, the better it’ll feel in the end.”

He trailed his wet fingers down Sawyer’s chest and stomach, then between his legs. Sawyer spread his thighs and arched up to give Jack easier access, and Jack slowly slid one finger inside. He felt the muscles tighten involuntarily, then Sawyer relaxed and Jack heard him sigh. Good, he’d managed to quell the urgency for the moment, while still keeping Sawyer high on a long slow wave of arousal. He worked him for a few minutes with just one finger, then added a second, and when he could tell that Sawyer was slick and relaxed and ready, he slid in a third. He thrust his fingers slowly and firmly over just the right spot, and he watched Sawyer’s face as he did so. Watched his face, and watched his cock, and wondered if he could make Sawyer come just by fucking him like this. He thought that maybe he could. Sawyer’s face was flushed and his eyes were closed, and his upper and lower front teeth were clenched together as urgent little gasps escaped his mouth. His cock was fully engorged and drops of precome were rolling down its length, and Jack thought that with two more strokes, maybe three….Sawyer proved his theory by crying out and bucking up high, and Jack cursed inwardly, afraid he’d let it get too far, and he pulled his hand away as gently but as quickly as he could and grabbed the base of Sawyer’s cock and squeezed.

This time Sawyer’s groan went beyond impatience. He was getting angry. “I swear to God, Doc….”

“On your knees,” Jack ordered, all business now. The clock was down to 10 minutes, and playtime was over. “If you want to come, I’ll make you come. But you have to get on your hands and knees, now.”

For once in his life Sawyer didn’t need to be told twice, and he rolled over and pushed himself backward against Jack, demanding to be fucked. Jack grabbed Sawyer’s shoulder with one hand and his own cock with the other, rubbing it between Sawyer’s cheeks and then, with a long pent-up groan, slid it home. And even then, even in the fullness of need with blessed relief so close, he made himself go slowly. Instead of thrusting, he stroked. Instead of pressing against that spot inside of Sawyer that made him throb and curse, he brushed past it at an angle, with just enough friction to make Sawyer writhe. It wasn’t until the beeping started that he reached around and took Sawyer’s cock in his hand, and even then Jack controlled him. “We’ve got plenty of time,” he muttered against Sawyer’s neck. He used just the right stroke, fucked him at just the right angle, to keep him on the edge but not push him over. Not yet.

At first Jack thought that the noise wasn’t distracting him, that Sawyer maybe couldn’t even hear the beeping over his own moans and Jack’s. But a couple of minutes into it Sawyer started to freeze up, his movements slowed down, all sound stopped except for the hitching of his breath. “Gotta push the button,” he said, and Jack could tell that it was difficult for him to form the words. Jack just kept pumping into him, his rhythm matching that of the alarm. “Jack! The button.”

“Just go with it,” Jack whispered. “Don’t worry about the button. Just concentrate on you. Nothing will happen, remember?” He changed his angle, stimulating Sawyer directly now, and altering the strokes with his hand to massage the head of Sawyer’s cock with just the right amount of pressure.

“God,” Sawyer groaned, and he clenched around Jack and Jack thought, this is it, finally, and he felt the wave rising inside his own body, ready to break, and then Sawyer reared back and caught Jack square under the jaw with the back of his head, and with a mighty thrust he pushed Jack off of him. “If you aren't gonna push that goddamn button, I am.” He tried to get off of the bed but Jack tackled him and pinned him down with his considerably more substantial weight. Sawyer’s face was buried in the pillow so he failed to see the shadowy figure that slipped through the hatch door just as the rhythmic beeping changed to a harsh, urgent bray of alarm. He was still fighting and uttering muffled curses when the series of beeps sounded that signaled the entry of the numbers and the termination of the countdown.

Suddenly, there was silence in the hatch. Jack cleared his throat and said, “Thanks, Kate.”

“Uh, yeah, no problem.” In the dim light Jack could that she was shielding her eyes with her hand. “You guys, um, sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Still holding her hand in front of her eyes, she disappeared through the hatch door.

Even through the muffling layers of the pillow, Sawyer’s “fuck” was clear and distinct. Still reeling from the headbutt, Jack carefully rolled off of Sawyer and braced himself for whatever was to come.

Sawyer lay still for a moment and then rolled over abruptly and raised up on one elbow, lowering his face so he was nose-to-nose with Jack. “That was Kate?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jack tried not to sound sheepish, and failed.

“You told Kate to push the button?”

There was more menace in Sawyer’s voice than Jack cared to think about, but he’d brought this on himself so he just sighed and said, “Yeah.”

“Why?”

This was the hard part. He had to get it just right. “Because I knew you’d try to do it if you thought you had to…no matter what.”

“I said I wouldn’t.”

“I know. But I knew you would, and you did. I just wanted to prove it to you." He paused, choosing sensitive words carefully. "You’re just like the rest of us. We protect each other, even when we don’t know what we’re protecting each other from.” He tilted his neck so that his forehead rested against Sawyer’s. “I trust you.”

Sawyer gave him a hard, puzzled stare. “You planned all of this?”

Jack sighed again. “All but the headbutt,” he said ruefully, rubbing his chin.

“Huh.” Sawyer still wasn’t quite satisfied with Jack’s answers. “Kate knows about us?”

Jack laughed at the consternation in Sawyer’s voice. “Everybody knows about us, dumbass. I sleep here every night. Did you think they think we’re Cub Scouts at summer camp, or something? Nobody cares, it’s just part of who we are.”

“Oh.” Sawyer’s scowl was starting to soften into a more open expression, and need was beginning to creep back in again. “You trust me?”

“Yeah,” Jack said quietly, and he reached for Sawyer, pulling him in, pulling him down on top of Jack. “Let’s finish it that way, okay?”

Sawyer was still hard and slick, and after almost two hours of arousal Jack was ready for anything, and he opened his legs and took Sawyer in without so much as a flinch. Still, as Jack knew he would, Sawyer said, “Are you all right?”

“I’m good.” He pushed up, taking Sawyer as deeply as he could, making them both groan. “I trust you, remember?”

Then they started to move, one giving and the other taking until the lines blurred and neither knew which was which, and when the tightness started in Sawyer’s belly it ignited the familiar coil in Jack’s as well, so connected were they that every sensation that washed over one body traveled through the other, until they both stiffened and cried out and their dark hazy world went bright and sharp for one instant, then two, then three, until it seemed as if it would go on forever. And when the darkness finally began to seep back in, it wasn’t cold and it wasn’t lonely, it was a warm dark blanket that enveloped them both and pulled them down into sleep. Right on the edge, Jack mumbled, “It’s your turn to push the button.”

Sawyer grunted. “Don’t forget to wake me up, then.”

“’Kay.” Jack sighed sleepily. He’d wake up when the beeping started, because that was how he was made. Sawyer would sleep like the dead. But Sawyer trusted Jack to do his part and wake him up when the time came, and then Sawyer would do his part, as well. They’d protect each other, even though they didn’t know what they were protecting each other from. They’d do it because they felt responsible for one another. Even if they didn’t know why.

End