Fic: Looking and Leaping
Title: Looking and Leaping
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Control issues? What control issues? A little moonlight, a little sunrise, a little skinny-dipping. Plot? What plot? No, wait, the sex is the plot. *smacks forehead*
Special Note: Written for zenana7, who mercilessly mocked Ana Lucia in a recent story. Hugs and kisses for the Ana Lucia hate. You’d think as long as it took me to get this done, it would be less clunky, but I had real troubles with it. Hope you like it, dear, and I hope it at least fits some of what you requested from first time J/S smut.
Looking and Leaping
Jack lay awake, his head pounding and his body twitching. The day before had been long, and after a few fitful hours of sleep, to wake up on the floor of a cave, to hear the faraway sound of breathing and coughing, to look up and see rock and trees and feel sticky and hot -- well, it made him restless. So he did what he always did when he felt restless: he let all his thoughts out so he could order them in a useful way. He lay still, trying to go back to sleep, telling himself he had a responsibility to be around in case something happened, then arguing with himself, saying they were all asleep, he had earned a rest, had he not?, he would never be of any use like this tomorrow if he didn’t relax, and finally, he told himself that he needed the water and the moon and the beach breeze or he might go crazy. Plus, he reasoned with an inward sigh of annoyance, he was horny as hell and badly in need of a place that would drown out the furious slap of palm over cock.
Jack took a torch on his walk through the jungle, stopping to put it out at the edge of the encampment, where he could now see by the light of the moon. The faintest hints of dawn were on the horizon, showing the possibility of light without the reality of it, but Jack knew that would come soon once it started; he had been awake for the sunrise enough times that he knew how fast it could be, although he realized that he hadn’t seen the sunrise from the beach in weeks.
He was almost to the water before he began to shed his clothes. The shirt came off first, and he immediately felt cooler with the wind blowing over his stomach. After that, he unzipped his jeans and pulled them off, folding them to keep out as much sand as possible. He looked around, and not seeing a single fire or torch, he removed his boxers, aware that while this seemed a little crazy to him, it was likely to turn out perfectly safe. He toyed with the idea that maybe safe was not what he wanted, but that thought vanished as he found himself exposed and hurrying toward the water.
The ocean was still warm -- somehow, it never cooled, not even at night -- but it felt gloriously soothing to his skin and his nerves. He felt the tension drain away even as he told himself there were still limits; he could still only go so far out because swimming in the dark was a risk. Everything they did seemed to be a risk, but it was less so if they took the time to know what they were doing. Jack had never been fond of leaping without looking. That’s what a leader did: watched everything, so that he could head off trouble. That’s why he noticed that Sawyer had begun looking at him in a way that gave him goose bumps publicly, hard-ons mostly privately, not that he had reciprocated those looks. It was too complicated, because Jack had never let that part of his sexuality out of its box and because this was Sawyer of all people. It had annoyed Jack since day one that Sawyer had some strange power over him, and when he realized that their long-running macho pissing contest was partly a reaction to some powerful lust, Jack felt like every encounter with the man was treacherous. A good day was one in which Sawyer was scarce…or half naked, being viciously funny or quietly charming, and Jack had a few spare minutes to sneak off into the jungle and get off thinking about Sawyer’s hot mouth on his cock.
Chest-deep in the water, Jack began bobbing up and down with the waves, a sensation he’d loved since he was a child. It had always felt like flying to him, touching the ocean floor and shooting up with the rise in water, falling back down to watch for the next burgeoning crest. He stayed out there long enough to let all the thoughts drain from his mind. It was soothing, and though he was far from sleepy -- actually, he was exhilarated from the rhythm of the water -- he knew he would have no trouble resting when he returned to the caves, or maybe he would stay up for the sunrise, napping later when it was too hot to move.
The sky was backlit in tones of deep blue rather than black now as Jack watched it, glad that the trials and problems of the island were balanced by its simple beauties, when people bothered to notice. He went under the water, somehow turning as he did so, and when he resurfaced, he was facing the dark beach, the pale sand illuminated in the moonlight and by the barest impression of the new sunlight as it filtered over the horizon. It wasn’t long before he saw a figure coming toward the water. He let out a sharp breath when he recognized the gait of the walker -- lazy, purposefully so.
Jack’s eyes had adjusted to the dark, and he could make out that it was, indeed, Sawyer, and he was wearing something he couldn’t have known Jack found incredibly sexy. Their standard wardrobe of jeans and t-shirts looked good enough on him, the sweat plastering Sawyer’s shirt to his torso and his jeans hanging down on his hips. But this particular early morning, Sawyer looked cool, ethereal, wearing a white t-shirt hugging the curves of his shoulders, and below that a pair of jeans that sat so wonderfully on his hipbones that Jack took in a deep breath. Sawyer was a strange combination of completely beautiful and jaw-droppingly hot, and it all added up to a person who was free, even his bare feet digging into the sand as he stopped at the water’s edge, and his hair as the wind lifted it from time to time. He felt his pulse begin to pound, but he immediately set about calming himself. Who knew what Sawyer wanted. Besides, Jack didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to do. He shut his eyes tight, wondering how his mind had cut straight to lust, not just possibility but certainty, with simply looking at the man in this new light.
Jack wasn’t too far out, and he found himself letting the current carry him back, slowly, while an insistent shot of adrenaline told him this was dangerous, crazy, exhilarating, insane, because he was moving toward Sawyer, and there was no pretending like it wasn’t happening. His body felt electric, in a way that was stronger than the tension he’d felt in the caves but somehow more satisfying. Still, he had enough sense to stop when he was waist deep in the water, before he reached the point where the waves began to crest toward the shore, but he kept his eyes on Sawyer, watching him in a way that was as close to predatory as he had ever felt.
“What are you doing out there, Doc?” As Sawyer spoke, and his words weren’t grumbled or spit out but perfectly tempered with the sensuality he usually reserved for Kate and with nonchalance, a fake calm that was so obvious it was likely meant to be understood as such. Jack realized that he had taken for granted what Sawyer wanted, not even thinking it could be anything else but what he himself wanted. The thought scared him more than a little, both his own assumptions and the fact that he was right.
Jack took a deep breath. “Just watching you,” he called back, letting enough flirtation creep into his voice that he suddenly felt shaky.
“You enjoying yourself so far?”
“Yeah,” he called back, hoping Sawyer could recognize his tone and see his expression well enough to read him. He shouldn’t have worried, because if Sawyer was good at anything, it was reading people. After all, wasn’t that why he had come out to the water in the first place? At any rate, Sawyer must have seen enough, because his face lit up into a grin. Then he grabbed the back of his collar and tugged his shirt over his head, revealing that hard, tanned chest and that flat stomach Jack was always running his hands and mouth over in his fantasies. His tongue would trace that V that pointed down and into his jeans as his hands fumbled with buttons and zippers until he could slide Sawyer’s pants down and follow the groove until it met his cock. Even though he had no good idea of what it would feel like to do that, to have Sawyer in his mouth, he knew enough of how Sawyer would feel that it made him delirious with the need to taste him, make him come.
This lust of Jack’s nearly always started with looking at Sawyer’s abs, but something interrupted Jack’s vision there as he bobbed up and down in the water: the waistband of a pair of white boxers that peeked out of Sawyer’s jeans. He could imagine that they made a line right through the hair just below Sawyer’s navel.
“Someone told me,” Sawyer called out, running his finger over that waistband, “that you find underwear incredibly sexy.”
Jack sucked in a breath. Sawyer wasn’t going to let him be coy, which was good, because coy wasn’t exactly his style, especially with someone so open, so demanding, so unencumbered by self-consciousness. Not that sexy talk was his style either. It dawned on him that soon people would be up. The sky was getting brighter, maybe enough to begin lighting the water. Not to mention someone might easily hear the things they were calling out to each other. This -- the dawning day, this undeniable call of Sawyer’s body to him -- was dangerous. Still, Jack replied, playing his part, words maintaining denial even as his voice didn’t: “You couldn’t know that. I never said that to anybody.”
“Then maybe I just know exactly what you like.” With that, Sawyer unbuttoned his jeans and let them fall, and Jack took in the sight of Sawyer’s thighs, noting with disappointment that he wasn’t hard yet. Jack found himself floating closer to the shore, his toes digging into a sand bar where the water level was just high enough to lap at his navel, each dip of the gentle waves nearly exposing his cock. It was thrilling, and he was way past thinking rationally, so he said, “Then you know what else I’d like.”
Sawyer smirked. “Why don’t you tell me, just to be sure.”
“I want to see you hard.”
Sawyer’s face betrayed no emotion but that sly humor of their game. “What makes you think you have that sort of effect on me, Doc?”
“I don’t,” he replied. “Just hoping, that’s all.” He pulled a hand back from where it floated at the surface and let it dip under the water at his torso, mostly for show, but he did squeeze his cock hard, letting the sensation cloud his face though he kept his eyes on Sawyer, whose own suddenly grew wide, and, Jack was almost certain, darker.
He murmured something that Jack couldn’t hear, but the meaning was plain as Sawyer’s cock jutted out against his boxers, and suddenly Jack realized that Sawyer had been meaning to tease him, to be in control, most of all of his own body. Jack found that his body was throbbing with need, suddenly too warm out there in the water, and then Sawyer was moving toward him, eyes on Jack as he let the waves lap up over his feet, then his knees, and soon, he was waist deep. He sank below the surface, and Jack immediately imagined Sawyer swimming underwater to him, attacking him with his mouth, surfacing with a gasp for air before kissing Jack hard and wet, tongue sliding and probing. He could almost feel the pressure of Sawyer’s body against his, the heat of his fingers closing around his cock. But Sawyer was surfacing again and moving back to the shore, and it set Jack on edge, almost made him angry, before he realized this was just part of the game. Neither of them really wanted to stop; but they had to do this, give and take like they always did.
Seductive and calm, Sawyer emerged from the water, boxers clinging to every curve of his ass. Jack’s hand nearly went to his cock, but he stopped himself, holding back, biding his time, unwilling to lose the game. He was fascinated as Sawyer took up his place on the shore, dripping wet, still giving him looks that shot straight to his cock. With a wicked smile, he pulled his boxers with agonizing slowness down his hips. Jack couldn’t see him too clearly, but he could read Sawyer’s face, and that was enough. As the head of his cock popped out over the elastic, Sawyer opened his mouth in a groan and slowly pulled the boxers down further, the elastic rubbing over his cock as it revealed itself inch by inch. When he let the underwear drop to the ground in a wet heap and stepped out of it, Jack was shocked to see a rather large cock silhouetted against dark hair. “Fuck,” he muttered.
“This tell you anything about how much I want you, Doc?”
“I think I need more proof,” he called out, a wide grin over his face.
Sawyer walked toward the water again, standing in the surf, letting the wind blow over his face. For a moment, Jack thought he would never answer, but finally, he said, “You touching yourself out there?”
It was a concession, that need to gauge his interest, and it was a small, brief victory for Jack, one he planned to take full advantage of. He shook his head. “No, Sawyer. I’m touching you.”
Sawyer’s eyes closed, and he took his cock in hand and started tugging at it slowly, his eyes finally opening again and locking with Jack’s, and this was no longer playful but real, serious; to Jack, dizzying. Jack dug his fingernails into whatever bit of skin was under them, determined not to succumb to this, although he knew he was already losing any control he had just gained. Sawyer wasn’t searching over the dark water to see his body anymore, only his face, and he only broke eye contact for a few seconds when his body shuddered and his lids slid shut, his eyes rolling back into his head. Jack had never seen anyone jerk off before, and it was the strangest thing, so intrusively intimate, except he was being invited into the experience. The way Sawyer touched himself, it was as if he relished sliding his thumb over the head of his cock, squeezing it at the base, his other hand cradling his balls. But then there was the other part of that look on Sawyer’s face that begged him to join in, that said it would never be enough until Jack’s hands were on him.
Jack found that he was holding his breath, his whole body clenched as he absorbed himself in watching Sawyer and fought not to touch himself. This was important, to show Sawyer that he wouldn’t lose. But then his brain, or what parts of it were actually still working, set about its usual logical process. What did it gain for him to beat Sawyer at this game? Nothing. He would watch Sawyer come, which was unsatisfying because he wasn’t touching him or being touched, and he wouldn’t even get off. And to think of how much fun Sawyer could be when he was firmly in control of something. To think of how much fun it could be to be under that control.
Jack called out, “Stop it, Sawyer.” He was crazy if he thought Sawyer would stop, but he did look at him questioningly. Then Jack let out a loud breath and admitted defeat, gladly and for the first time in their perpetual battle of wills: “Dammit, will you just stop teasing me and come out here!”
He halfway expected gloating, but there wasn’t any. Sawyer simply stopped touching himself and immediately headed for the water. Now, it was Sawyer’s turn to look predatory; he kept his eyes fixed on Jack like he might swallow him alive if he could only reach him. Jack thought he couldn’t breathe as he waited, and for so many reasons he couldn’t even begin to list them much less order them. Sawyer’s body was soon slamming against Jack’s, and his mouth captured his hungrily. Hands on either side of his face, Sawyer forced their heads together, kissing him like he was trying to take the breath from his body, sucking his lower lip, breaking the skin there so that Jack tasted blood.
Jack found that their hips were locked so tightly together that he couldn’t get his hands on Sawyer’s cock, so he let his hands squeeze anything he could reach -- biceps, shoulders, back, legs, ass. Suddenly, Sawyer withdrew from Jack’s arms and turned him, now plastering his body to Jack’s back, and he held him with his hands tight around his stomach. He was now somehow on a slightly lower part of the sandbar, so his cock slipped between Jack’s thighs, nudging his balls.
Into his ear, Sawyer said, “Now you’re gonna touch yourself, and you’re gonna think about me touching you and what I plan to do to you the next time I catch you skinny-dipping and looking like something made to be fucked.” He was shocked by the dirty talk -- only because it was addressed to him -- and it made him so hot he had no trouble taking his cock in hand as Sawyer bit down on his neck, sucking his skin and soon tracing a tongue over his shoulder blade. “You be as loud as you want,” Sawyer murmured. “I wanna hear you.”
Jack found his hand speeding up and Sawyer’s grip growing tighter as he shoved his cock between Jack’s thighs, up and against Jack’s ass with each thrust of Jack’s hips. Sawyer’s hands roamed his body, light touches on his face and neck, harder ones where his body was below the water. Jack was overwhelmed with sensations, and when Sawyer slid a hand down under the water and stroked his fingers over his balls, he thought he would come, but Sawyer’s other hand was there stilling his own, slowing it down.
Sawyer said, “Do you want this, Jack?”
“Fuck,” he said. “Fuck, yes, are you stupid?”
Casually: “Did you enjoy the show?”
“Sawyer,” he said, and he was surprised to hear his voice come out a hiss.
Then Sawyer’s voice dipped, coming out a low growl, controlled, but only barely: “I’ve been real careful with you, but when you come out here begging for it, I can’t stop myself. I wanna fuck you so bad I can’t breathe. I wanna see you need it just as bad.”
Before Jack could say anything, Sawyer’s rough, strong hand was deftly replacing his own and settling into a fast rhythm. Sawyer’s cock thrust between his legs, and Sawyer kissed and nipped at his neck, his breathing shallow in his ears. Jack felt his own body tense, some part of him fighting the orgasm and some other part fighting to not fall into Sawyer’s arms.
Sawyer mumbled, “You’re wound so tight. I can always feel it from you, and it makes me so fucking hard. But I want you to stop thinking so much and just feel everything, every place I’m touching you. I’m not coming until you just let it all go. Fuck, just come for me, Jack” Sawyer whispered.
Jack felt every muscle in his body give as the sensation of the ocean licked and stroked at his body, matching the places where Sawyer’s mouth and fingers were already on him, fierce but sensually erotic like the long, slow groans Sawyer made in his ear. With a thrust of Sawyer’s hips, Jack was coming, calling out something, he wasn’t even sure what. Then, almost instinctively, he turned in Sawyer’s arms and began shoving his tongue into his mouth, those grateful, delirious kisses that happen after someone sends you so far over the edge you haven’t thought about how to come back.
And maybe Sawyer was already gone too, because he wasn’t controlling anything anymore, only grabbing and kissing and almost throwing his body against Jack’s. He felt Sawyer’s hips thrusting against his, cock grinding against hipbone now with more intensity. Feeling Sawyer that way made him tense up again with arousal, wanting to meet Sawyer’s body with his own, relentless and desperate, wanting to make Sawyer come, and hard. He nipped at Sawyer’s ear, saying, “God, that was so fucking good, Sawyer. So good,” and then Sawyer was holding him tighter, bucking against him and coming, saying, “Oh God. Fuck. Fuck.” The hot rush against his thigh was quickly washed away by the current, and Jack kissed him again and again, just to feel the moans buzz through his mouth.
If Jack expected anything, it was that Sawyer would tear himself away and head back to shore, but he stayed there in the water, kissing him, now more slowly but just as deeply, carefully tasting his mouth and smoothing his hands over Jack’s wet skin as their breath and heart rate slowed down again. Every time the current caught them unawares and forced them apart, Sawyer’s hands pulled him back, resettling them in each other’s arms. Soon, they realized the sky had grown lighter around them-not exactly daylight yet, but it was fast approaching.
With his forehead resting against Jack’s, Sawyer said, “This what you came out here for, Doc?”
“Yes, exactly,” he said. “It was my intention to get my favorite person on the island to give me a hand job.” Sawyer laughed, pulling him closer. Jack added, “What about you?”
“What about me.”
“Why in the hell did you come out here?”
“If you weren’t listening before, I ain’t repeating it.”
Jack kissed him hard. “No, I heard you. I just don’t know what happens next.”
“Hell, Doc, you can’t tell what I might do.” Raising his eyebrows and pulling out of Jack’s arms, he began to wade toward the shore. Jack followed the pale light on his shoulders, already beating back the list of reasons why this was crazy, already hungry for him again.
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Control issues? What control issues? A little moonlight, a little sunrise, a little skinny-dipping. Plot? What plot? No, wait, the sex is the plot. *smacks forehead*
Special Note: Written for zenana7, who mercilessly mocked Ana Lucia in a recent story. Hugs and kisses for the Ana Lucia hate. You’d think as long as it took me to get this done, it would be less clunky, but I had real troubles with it. Hope you like it, dear, and I hope it at least fits some of what you requested from first time J/S smut.
Looking and Leaping
Jack lay awake, his head pounding and his body twitching. The day before had been long, and after a few fitful hours of sleep, to wake up on the floor of a cave, to hear the faraway sound of breathing and coughing, to look up and see rock and trees and feel sticky and hot -- well, it made him restless. So he did what he always did when he felt restless: he let all his thoughts out so he could order them in a useful way. He lay still, trying to go back to sleep, telling himself he had a responsibility to be around in case something happened, then arguing with himself, saying they were all asleep, he had earned a rest, had he not?, he would never be of any use like this tomorrow if he didn’t relax, and finally, he told himself that he needed the water and the moon and the beach breeze or he might go crazy. Plus, he reasoned with an inward sigh of annoyance, he was horny as hell and badly in need of a place that would drown out the furious slap of palm over cock.
Jack took a torch on his walk through the jungle, stopping to put it out at the edge of the encampment, where he could now see by the light of the moon. The faintest hints of dawn were on the horizon, showing the possibility of light without the reality of it, but Jack knew that would come soon once it started; he had been awake for the sunrise enough times that he knew how fast it could be, although he realized that he hadn’t seen the sunrise from the beach in weeks.
He was almost to the water before he began to shed his clothes. The shirt came off first, and he immediately felt cooler with the wind blowing over his stomach. After that, he unzipped his jeans and pulled them off, folding them to keep out as much sand as possible. He looked around, and not seeing a single fire or torch, he removed his boxers, aware that while this seemed a little crazy to him, it was likely to turn out perfectly safe. He toyed with the idea that maybe safe was not what he wanted, but that thought vanished as he found himself exposed and hurrying toward the water.
The ocean was still warm -- somehow, it never cooled, not even at night -- but it felt gloriously soothing to his skin and his nerves. He felt the tension drain away even as he told himself there were still limits; he could still only go so far out because swimming in the dark was a risk. Everything they did seemed to be a risk, but it was less so if they took the time to know what they were doing. Jack had never been fond of leaping without looking. That’s what a leader did: watched everything, so that he could head off trouble. That’s why he noticed that Sawyer had begun looking at him in a way that gave him goose bumps publicly, hard-ons mostly privately, not that he had reciprocated those looks. It was too complicated, because Jack had never let that part of his sexuality out of its box and because this was Sawyer of all people. It had annoyed Jack since day one that Sawyer had some strange power over him, and when he realized that their long-running macho pissing contest was partly a reaction to some powerful lust, Jack felt like every encounter with the man was treacherous. A good day was one in which Sawyer was scarce…or half naked, being viciously funny or quietly charming, and Jack had a few spare minutes to sneak off into the jungle and get off thinking about Sawyer’s hot mouth on his cock.
Chest-deep in the water, Jack began bobbing up and down with the waves, a sensation he’d loved since he was a child. It had always felt like flying to him, touching the ocean floor and shooting up with the rise in water, falling back down to watch for the next burgeoning crest. He stayed out there long enough to let all the thoughts drain from his mind. It was soothing, and though he was far from sleepy -- actually, he was exhilarated from the rhythm of the water -- he knew he would have no trouble resting when he returned to the caves, or maybe he would stay up for the sunrise, napping later when it was too hot to move.
The sky was backlit in tones of deep blue rather than black now as Jack watched it, glad that the trials and problems of the island were balanced by its simple beauties, when people bothered to notice. He went under the water, somehow turning as he did so, and when he resurfaced, he was facing the dark beach, the pale sand illuminated in the moonlight and by the barest impression of the new sunlight as it filtered over the horizon. It wasn’t long before he saw a figure coming toward the water. He let out a sharp breath when he recognized the gait of the walker -- lazy, purposefully so.
Jack’s eyes had adjusted to the dark, and he could make out that it was, indeed, Sawyer, and he was wearing something he couldn’t have known Jack found incredibly sexy. Their standard wardrobe of jeans and t-shirts looked good enough on him, the sweat plastering Sawyer’s shirt to his torso and his jeans hanging down on his hips. But this particular early morning, Sawyer looked cool, ethereal, wearing a white t-shirt hugging the curves of his shoulders, and below that a pair of jeans that sat so wonderfully on his hipbones that Jack took in a deep breath. Sawyer was a strange combination of completely beautiful and jaw-droppingly hot, and it all added up to a person who was free, even his bare feet digging into the sand as he stopped at the water’s edge, and his hair as the wind lifted it from time to time. He felt his pulse begin to pound, but he immediately set about calming himself. Who knew what Sawyer wanted. Besides, Jack didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to do. He shut his eyes tight, wondering how his mind had cut straight to lust, not just possibility but certainty, with simply looking at the man in this new light.
Jack wasn’t too far out, and he found himself letting the current carry him back, slowly, while an insistent shot of adrenaline told him this was dangerous, crazy, exhilarating, insane, because he was moving toward Sawyer, and there was no pretending like it wasn’t happening. His body felt electric, in a way that was stronger than the tension he’d felt in the caves but somehow more satisfying. Still, he had enough sense to stop when he was waist deep in the water, before he reached the point where the waves began to crest toward the shore, but he kept his eyes on Sawyer, watching him in a way that was as close to predatory as he had ever felt.
“What are you doing out there, Doc?” As Sawyer spoke, and his words weren’t grumbled or spit out but perfectly tempered with the sensuality he usually reserved for Kate and with nonchalance, a fake calm that was so obvious it was likely meant to be understood as such. Jack realized that he had taken for granted what Sawyer wanted, not even thinking it could be anything else but what he himself wanted. The thought scared him more than a little, both his own assumptions and the fact that he was right.
Jack took a deep breath. “Just watching you,” he called back, letting enough flirtation creep into his voice that he suddenly felt shaky.
“You enjoying yourself so far?”
“Yeah,” he called back, hoping Sawyer could recognize his tone and see his expression well enough to read him. He shouldn’t have worried, because if Sawyer was good at anything, it was reading people. After all, wasn’t that why he had come out to the water in the first place? At any rate, Sawyer must have seen enough, because his face lit up into a grin. Then he grabbed the back of his collar and tugged his shirt over his head, revealing that hard, tanned chest and that flat stomach Jack was always running his hands and mouth over in his fantasies. His tongue would trace that V that pointed down and into his jeans as his hands fumbled with buttons and zippers until he could slide Sawyer’s pants down and follow the groove until it met his cock. Even though he had no good idea of what it would feel like to do that, to have Sawyer in his mouth, he knew enough of how Sawyer would feel that it made him delirious with the need to taste him, make him come.
This lust of Jack’s nearly always started with looking at Sawyer’s abs, but something interrupted Jack’s vision there as he bobbed up and down in the water: the waistband of a pair of white boxers that peeked out of Sawyer’s jeans. He could imagine that they made a line right through the hair just below Sawyer’s navel.
“Someone told me,” Sawyer called out, running his finger over that waistband, “that you find underwear incredibly sexy.”
Jack sucked in a breath. Sawyer wasn’t going to let him be coy, which was good, because coy wasn’t exactly his style, especially with someone so open, so demanding, so unencumbered by self-consciousness. Not that sexy talk was his style either. It dawned on him that soon people would be up. The sky was getting brighter, maybe enough to begin lighting the water. Not to mention someone might easily hear the things they were calling out to each other. This -- the dawning day, this undeniable call of Sawyer’s body to him -- was dangerous. Still, Jack replied, playing his part, words maintaining denial even as his voice didn’t: “You couldn’t know that. I never said that to anybody.”
“Then maybe I just know exactly what you like.” With that, Sawyer unbuttoned his jeans and let them fall, and Jack took in the sight of Sawyer’s thighs, noting with disappointment that he wasn’t hard yet. Jack found himself floating closer to the shore, his toes digging into a sand bar where the water level was just high enough to lap at his navel, each dip of the gentle waves nearly exposing his cock. It was thrilling, and he was way past thinking rationally, so he said, “Then you know what else I’d like.”
Sawyer smirked. “Why don’t you tell me, just to be sure.”
“I want to see you hard.”
Sawyer’s face betrayed no emotion but that sly humor of their game. “What makes you think you have that sort of effect on me, Doc?”
“I don’t,” he replied. “Just hoping, that’s all.” He pulled a hand back from where it floated at the surface and let it dip under the water at his torso, mostly for show, but he did squeeze his cock hard, letting the sensation cloud his face though he kept his eyes on Sawyer, whose own suddenly grew wide, and, Jack was almost certain, darker.
He murmured something that Jack couldn’t hear, but the meaning was plain as Sawyer’s cock jutted out against his boxers, and suddenly Jack realized that Sawyer had been meaning to tease him, to be in control, most of all of his own body. Jack found that his body was throbbing with need, suddenly too warm out there in the water, and then Sawyer was moving toward him, eyes on Jack as he let the waves lap up over his feet, then his knees, and soon, he was waist deep. He sank below the surface, and Jack immediately imagined Sawyer swimming underwater to him, attacking him with his mouth, surfacing with a gasp for air before kissing Jack hard and wet, tongue sliding and probing. He could almost feel the pressure of Sawyer’s body against his, the heat of his fingers closing around his cock. But Sawyer was surfacing again and moving back to the shore, and it set Jack on edge, almost made him angry, before he realized this was just part of the game. Neither of them really wanted to stop; but they had to do this, give and take like they always did.
Seductive and calm, Sawyer emerged from the water, boxers clinging to every curve of his ass. Jack’s hand nearly went to his cock, but he stopped himself, holding back, biding his time, unwilling to lose the game. He was fascinated as Sawyer took up his place on the shore, dripping wet, still giving him looks that shot straight to his cock. With a wicked smile, he pulled his boxers with agonizing slowness down his hips. Jack couldn’t see him too clearly, but he could read Sawyer’s face, and that was enough. As the head of his cock popped out over the elastic, Sawyer opened his mouth in a groan and slowly pulled the boxers down further, the elastic rubbing over his cock as it revealed itself inch by inch. When he let the underwear drop to the ground in a wet heap and stepped out of it, Jack was shocked to see a rather large cock silhouetted against dark hair. “Fuck,” he muttered.
“This tell you anything about how much I want you, Doc?”
“I think I need more proof,” he called out, a wide grin over his face.
Sawyer walked toward the water again, standing in the surf, letting the wind blow over his face. For a moment, Jack thought he would never answer, but finally, he said, “You touching yourself out there?”
It was a concession, that need to gauge his interest, and it was a small, brief victory for Jack, one he planned to take full advantage of. He shook his head. “No, Sawyer. I’m touching you.”
Sawyer’s eyes closed, and he took his cock in hand and started tugging at it slowly, his eyes finally opening again and locking with Jack’s, and this was no longer playful but real, serious; to Jack, dizzying. Jack dug his fingernails into whatever bit of skin was under them, determined not to succumb to this, although he knew he was already losing any control he had just gained. Sawyer wasn’t searching over the dark water to see his body anymore, only his face, and he only broke eye contact for a few seconds when his body shuddered and his lids slid shut, his eyes rolling back into his head. Jack had never seen anyone jerk off before, and it was the strangest thing, so intrusively intimate, except he was being invited into the experience. The way Sawyer touched himself, it was as if he relished sliding his thumb over the head of his cock, squeezing it at the base, his other hand cradling his balls. But then there was the other part of that look on Sawyer’s face that begged him to join in, that said it would never be enough until Jack’s hands were on him.
Jack found that he was holding his breath, his whole body clenched as he absorbed himself in watching Sawyer and fought not to touch himself. This was important, to show Sawyer that he wouldn’t lose. But then his brain, or what parts of it were actually still working, set about its usual logical process. What did it gain for him to beat Sawyer at this game? Nothing. He would watch Sawyer come, which was unsatisfying because he wasn’t touching him or being touched, and he wouldn’t even get off. And to think of how much fun Sawyer could be when he was firmly in control of something. To think of how much fun it could be to be under that control.
Jack called out, “Stop it, Sawyer.” He was crazy if he thought Sawyer would stop, but he did look at him questioningly. Then Jack let out a loud breath and admitted defeat, gladly and for the first time in their perpetual battle of wills: “Dammit, will you just stop teasing me and come out here!”
He halfway expected gloating, but there wasn’t any. Sawyer simply stopped touching himself and immediately headed for the water. Now, it was Sawyer’s turn to look predatory; he kept his eyes fixed on Jack like he might swallow him alive if he could only reach him. Jack thought he couldn’t breathe as he waited, and for so many reasons he couldn’t even begin to list them much less order them. Sawyer’s body was soon slamming against Jack’s, and his mouth captured his hungrily. Hands on either side of his face, Sawyer forced their heads together, kissing him like he was trying to take the breath from his body, sucking his lower lip, breaking the skin there so that Jack tasted blood.
Jack found that their hips were locked so tightly together that he couldn’t get his hands on Sawyer’s cock, so he let his hands squeeze anything he could reach -- biceps, shoulders, back, legs, ass. Suddenly, Sawyer withdrew from Jack’s arms and turned him, now plastering his body to Jack’s back, and he held him with his hands tight around his stomach. He was now somehow on a slightly lower part of the sandbar, so his cock slipped between Jack’s thighs, nudging his balls.
Into his ear, Sawyer said, “Now you’re gonna touch yourself, and you’re gonna think about me touching you and what I plan to do to you the next time I catch you skinny-dipping and looking like something made to be fucked.” He was shocked by the dirty talk -- only because it was addressed to him -- and it made him so hot he had no trouble taking his cock in hand as Sawyer bit down on his neck, sucking his skin and soon tracing a tongue over his shoulder blade. “You be as loud as you want,” Sawyer murmured. “I wanna hear you.”
Jack found his hand speeding up and Sawyer’s grip growing tighter as he shoved his cock between Jack’s thighs, up and against Jack’s ass with each thrust of Jack’s hips. Sawyer’s hands roamed his body, light touches on his face and neck, harder ones where his body was below the water. Jack was overwhelmed with sensations, and when Sawyer slid a hand down under the water and stroked his fingers over his balls, he thought he would come, but Sawyer’s other hand was there stilling his own, slowing it down.
Sawyer said, “Do you want this, Jack?”
“Fuck,” he said. “Fuck, yes, are you stupid?”
Casually: “Did you enjoy the show?”
“Sawyer,” he said, and he was surprised to hear his voice come out a hiss.
Then Sawyer’s voice dipped, coming out a low growl, controlled, but only barely: “I’ve been real careful with you, but when you come out here begging for it, I can’t stop myself. I wanna fuck you so bad I can’t breathe. I wanna see you need it just as bad.”
Before Jack could say anything, Sawyer’s rough, strong hand was deftly replacing his own and settling into a fast rhythm. Sawyer’s cock thrust between his legs, and Sawyer kissed and nipped at his neck, his breathing shallow in his ears. Jack felt his own body tense, some part of him fighting the orgasm and some other part fighting to not fall into Sawyer’s arms.
Sawyer mumbled, “You’re wound so tight. I can always feel it from you, and it makes me so fucking hard. But I want you to stop thinking so much and just feel everything, every place I’m touching you. I’m not coming until you just let it all go. Fuck, just come for me, Jack” Sawyer whispered.
Jack felt every muscle in his body give as the sensation of the ocean licked and stroked at his body, matching the places where Sawyer’s mouth and fingers were already on him, fierce but sensually erotic like the long, slow groans Sawyer made in his ear. With a thrust of Sawyer’s hips, Jack was coming, calling out something, he wasn’t even sure what. Then, almost instinctively, he turned in Sawyer’s arms and began shoving his tongue into his mouth, those grateful, delirious kisses that happen after someone sends you so far over the edge you haven’t thought about how to come back.
And maybe Sawyer was already gone too, because he wasn’t controlling anything anymore, only grabbing and kissing and almost throwing his body against Jack’s. He felt Sawyer’s hips thrusting against his, cock grinding against hipbone now with more intensity. Feeling Sawyer that way made him tense up again with arousal, wanting to meet Sawyer’s body with his own, relentless and desperate, wanting to make Sawyer come, and hard. He nipped at Sawyer’s ear, saying, “God, that was so fucking good, Sawyer. So good,” and then Sawyer was holding him tighter, bucking against him and coming, saying, “Oh God. Fuck. Fuck.” The hot rush against his thigh was quickly washed away by the current, and Jack kissed him again and again, just to feel the moans buzz through his mouth.
If Jack expected anything, it was that Sawyer would tear himself away and head back to shore, but he stayed there in the water, kissing him, now more slowly but just as deeply, carefully tasting his mouth and smoothing his hands over Jack’s wet skin as their breath and heart rate slowed down again. Every time the current caught them unawares and forced them apart, Sawyer’s hands pulled him back, resettling them in each other’s arms. Soon, they realized the sky had grown lighter around them-not exactly daylight yet, but it was fast approaching.
With his forehead resting against Jack’s, Sawyer said, “This what you came out here for, Doc?”
“Yes, exactly,” he said. “It was my intention to get my favorite person on the island to give me a hand job.” Sawyer laughed, pulling him closer. Jack added, “What about you?”
“What about me.”
“Why in the hell did you come out here?”
“If you weren’t listening before, I ain’t repeating it.”
Jack kissed him hard. “No, I heard you. I just don’t know what happens next.”
“Hell, Doc, you can’t tell what I might do.” Raising his eyebrows and pulling out of Jack’s arms, he began to wade toward the shore. Jack followed the pale light on his shoulders, already beating back the list of reasons why this was crazy, already hungry for him again.