Lip Service
Title: Lip Service
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer
Rating: NC-17 for explicit dirty talk
Spoilers: None - AU
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Warning: Um…might not want to read this if you’re a Conservative Republican. I mean, if you’re reading slash, what are the odds, but just in case…you’re warned. Because...I wrote gay porn that also involves my intense dislike for the current administration. Oh, how they would plotz if they knew.
Summary: Jack & Sawyer are in the Secret Service and man, is Sawyer frisky for Jack in a Suit. Thank you, Vantage Point. This is supposed to be funny, so hopefully it is, and since I obviously know absolutely nothing about being a Special Agent, it is also thoroughly and completely inaccurate. ;)
It’s hot. Way too damn hot.
Sawyer tugs on the starched collar of his white dress shirt with as much nonchalance as he can muster and then returns his hands to a folded position directly in front of him.
“Tell me again why we have to wear god damn suits.” He asks Jack, turning his head just a little sideways so Jack can hear his request over the din of the crowd.
“What would you rather have us wear?” Jack arches one eyebrow but otherwise his face remains inexpressive.
“I don’t know. Short shorts and mesh tops?” Sawyer turns to survey the swarming mass of people, tossing off his suggestion casually as he scans the mish mash of red white and blue signs they all seem to be waving underneath the hot Texan sun. The catchphrases echo the talking points, or the talking points echo the catchphrases, but either way Sawyer is sick of reading the same nonsense day in and day out. He resists the urge to grab the one about how watching Rosie O’Donnell is letting the terrorists win and bash the carrier over the head with it.
That would definitely get him fired. Hell, these days, it’d probably earn him a one-way ticket to Gitmo.
“What?” Jack asks the question distractedly, only having half heard Sawyer’s intentionally ludicrous suggestion. Sawyer eyes him, knowing he doesn’t have Jack’s full attention, and presses it a bit further.
“Y’know, we could dance around and wave rainbow flags and throw confetti and everyone would be so confused and dismayed that no one would even think about bothering the President. Misdirection. Job well done.”
“Are you high?” Jack tilts his head downward slightly and peers at Sawyer over the top of his dark sunglasses. “I mean, you know that they screen us for drugs, right? You can’t be-“
“Jesus Christ, I’m joking, you stupid ass.” He rolls his eyes even though Jack can’t see him do it behind the jet black tint of his own Ray-Bans.
“You probably shouldn’t take that name in vain in this crowd, Sawyer. You might start a riot.”
“I swear, you get on duty and you check your sense of humor at the door.” Sawyer snipes quietly through tight lips. “Besides, I can take a bunch of Bible Thumpers any day.”
“Too bad the Democrats can’t.” Jack mutters.
“You smack talking politics while on the job, Agent Shephard?” Sawyer almost smiles but then remembers such a thing is strictly forbidden and tries to stop.
“I didn’t say a word. I love my job. I love this administration.” Jack plants his feet shoulder width apart and stares fixatedly out on the crowd as he repeats the same mantra he has been using for the past six and a half years. “I would die for my country.”
“I would die for a fucking air conditioner.”
“We have more important things to do than complain, don’t you think?” Jack reasons. Sawyer looks him up and down, irked.
“How aren’t you sweating? You look like…”
“Like what.” Jack prompts and Sawyer smirks, dropping his first thought and going with another.
“You look good.” His face is straight but his thoughts certainly aren’t. Jack shakes his head and doesn’t reply. “How come you look so good?”
“I’m used to it, I suppose. I’m surprised you aren’t.”
“Used to it or not, it seems ridiculous to be wearing these things in 100 degree weather! I’m sweating so much that if I have to reach for my gun, it’s going to slip right outta my hands and go off. I might shoot the First Lady in the ass.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“The First Lady has a nice ass. It’d be a pity.”
“I sure hope no one hears you over the comm, Sawyer.” Jack warns him.
“I ain’t pressin’ the button, it’s not like I’m broadcasting it,” Sawyer scoffs. “Hey, you-“
“Excuse me, you have to move back, sir.” Jack sternly warns a young man who is pressing too hard against the barricade along the sidewalk. Jack turns to him and gestures down the length of the temporary metal fences. “You’re pretty out of position, Sawyer. It’s T minus 15, you should get back.”
“You’re no fun.”
“Well when we’re both fired for fraternization while on duty, you tell them that. Just say there simply wasn’t enough entertainment in this for us,” Jack comments through tight lips. He glances over his shoulder, hoping that no one of importance has noticed their continuing conversation.
“I did always think this job promised more excitement than it delivered.”
“Go manage a Hooters if you want excitement,” retorts Jack and points down the line toward where Sawyer is supposed to be.
“Hooters ain’t exciting no more,” Sawyer says with an almost imperceptible shrug. He looks past Jack to the other side of the crowd, bringing his hand to his ear and pretending that he is responding to something heard over the radio. “Boobs just don’t do it for me. I blame you.”
“Agent Ford-“
“They got a male version of that joint yet?”
“Okay, now you’re trying to piss me off.” Jack’s head jerks toward him and Sawyer can feel the heat of his stern glare even if he can’t see it. His mouth is set into a don’t-fuck-with-me frown and Sawyer struggles to force his own face into a mirror of that expression, knowing it simply won’t do to collapse into a fit of amused giggles over how easy it is to press Jack’s buttons.
“What would they call it, I wonder? Cocks?” Sawyer tosses off one last remark before turning on his heel and walking away from their conversation.
“Sir, step back or I will remove you from the area.” Sawyer wonders if Jack even heard him before he barked out his second warning to the We-Need-Prayer-in-School zealot, but when he reaches his post and looks back, Jack shakes his head at him once, twice, and Sawyer can tell that behind that stony countenance is a smile just itching to get out.
*******
“Well that was pointless.” Sawyer mutters as he falls in step beside Jack on the way back to the motorcade.
“I’m not quite sure it was even supposed to have a point.”
“I don’t think Hayseed was so sure either.” Sawyer sighs, frustrated. “You’d think they’d have someone help him process his speeches before he verbally regurgitated them.”
“You’d think. And that’s the difference right there.”
“I can’t believe we had to come all the way down to El Paso for what was basically a photo op with Iraq vets.”
“After seven years, you’re still surprised by the staged photo-op?” Jack asks skeptically. Sawyer grunts, shrugging. He’s not surprised. Just annoyed. "You seem as cynical as me today, Sawyer."
“Maybe it's because I'm capping off this day of flagrant propaganda by being temporarily dispatched to assist Malificent’s security detail for the afternoon. She’s got a meeting to take about proposed immigration law across town before wheels up and apparently there’s been a few threats. They're tasking some extra protection.”
“There are always threats.” Jack murmurs. His gun is heavy at his side but thankfully he’s never had occasion to use it. He adjusts the holster unconsciously and then drops his hands to his sides. “I take it the President didn’t see fit to accompany her, because we are all returning to the airport early. He wants to see HAL off to Wyoming.”
“Oh ho ho, look who’s not above usin’ my derogatory codenames when you’re the one stuck with the worst of ‘em,” Sawyer mentions with a pleased grin, pointing at Jack in mock accusation.
“He may be the worst in theory, Sawyer, but no one really has to deal with him. I think they only worry vaguely for the VP's safety. I don’t think that he can actually be taken down. He’s like an uncool version of the Terminator.” Jack retorts. He takes off his sunglasses and winces in the bright sunlight as he cleans a speck of dirt from the lens. “Whereas with POTUS we have to worry that one day he might get curious and stick his fingers in a light socket just to see what happens.”
“Your patience for the man is wearing thin, ain’t it.” Sawyer remarks as Jack’s dark eyes are once again obscured by his sunglasses.
"We have to protect him, but no one said we have to like him."
"Don't have to tell me. We got just as much right to hate our bosses as everybody else..."
“You know it’s bad when I long for the days of Clinton.” Jack sighs.
“Who knows, maybe next year it’ll be Clinton Redux.” Sawyer suggests helpfully.
“I do wonder how that would work, having a former and a current president in the White House at the same time. The formalities are going to be a pain in the ass to figure out.”
“I’m already thinking I’ll dub her Becky Sharp.” Sawyer stops in front of the black sedan that he’ll be taking to the meeting. Jack pauses by his side, glancing up the line toward where the VIPs will make their exit from the building.
“Vicious.” It’s an amused admonishment that has absolutely no teeth to it. Sawyer smiles and rubs his chin, pretending to ponder.
“If it’s Obama, I’m going with Fresh Prince.”
“Are you serious?”
“Have you seen those ears? It’s like he’s his long lost brother.”
“It’s hardly original.”
“Well, sometimes you gotta go with what works.” An order comes over their radios and both of them slip back into work mode, nodding to one another in goodbye before moving apart. Sawyer forces the smile from his face, preparing to stonily greet Secretary Rice and help her to the car with professional and impersonal respect.
His effort almost fails, his smile coming back of its own accord. He may hate the rare times when he and Jack are tasked to separate details, but he certainly doesn’t mind watching him walk away.
His eyes trained on Jack’s ass, Sawyer pushes the button with a deliberate finger and the sound drops out in his earpiece, giving him the silence to hear himself speak.
“Boy Scout.”
Jack’s next step stutters, hesitates, but he quickly keeps moving. Sawyer knows he heard him radio and is simply refusing to answer. Jack is determined never to speak the nickname Sawyer had given himself, nor acknowledge the one Sawyer had gifted him.
But it doesn’t matter if he replies, as long as he’s listening.
“You’re makin’ me hungry. Apple pie, 1700.” Sawyer chuckles when Jack tosses him a look back over his shoulder, somewhere between an angry glare and an embarrassed grimace. “A la mode. Whipped cream. The works.”
“10-4.” Jack coughs and quickly disappears from view, turning to hurry up the stairs toward the back entrance of the building.
“Agent Ford, make your dessert plans another time.” Another voice buzzes in his ear and Sawyer at least has the good sense to wipe the goofy grin from his face, stand up straight, and pretend he isn’t insanely aroused underneath his finely pressed black pants. He isn’t too worried. Nothing will calm down a raging hard-on like a half-hour long car ride with the Secretary of State.
*******
“Agent Shephard, scan to preset 5.”
Jack, knowing better than to ask the numerous questions that pop up when Sawyer’s voice breaks over the comm., simply turns the dial as furtively as possible, his hand slipping to the IFB receiver attached to his belt.
“Where are you?” Jack’s eyes dart about the spacious cabin, his brow furrowing in puzzlement. They’ve been in the air twenty minutes and he has yet to actually lay eyes on his boyfriend. He knows that Sawyer must be on board because Air Force One was not scheduled to leave without Rice and her team, but he’s had work to do and hasn’t had time to find him.
“Check your watch.”
Jack glances down at his wrist and frowns. Sawyer always was punctual when it came to this.
“Time to make you feel special, Special Agent,” Sawyer teases and Jack draws in a deep breath.
“Seriously. Where are you.”
“You don’t need to know where I am. Just keep it quiet, try not to scare poor Cindy.” He can hear Sawyer’s grin; his drawl is pronounced, dripping with lazy warmth, the tease there already. Jack looks toward the flight attendant who is working her way down the aisle, a tall brunette who liked to casually flirt with him from time to time during their frequent flights.
As a member of the Presidential Protective Detail, it was hard not to become incredibly familiar with the same faces and places.
Sawyer tended not to like how familiar Cindy behaved.
“And don’t talk. It makes people ask questions.”
“Sawyer-“
“Jack…” Sawyer warns. “Y’know I don’t like chit chat when I’m touching your cock…”
“You’re…what…?” Jack looks around guiltily, hoping to god that no one else is on this channel. He knows Sawyer wouldn’t have taken the risk if there was the chance…or maybe he would have…
He still can’t see Sawyer anywhere but he’s too embarrassed to get up and search him out, his face burning too hot.
“That’s right…got my hand wrapped around it and damn you’re beautiful when you’re so nice and hard, Jack…” Sawyer makes an appreciative noise right in his ear. “Long and thick and ughhh…god, I love it when you’ve got it inside me. Deep in, making me scream for you…Don’t you like it when you’re inside me?”
Jack knows he’s not supposed to answer. He sits bolt upright in his seat, willing himself to remain cool, calm and collected. He picks up the magazine from the seat beside him and opens it up, lifting it to shield his flushed face until he can regain control.
“I love it when I’m in you. Tight and hot…you’re always so tight. Every time’s like the god damned first time. Always so wound up, Jack…wound up until you gotta explode. When you lose it, it’s so perfect…only time you’re ever relaxed…when I come inside you, lay down on top of you, you’re just liquid, meltin’ into the blankets…it feels so damn good.”
The images bombard Jack, escaping from his memory into the present, vivid and sensual. Sawyer made love like he talked, slow and honeyed but with an undercurrent of violence, always simmering but not boiling, the occasional overpowering, overwhelming thrust making its way through like one of his acidic barbs or sarcastic insults. It always felt like Sawyer was taking his time while simultaneously pushing hurriedly forward, begging him to fall from the edge willingly before he was forced over.
“I got you in my hand now, Jack…I’m stroking, pullin’ up on you, runnin’ my thumb right over your tip in that way that makes your eyelashes flutter like crazy and your mouth open like…” Sawyer is silent for a moment, then a low chuckle rumbles from him. “Yeah, I watch you, everythin’ you do, Jack. I know what you’re gonna do before you do it.”
Jack shifts in his seat, beginning to grow hard beneath the confines of his pants. He sets the magazine down face up, open, across his lap, pretending to still be reading it. The words swim in his field of vision, nothing but a jumble of black letters against white pages that make no sense.
“Like if I got down on my knees in front of you, took you in my mouth…your hand would be in my hair the second my lips touched you. You never tug or pull, but I can tell you wanna. And you could…I wouldn’t care. I’d take it. I’d like it, Jack.”
“Can I get you something to drink, Agent Shephard?”
Jack’s head snaps up so fast he almost gives himself whiplash. Cindy smiles down at him and he quickly hides the fact he’s startled, not to mention visibly horny.
“Bottle of water, please, Cindy,” He manages to get out, sounding relatively normal. He even musters up an only slightly nervous smile. She gives him a bottle, the label red white and blue, letting her fingers brush over his innocently enough to be interpreted as accidental. “Thank you.”
“You let me know if you need anything else, Agent Shephard.”
“I will.” Jack smiles again for good measure. Only then does he become aware that Sawyer has been whispering dirty things in his ear the entire time.
“-wanna suck you like a kid with a lollipop, up and down and all over, taste you all over my tongue, let you come down my throat…Sometimes I think I like getting you off this way more than you do, Jack. There ain’t nothin’ like the feel a you tremblin’ inside my mouth, your heartbeat pulsing so hard I can feel it throbbing right down through you…oh god, that noise you make when you’re comin’…”
Jack wants to ask Sawyer if he’s touching himself. He thinks he can hear it, the slide of skin on skin, clothes rustling, his breath more of a pant than an even controlled rhythm. Wherever he is, it must be private, so he must be hiding out in one of the bathrooms.
He would get up and try to figure out which one if his cock wasn’t tenting up his trousers, insistent and painful. He doubts he could stand, much less walk.
He puts his elbow on the armrest and presses his palm to his forehead, closing his eyes. He’s starting to sweat and his skin is warm to the touch. The fantasy is there already; being pinned back against the bathroom door, Sawyer down on his knees in front of him. He can see it all, feel it all. The slide of Sawyer’s tongue on his cock, the brush of his blonde hair against his thighs, the steady touch of his hands on his hips.
Sawyer did always act like giving him a blowjob was equally pleasurable. Sometimes he’d come on his own, all over the floor or the bed by Jack’s feet, nothing to prompt him but Jack’s own orgasm. Not even a touch.
Jack can hear him panting openly in his ear now, turned on, excited.
“Fuck, Jack, it’s been too long, way too long. I gotta have you. Can’t wait to get home tonight. Too many days on the road, too many days working and behaving…today I just wanted to…today I wanted to pin you to the ground and fuck you right there in front of all those people. Fuck you so hard, Jack…Jack…” He repeats his name and Jack can hear it happening, that break in Sawyer’s control when he passes the point of no return.
He can practically feel Sawyer’s hot breath on his neck, the feel of his body so close, breathe in the smell of his sex. Sawyer lets out a strangled groan and Jack knows it happened. The thought of Sawyer, tousled hair, glassy eyes, leaning against the bathroom wall, pants open, shirt unbuttoned, fisting his own cock, jerking hard and coming…all that milky white liquid spilling over his strong fingers, splattering his stomach, his palm stroking through it…
Jack closes his eyes tightly and bites his lip so hard he nearly breaks it open. He wants to stop it, needs to, but it’s impossible. He comes as noiselessly as possible, direct counterpoint to Sawyer’s breathless moans echoing in his ear. His lap feels warm and sticky but he keeps silent, holding back the pained four letter word brimming on his lips.
“Did you come, Jack?” Sawyer’s voice slinks back into his consciousness, sultry and sexual. “I did…I came all over myself, so fucking hard…tell me that you did, Jack. Tell me.”
Jack shifts uncomfortably in his seat again, his damp underwear clinging to his thighs. He readjusts the magazine and picks up the bottle of water he had haphazardly set aside. The drink he takes is long, buying himself some time.
“Tell me you came right there in your seat, Jack.”
“Uh,” Jack coughs, a betrayal of his nerves as he presses the button to talk back. “Affirmative.”
When he lets go, he can hear Sawyer’s self-satisfied laugh. Jack pulls on the cord and the plastic bud drops from his ear. He runs his hand over his short hair and clamps his eyes shut, wondering how in the world he ever let it all come to this.
“Are you all right, Agent Shephard?”
“I’m fine,” Jack opens his eyes and tilts his head toward Cindy. He knows he must look terrible, sweaty and flushed and shaky. He certainly feels like a mess. “I…I think I might be coming down with something.”
“Would you like me to get a medic?” She offers, gesturing down the length of the cabin. Jack quickly shakes his head no.
“No, but thank you. I think I’m just going to…” He points in the opposite direction and gets up, turning away from her and walking toward the bathroom. She smiles in understanding and watches him for a moment before going back to her business.
As he approaches one of the rest rooms, the door opens and Sawyer steps out. He looks almost freshly fucked, glowing and happy. He sees Jack and shoots him the most mischievous grin he’s ever seen.
“Late to the party, Shep.”
“This was a $300 suit, Sawyer.” Jack mutters, a bit disgruntled. Sawyer got the better end of this deal and from the look on his face, Sawyer knows it and is not about to apologize for it.
“My turn for dry cleaning anyway…might as well get my money’s worth.” Sawyer replies and for a split second Jack worries he’s going to cheekily grab his ass and wink. Instead he stops at the wink and sidles past him down the aisle.
Jack steps inside the small room and clicks the lock shut harshly. His shoulders sag and he glances in the mirror. He feels and looks thoroughly exhausted and his bottom lip is swollen from the pressure of biting down so hard. He is satisfied but not, robbed of true pleasure, a victim of too much but not enough.
He considers turning his comm back on and torturing Sawyer with some words of his own, but he doesn’t have it in him.
Sawyer will just have to make it up to him when they get home.
*******
Jack slams Sawyer against the door, hands already unbuttoning his now-rumpled dress shirt, fingers tearing at his tie.
“You could’ve gotten us in a lot of trouble today. If anyone heard-“
“They didn’t-“
“If anyone heard that, we would’ve been worse than fired.”
“It was just a little friendly chat,” Sawyer nips at Jack’s sore bottom lip and then runs his tongue over it, his laugh brushing against Jack’s mouth. “Who knows, maybe we coulda changed some minds about gay marriage.”
“Don’t think so.” Jack mumbles, his lips moving along Sawyer’s jaw line and then finding their way down his neck. He rocks his hips toward Sawyer’s and he knows what Sawyer will say before he says it.
“That a gun in your pants or are you just happy to see me?”
Jack strips off his suit coat and peels off the holster and gun, dumping the heavy weight of it to the floor by the couch.
“You never get sick of saying that, do you?” He asks as he removes Sawyer’s and sets it down as well. The corner of Sawyer’s mouth quirks upward.
“Nope.” He pulls at Jack’s zipper and opens his pants, letting the sides hang in a V. “I did mess you up good, didn’t I?” He comments as he takes in the telltale signs of their evening’s exploits.
“Made me feel like I was 14 again,” Jack mutters, pausing in their kissing to be adequately annoyed. Sawyer chuckles and reaches to touch him, but Jack grabs his hand. “Seriously, Sawyer, that can’t happen anymore. If we get caught-“
“Oh, Jack…such a boy scout…” He whispers, winding his hand in Jack’s tie instead and pulling him back close. Jack frowns. “I promise, I’ll be a good boy from now on.”
“No more of this Sex Bomb stuff?”
“Aw, you actually used my codename,” Sawyer teases, pretending to be touched.
“Sawyer.”
“C’mon, Jack…ya never know when I’ll make you explode…” His grin drifts away, fading into a serious look of lust as he lets go of Jack’s tie and pulls it loose from around his neck. “Though right now seems real good.”
“Not much of a sneak attack.” Jack responds, glancing down as Sawyer deftly opens his shirt and then slides his hands over his waist. His hips arch slightly upward, pressing into Sawyer’s touch.
“Well, tonight you got a Sex Bomb with a timer.” Sawyer jokes. “Set to go off any second…”
They stumble toward their bedroom. Sawyer collides with the bed and pulls Jack down on top of him, his hands prying impatiently at the waistband of his black boxer-briefs. He finds Jack’s cock hard and ready, dripping with excitement.
“Someone’s already racing ahead of the clock.” He licks his lips, strokes Jack firmly, and then smiles up at him.
“Well you know what they say...always be prepared.” Jack grins back.
END