Scars & Stitches Part Two - Continued
Jack’s hands waver, not able to line the key up at first and then finally getting it in. He twists it, the wrong way, then harshly turns it the opposite direction, barely able to function through the haze of his desire.
The door sticks and in his frustration Jack pushes on it far harder than he should; it gives way and he and Sawyer stumble into the hallway clumsily. Sawyer grunts as the door jamb bumps against the thin and healing gash in his side, still slightly sore. The pain makes him think for a moment about Jack's hands touching him as he had stitched it up, clinical and precise, and how even then he'd wanted more, craved his fingers on his skin.
“Sorry,” Jack murmurs against Sawyer’s lips as Sawyer regains his footing, holding Jack up in the process, keeping him from falling. The hallway is narrow with a high vaulted ceiling, empty save for one light fixture that casts nowhere near enough light into the dim space.
“Fuck, Jack…” Sawyer groans, sliding his hands underneath the now-too-tight denim of Jack’s jeans, underneath the elastic of his boxer briefs to claim his cock, wrapping his hand around it and savoring the sensation of that hardness quivering in his palm. Jack curses as Sawyer touches him, gasping into Sawyer’s mouth. Sawyer nips at his bottom lip and tugs on it with his teeth before plunging his tongue back inside. “Please say…have…elevator? Can’t…stairs…” Sawyer whispers in between kisses, not managing to form coherent sentences but knowing Jack gets the drift.
“Elevator…” Jack replies just as uselessly, grabbing Sawyer and moving with him a little further down the hall. He collapses against the metal gate of the old freight elevator and Sawyer reaches behind Jack’s body to press the call button, not caring that he seems like an impatient petulant child when he presses it again and again like it’s somehow going to make it arrive faster.
When it eventually does, Sawyer makes quick work of the necessary steps, lifting the sliding metal door upward and pushing Jack inside. Jack presses the number 5 as Sawyer locks the elevator down; as soon as the elevator surges upward, they’re back against one another, groping, pulling, pushing, touching. His hands sliding up Jack’s chest and then to the back of his neck, Sawyer shoves Jack against the side of the elevator, his body hitting the metal grating hard and heavy. He strips Jack’s coat off his shoulders and starts to push it off entirely but stops, not able to take it off without taking Jack’s hands off of him. They are in his hair, tugging and twining, strands slipping through his fingertips as they kiss one another with complete and reckless abandon.
Jack moves against him and they roll once, Jack now pinning Sawyer to the side of the elevator, and then again, careening to the opposite side as they start to tear off one another’s clothes, jackets hanging off their bodies and pants coming unbuttoned, unzipped.
“God, I just wanna get inside you, right here, right now,” Sawyer growls into Jack’s ear, his hands on Jack’s ass, holding him firmly as he grinds, thrusts, too erratically to convince himself he’s still in any kind of control. He couldn’t stop now if he tried. His body is aching for Jack like he’s the only thing he’s ever wanted, ever needed to have. He is dizzy and hot and one second away from shoving down Jack’s jeans and fucking him so hard they’ll hear him coming, screaming, yelling, all the way uptown.
The elevator lurches to a halt and they stumble out into the hall, nearly falling, smashing into the brick wall. Sawyer is moving with Jack, not sure where they’re going but leading just the same, and he only stops when Jack starts bungling with his front door, turning away from Sawyer so he can get it open. Sawyer keeps his hands on him the entire time, feeling Jack’s pulse racing underneath his palms when he slides them up and underneath his shirt, tangling his fingers in his coarse chest hair.
As soon as the door pops open, they are inside and slamming it shut behind them. Sawyer pins Jack back against it, thrusting hard and shoving his tongue insistently into his mouth, very nearly down his throat, finally finishing the task of stripping off his jacket. He shrugs off his own, Jack helping him.
There’s just clothes hitting the ground after that, piece after piece, shirts, jeans, boxers, taking no time to appreciate the ravishing sight of one another’s naked skin being revealed, reveling in the ecstasy of blind touch and sensation instead.
It’s all a flurry and a panic, a frantic mess of body against body. They both collapse to the floor without a semblance of grace, without a worry for taking their time, being cautious, caring or sentimental. It’s carnal and animalistic, nothing but grunting and groaning, neither of them able to form words, their tongues and mouths too busy following other pursuits. There’s absolutely nothing on Sawyer’s mind except the thought of fucking this man, making him writhe underneath his body. He can’t think any farther than that; his whole world is limited to Jack and only Jack. Usually he tries to make it all about the other person, laying down groundwork for his later plans, able to keep every movement, every word out of his mouth, cold and calculated even if they seem to be hot and passionate.
But he’s not faking this and is too caught up to realize it, to even care about what it could mean in the morning. He can’t exist outside this moment, can’t make himself take that necessary step back to enjoy it without really enjoying it, feel without really feeling, can’t remind himself to groan this way or move that way, the way he should. He’s not withdrawn, he’s invested, he’s in it, part of it. He should be playing a role but instead he can only be himself. The pleasure isn’t separate from the person. He doesn’t want sex; he wants Jack.
There are things happening inside of him now, things stirring that haven’t been awake in a very long time. He tries to ignore it, choosing just to kiss Jack harder, move over him faster. Jack is reacting just as quickly, like if he pauses to think about what he’s doing he might have to stop, so he simply doesn’t stop. Their naked bodies rock together, a tangle of limbs on the polished parquet, Sawyer on top and then Jack, rolling and twisting together not as a struggle for dominance but a struggle to feel more, do more.
They are both sweaty and panting with exertion, their bodies slick and sliding easily now, finding a rhythm. Sawyer can feel Jack leaking, feel himself doing the same, their pre-come mingling on their stomachs as their cocks rub together, one hardness fitting perfectly against the other. His hands slide over Jack’s ass, finally able to touch what he’d secretly been staring at all night, bare skin underneath his fingers. He holds Jack to him, thrusting up against him, and Jack groans again, ripping his lips from Sawyer’s as his back involuntarily arches, his hips pushing hard in response to Sawyer’s movement.
“Fuck,” he breathes out as Sawyer takes the opportunity to run his mouth down Jack’s chest, circling his tongue over one hardened nipple. At the same time, he moves his fingers over Jack’s entrance, testing him, easing into his tightness with small light circular touches, seeing how he reacts. Jack tenses, not with anxiety but with anticipation, exhaling sharply when Sawyer pushes a first finger inside, perhaps a bit more roughly and suddenly than he had intended.
Sawyer wants to tell him how bad he wants it, how tight he feels, how beautiful he looks, but all he can do is stare at Jack’s face as pleasure passes over it, lingering there in his eyes. He is usually able to talk suave, talk dirty, talk sweet; words were always a good way to cover up what passion was lacking in the act itself. But words fail him now and all he can do is lift his head, pull Jack’s down, and kiss him like he’s depending on Jack to breathe, to survive.
When he adds a second finger, sinking in deeper and pushing exactly where he knows he needs to, Jack presses back into his touch, letting him go farther inside while he creates a space between their bodies, reaching down and taking both himself and Sawyer in his grasp. It is the first time Jack’s hand has touched his cock and they both moan at the contact, waves of immense pleasure crashing down over them.
Jack whimpers when Sawyer finds the right spot within him again and bathes it with attention, brushing against it, pressing hard and then soft, knowing he’s got Jack right where he wants him. Jack closes his eyes, trying to hold back, flashes of light swirling behind his eyelids as Sawyer strokes his swollen prostate. He’s going to come if Sawyer keeps going on like he is now and he doesn’t want to, not yet. He wants more, so much more, and he knows all he has to do is say the word and Sawyer will give it to him.
“Now,” Jack murmurs, needing to say nothing else. Sawyer nods against him and then pushes him back off of his body. Jack gets on his knees and Sawyer starts to move, to get up, but Jack stops him. “I don’t have anything. To slick you.”
Sawyer’s hand slips down his cock and he locks his eyes on Jack, asking him the question, providing the suggestion silently. Jack nods and complies hurriedly, needing Sawyer inside him as soon as possible. He bends and takes Sawyer’s cock in his mouth, taking him in deep, getting him as wet as he can. Sawyer’s breath hitches and his hips buck upward. Soon he’s fucking Jack’s mouth and Jack just lets him, taking it as best he can and working to coat every inch of him, his tongue moving hard and fast to taste him. Sawyer abruptly grabs Jack’s shoulders and pushes him off, desperate for release but not wanting to find it there.
He rises to his knees, matching Jack’s stance, and crushes their bodies together again, kissing Jack, more tongue than lips, touching him, more body than just hands. Then he moves, his hands sliding across Jack’s stomach and brushing over his hips as he circles behind him, positioning himself where he needs to be. More than ready, Jack leans forward and puts his hands on the floor, his palms sweaty and slipping on the smooth wood.
Sawyer grips his own cock in his hand, wet with Jack’s saliva and his own excitement, and guides himself inside. He penetrates him with just his tip, pausing for a moment, wanting to shove himself inside roughly, impatient to feel him, and knowing he shouldn’t. He manages to hold back, moving slow, biting his lip and grinding his teeth, his free hand gripping hard on Jack’s hip. Jack groans, his body rioting with pleasure and with pain as Sawyer slowly sinks in, inch by inch, stretching him and filling him, the sensation both invasive and strange while simultaneously giving him an innate feeling of completion.
Jack wills himself to relax and accept Sawyer into his body, wanting nothing more than for Sawyer to move. Sawyer lets out a light sigh, stopping when he’s buried to the hilt, pressed as tightly against Jack, as far into Jack, as he can be. Jack is so tight around him in the best possible way; he remains still, just reveling in the feelings that are surging through every single nerve of his body.
Jack draws in a deep breath when Sawyer pulls out, just as slowly, the frantic pace of their lovemaking suddenly dropped to a near standstill. He can feel every second of Sawyer’s movement, from the first hitch of his hips to the second his cock slips out, leaving him bereft and empty until Sawyer plunges back in, more sharply, more roughly, this time. He’d forgotten how good this felt. How right. There’d only been one time before this, during college. It was something that, until now, he’d tried not to think on too often.
But from the second Sawyer had stumbled into the ER, he began thinking about it. He tried to ignore it but tonight when Sawyer showed up, he simply could not. And when Sawyer grabbed him, he didn’t want to. He only wanted to feel it again, the heat and weight of another male body on his, hard, rough, and sharp in all the right places. Now Sawyer is inside him and he never wants him to leave.
Sawyer begins thrusting in earnest, both his hands finding Jack’s waist and using his body for leverage, both holding Jack steady and urging him back to meet each forward movement of his hips. There is nothing but the sounds of their heavy breathing, punctuated by the odd grunt or whispered curse, echoing in what has to be a cavernous room. Sawyer doesn’t even know. He hadn’t looked.
Jack moves, supporting his weight with one trembling arm as his other hand finds his cock, pumping himself each time Sawyer rocks into him. His head alternately rises up and falls, his neck arching and his eyes fluttering open for just a moment before he drops his chin to his chest, panting helplessly and swearing under his breath, whispering Sawyer’s name as his body moves with the power of Sawyer’s thrusts. The pace of his hand increases on his hard cock, no longer able to keep time with Sawyer, erratic - fast and quick and then slow and unsteady, like he’s at war with himself, his body wanting to come but his mind telling it no.
Sawyer’s hands, which had been splayed over Jack’s back, feeling his heated skin and the line of his spine underneath his palms, slide upward briefly and run over Jack’s hair as he leans forward. His stomach presses against Jack’s back as Sawyer reaches for his cock, covering Jack’s hand with his. He’s so close, teetering on the edge of oblivion, ready to explode inside Jack’s tight heat, but he wants Jack to come with him, to fall and crash together.
He’s pounding into Jack hard, uncontrollably, his movements as frenzied and wild as if he were an inexperienced, eager teenager, yet with none of the unpracticed clumsiness. His body knows on instinct now what to do, letting his mind go blank and just allowing him to move, to find the pleasure and ride it out. Jack reacts in the same primal way, completely unselfconscious in the moment, letting Sawyer see and feel every single effect that this is having upon him.
Suddenly the pressure all gets to be too much and Jack’s arm gives out; he drops to his elbow, managing to stop himself before he collides with the floor. The unexpected change in angle causes Sawyer to push deeper, hitting Jack’s prostate hard. Jack cries out, the pleasure hitting him full force, and he’s coming, coming hard, long, and heavy all over his own stomach, all over their hands, all over the floor. Sawyer feels it, sees it, hears it, and loses it himself, crying out sharply as his body winds up tightly and then springs loose. His cock shudders hard inside Jack’s body, filling him with his hot liquid, Jack tight around every last inch of him, squeezing out every last drop, leaving Sawyer with nothing left to give, completely wasted.
They ride out the aftershocks, their bodies shaking and quivering, overwhelmed by the intensity of their combined orgasms. Sawyer lets his weight rest on Jack, his cheek pressed against Jack’s shoulder blade, their hands still twined together and caressing Jack’s cock gently as it goes soft. Jack gasps and then makes a small noise of contentment that Sawyer wants to hear again and again, finding it perfect and heavenly in his ears.
Sawyer doesn’t know how long they stay like this, collapsed in a heap of arms and legs on Jack’s floor, neither of them moving to pull apart from one another. His body relaxes, arousal ebbing and satisfaction flowing. It could have been hours for all he knew, he doesn’t want to move. The moment draws on, neither wanting to admit it’s over.
Finally Sawyer shifts, laying gentle kisses on Jack’s sharp shoulder blades as he pulls out. Jack whimpers lightly when Sawyer slides from his body. Sawyer feels empty without Jack around him now and senses that Jack feels it too.
He sinks to the floor by Jack’s side, hand running up the side of Jack’s body. Jack moves as well, turning onto his back. Sawyer smiles as he takes him in, finally stopping to look at the body he’d just so thoroughly pleasured - The muscles he’d felt moving underneath Jack’s hot, sweaty skin, the dark hair he’d had tangled in his fingers, those beautiful masculine lips that had been wrapped around his cock…it’s all perfect, too perfect. For an instant he wonders how he’s ever going to just up and walk away from this when the time comes.
He pushes the thought from his mind, knowing lust must be clouding his judgment, and pulls Jack to him, lifting one of Jack’s legs over his hip, fitting their bodies together face to face, side by side. He looks into Jack’s eyes for a moment, getting lost in their deep brown depths, his heart nearly stopping at what he finds there. Not only because he is surprised by the affection he sees, but because he feels a jolt of happiness at seeing it. Of course Jack would be the type to care, he reminds himself. The guy had probably never succeeded in having a one-night stand in his life.
Sadly, that is actually what Sawyer had started out counting on.
Now he almost wishes Jack would look at him and know better, know that he should turn and run from this as fast as he can before it’s too late.
But he won’t. Sawyer knows barely anything about him but he knows that.
“What is it…?” Jack asks and Sawyer realizes that he’d fallen silent, had stopped moving. He glances away, running his hand up the outside of Jack’s thigh and stopping at his hip, drawing small circles around the angle of the bone. He looks back up at Jack, whose eyes now display a bit of worry, slight concern. It makes Sawyer want to grab him and fuck him all over again.
“You’re so fucking beautiful it hurts to look at you,” Sawyer murmurs, his voice rumbling low and sensual, the air crackling with desire around them. Jack blushes, smiling shyly but happily, and Sawyer has absolutely no choice but to kiss him again. He rolls on top of Jack, easing the mood back towards playful and flirtatious. When he pulls away he finally looks up, looks around them, taking in Jack’s barren apartment.
It’s a wide open space, tall, wide windows on the far end, seemingly miles away from where they are now. The kitchen is to their right, living area to their left, both stark and empty. The room before them is littered with unpacked cardboard boxes. Only Jack’s bed seems complete.
Lucky for them.
“Nice place,” he grins, looking down at Jack. “Like what you’ve done with it. Real…minimalist.”
“Haven’t had time to unpack,” Jack replies, brushing Sawyer’s hair behind his ear. It falls right back down and hangs around his face like a curtain. Sawyer nods, making a noise of understanding as he catches Jack’s lips with his, gentle and searching now, treasuring it, taking his time.
“You want to sleep? You want me to leave?” He asks after awhile, knowing what he wants the answer to be and knowing he’ll hear it.
“I don’t want you to leave,” Jack replies honestly. “Stay.” Sawyer nods, letting his lips fall against Jack’s again, letting his kiss answer for him. He won’t go anywhere. Not tonight.
*******
“So why the hell’d you give him my number?”
Sawyer stares at Hibbs, inwardly wondering why he ever agreed to work with this guy.
“You know I ain’t got a phone in my place.”
“Your dump, you mean.”
“Well if someone hadn’t blown the last of our cash on that stupid-“
“Hey now, Sawbucks, let’s not get personal. We agreed we were gonna let that one go. Honest mistake. Everyone’s gotta mess up sometime. Even a pro like me. Haven’t I gotten you out of enough scrapes so far to get a free pass at least once?”
Sawyer sighs reluctantly, knowing Hibbs as a point, though sometimes he wishes he’d never let Hibbs Artful Dodger him in the first place. He’d probably have been better off if he’d just been left the hell alone.
Hibbs stubs out his cigarette with a distasteful look on his face.
“Your smokes are shit, Sawyer.”
“Think I don’t know that?” Sawyer mutters, adjusting awkwardly on the lumpy couch. Hibbs’ place isn’t as bad as his joint, but it’s sure as hell no Ritz-Carlton either.
“If I gotta put up with you loungin’ around here all day, I should at least get some decent smokes out of it.”
“Well tell ya what, when I get this guy, I’ll buy you all the cigarettes you want,” Sawyer retorts grumpily. Hibbs looks at the younger man with something akin to amusement on his face.
“This guy an older gent like me? Got a huge wad of cash to spend on a pretty thing like you? He gonna be your sugar daddy?”
“I told you already, you dumbass, he’s only like a goddamned year older than I am.”
“And he has enough cash to make this worth our while,” Hibbs says disdainfully. Sawyer grunts.
“My while. I’m the one who’s fucking him.”
“And who bankrolled our last con? Our while, Sawyer. I don’t care if I lost our last five thou at the track, I sunk much more than that into-“
“Okay! Just shut the fuck up, would you?” Sawyer cuts him off. Hibbs just chuckles, evidently amused.
“Well. Something’s got your panties in a twist, Tennessee. What, you worried cause your boyfriend hasn’t called yet?”
“He ain’t my boyfriend, he’s a fucking mark.”
“Still doesn’t change the fact that he hasn’t called. I told you that you should’ve stayed for a morning follow-up, not snuck out before he even god damned woke up.”
“Guys ain’t normally his thing. Figured he needed some breathing room, get his head straight. Left him a note and the number.”
“That sure is romantic.”
“Hey. I know what I’m doin’ here, all right? The guy has the whole damn day off of work, a girlfriend who is all the way across the country, and nothing better to do than sit there and think about the cute guy who fucked his brains out three times last night.”
“Three times?” Hibbs laughs, ignoring everything else Sawyer said just to piss him off. “Well then, he better call. Can’t think of the last time I got three rounds in from any gal of my own.”
“What can I say. I’m fucking special.” Sawyer scowls. Hibbs lights another cigarette and looks at him, arching an eyebrow.
“And yet you’re not complainin’ about having to screw him,” Hibbs observes. “Usually you’re whining about it like a pansy ass school boy. This one must be a looker. He strike your fancy, huh, James?”
‘Here’s a thought. Why don’t you just shut the fuck up and let me wait for the damned phone call. How ‘bout we try that? I mean, what, you ain’t got other shit to do besides sit here and bother me?” Sawyer snaps angrily. Hibbs falls quiet for a moment, not to oblige Sawyer, but to think on what he wants to say next.
“How much money you think we’ll get from him?”
“I don’t know yet. I’m still feelin’ it out; only got dirt on the basics by callin’ in a few favors. Comes from money out in California. Daddy’s a big-time doctor, real big-time. Mama comes from old money, east coast. I’m thinkin’ he’s gotta have a trust fund, and from how he acts, prob’ly hasn’t touched a cent of it yet. Family has rich buddies on the Upper East, and I’m sure other places all over the city, hell, prob’ly all over the country. And he’s got a huge ass place down in TriBeCa. You could fit this entire apartment inside his fuckin’ living room.”
“That’s sure a good start,” Hibbs agrees, flicking ash from the end of his cigarette. “Trick is to get him to give ya what ya want. How you gonna work it?”
“He’s a fuckin’ bleedin’ heart, know the type?”
“Sure do,” Hibbs grins knowingly.
“So I rope him in with some sad tale, get him feelin’ sorry for my poor ass, and then tell him I’m in a bit a trouble…real small at first, maybe 500 bucks or somethin’…test the waters. Put some time in, then go in for the big one. Once I got him wrapped around my finger, it’ll be all too easy.”
“Seems like you know what you’re doin’.”
“I’m getting fuckin’ better at this than you are, ya dumb fuck.”
“Apprentice has become the master, that what you think?”
“Damn close to it.”
“Well, I hope you’re right. ‘Cause we really need this one. We’re shit without it.”
Sawyer looks hard at Hibbs, knowing that he’s right but wanting to punch him in the face anyway. He hates having this all riding on him, that it fell into his lap. But he’s in no position to argue. He owes Hibbs too much to try and rebel now, not when he has no alternate plan, no escape. Every Dodger owes a Fagin, and every Fagin owes a Bill Sikes. He blows this one, and it won’t just be Hibbs he’ll be answering to.
As if on cue, the phone rings. Sawyer flashes a grin and a wink at Hibbs, standing up and stretching his arms like he’s getting ready to play a sport, go for a run. It’s all a game, he reminds himself as he crosses the room toward Hibbs’ beat-up old phone. You’re playing to win.
“And you were worried.” He says to Hibbs before picking it up, already knowing who is going to be waiting for him on the other end of the line.
*******
Sawyer hesitates before pressing the bell for Jack’s apartment, staring at the small square button, the last name Shephard written neatly in the white space next to it. It’s not Jack’s handwriting. He knows that much. For a second he wonders who did write it.
Then he presses the button.
Jack’s voice, muffled through the speaker.
The door buzzes, unlocking with a loud click. Sawyer pulls it open, wondering how it can be this easy to just walk into someone’s life. It shouldn’t be this easy. He’d seen it enough times to know that it’s true, that people are inherently trusting, ready to believe in friendship, in love, all of it, and every time he’s struck by how naïve it all is.
He’s never stuck around to find out, but he wonders if they all wind up just like him in the end, if he turns them just as cynical and cold as he is. He wonders how many times he can do this, head in knowing that he’s going to be nothing but a sad chapter in someone’s life. A regret. He wonders if he’ll ever cause anything but destruction and pain. He wonders, and that’s enough to make him want to turn and run right now. He barely knows Jack. He shouldn’t be wondering anything.
But he gets into the elevator anyway. He knocks on Jack’s door. He waits. One step closer to his final goal, another day ticked off on the calendar and another move made in his elaborate maneuver.
When Jack opens the door, Sawyer grabs him and kisses him without thinking, overwhelmed with the urge to apologize for what hasn’t happened yet.
“Hi…” Jack says, a shy, surprised smile creeping over his face when Sawyer pulls away, disentangling himself slowly from his embrace. Sawyer looks at him and then quickly looks away, feeling his face burning. He casts his gaze downward toward his feet, letting his hair hang in his face for a moment to cover his blush. He hasn’t blushed in years.
“Hey. Sorry.” Sawyer mumbles.
“No…no, believe me, um, that’s fine…” Jack says softly, his laugh sounding a little nervous. He shifts on his feet, wondering why Sawyer isn’t looking at him now, after such an enthusiastic greeting. “I’m glad you…I mean…you didn’t have to leave this morning. You could’ve stayed…I don’t want you to think that…”
Sawyer takes a deep breath, straightening up and tossing his hair back. He forces a tight smile onto his face, leveling his eyes back at Jack, trying to get back in control of himself.
“You were sound asleep, Doc. Trust me, you didn’t make me feel like I had to go anywhere,” Sawyer assures him. “I just had some place I had to be and I didn’t want to wake you. I’m glad you called.”
“Yeah?” Jack takes a step toward him and Sawyer matches him, their bodies close again.
“I don’t make a habit of comin’ over and kissin’ people if I’m not glad,” Sawyer retorts flirtatiously, getting back into the swing of it, bringing his hand up and tracing his thumb over Jack’s bottom lip, cocking his own mouth into a sly half grin. “I really wasn’t sure if you’d call.”
“Why not?” Jack sounds a slight bit offended and guilty at the same time. Sawyer can imagine him warring with himself over whether or not to call, wanting to and feeling like he should, not wanting to and feeling like he shouldn’t.
“’Cause I kinda got the feelin’ last night that bringin’ random guys around your place to roll around in the sheets for awhile isn’t ‘xactly the norm for you. I kinda thought maybe you’d freak, honestly,” Sawyer says this teasingly, softening the observation with a hint of humor. Jack nods slowly, surprising Sawyer by lifting his own hand, mimicking Sawyer’s movements and running his own fingers over Sawyer’s mouth.
“Well I won’t lie, I kind of did.” He replies. “But…”
“But what…?” Sawyer urges him on gently, his voice low and quiet.
“But…” Jack starts again, then finishes by pressing his lips softly against Sawyer’s kissing him tentatively, letting his hands cup Sawyer’s face. Sawyer mimics him now, cradling his face as well as the kiss deepens.
“Damn…” Sawyer whispers when they break apart. “I got a confession to make.”
“Yeah…what’s that?”
“I was totally waitin’ by the phone for you to call, like a fuckin’ teenage girl…” Sawyer laughs against Jack’s skin and feels Jack’s chuckle rumbling through his chest.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Jack draws back and pushes Sawyer’s hair out of his face, tucking loose strands behind his ear and then just stroking his fingers through it absently. He’s looking into Sawyer’s eyes with a look that Sawyer doesn’t quite recognize, can’t match, so Sawyer diverts the attention elsewhere, running his hand up Jack’s arm, pushing the sleeve of his loose t-shirt up onto his shoulder.
“What does all this mean?” He asks, running his fingers over the random drawings gracing Jack’s shoulder and bicep.
“A lot of different things,” Jack replies vaguely, glancing down at Sawyer’s finger as he traces over the symbols inked into his skin. He hadn’t even noticed the art until the middle of the night before as they tumbled into bed, and while his tongue had bathed it with attention, he hadn’t asked about it then.
“That’s all you’re gonna give me?” Sawyer says, surprised, and Jack nods.
“Why do you wanna know?”
“You just don’t seem like the kinda guy to get tattoos, is all. I’m curious.”
“They’ll just have to be one of my secrets,” Jack says with a crooked smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, pulling the sleeve of his t-shirt back down, brushing Sawyer’s fingers away. Sawyer lets it go for now, another puzzle piece forming in his mind that he’ll need to find a place for before this is all over.
“Guess you have some after all then,” Sawyer responds.
“Guess so.” Jack shrugs, watching as Sawyer’s eyes darken; for a moment Jack thinks he’s angry but then sees that flicker of desire there in the deep blue, a look that has quickly become familiar to him. “You hungry?” He forces out, reminding himself that he had wanted this to be a real date, not just sex. He usually knows more, so much more, about anyone he’s falling into bed with. He doesn’t even know where Sawyer got that Southern drawl of his, what brought him to New York, where he lives and works, much less what had sent him stumbling into Jack’s path, cut and bleeding, only a week before.
But when Sawyer leans in, running his tongue slowly over Jack’s lips before snaking in, parting them, opening his mouth for a kiss, Jack finds he really doesn’t care.
“Yeah, I’m hungry,” Sawyer murmurs as he breaks the kiss, turning the angle of his head before moving again, kissing Jack more deeply this time. “You?”
“Hmmm-hmmm…” Jack mumbles back, his hands sliding over Sawyer’s chest and across his broad shoulders, pushing his jacket off. It drops to the floor and then so does Sawyer, sinking to his knees in front of Jack. He makes quick work of Jack’s pants, pulling them down around his ankles and then stripping off his boxers as well.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day, Doc…” Sawyer breathes out, finding as he looks at Jack’s quickly thickening hardness that he actually means it. “I can’t get your taste out of my mouth. I don’t want to. I just want more of it.”
“Fuck, Sawyer…” Jack gasps when Sawyer grips him with one hand and then wraps his lips over his sensitive tip, his tongue playing over the opening teasingly, delicately swiping across and then dipping in.
“What were you thinking about?” Sawyer whispers, drawing back and looking up at him.
“You…inside me. You felt so damn good…”
“Did you touch yourself?” Sawyer asks huskily. He’s back on firm ground now, knowing exactly how to drive Jack mad.
“No…” Jack shakes his head; Sawyer is a little surprised, thinking for a second Jack’s just embarrassed, but then Jack looks down and meets his eyes and he can see it’s not a lie. He has more self-restraint than he had suspected.
“Did you want to?”
“God yes.”
“Cause I did. And I came, I came all over myself, thinking about you.” Sawyer runs his fingers lightly down Jack’s length, feels him quiver underneath his touch. He loves this, this moment when he has complete power. He can do anything he wants, Jack is putty in his hands. He leans forward and lays gentle kisses up the faint trail of hair on Jack’s lower stomach, stopping and dipping his tongue in and out of his belly button suggestively before continuing his journey upward, lifting Jack’s t-shirt as he goes. He stops at his chest and pulls back, standing up.
He tugs Jack’s shirt over his head and tosses it aside, kissing him once on the lips before kneeling back down, stripping the rest of Jack’s clothes from around his ankles and sliding them away across the bare floor. He runs his hands back up Jack’s long, muscular legs, spreading them a little further apart. He knows Jack wants to be touched so he purposely resists, stepping away from him again.
He watches Jack watching him as he strips off every article of clothing on his body, watches as Jack’s eyes move over every inch of his exposed skin, drinking him in. Jack makes a small noise as Sawyer takes his own cock in hand, thick and ready. Fuck, he’d been ready the second Jack opened that door. He’d been ready for this the minute after he had come for the last time last night, aching for more almost instantly.
Sawyer moves in front of Jack and plants his feet firmly, meeting Jack’s heady gaze dead on. Jack reaches for him but Sawyer pushes his hand away. He takes himself and Jack in his own hand and presses their cocks together, sighing with sweet release at the feel of Jack’s hardness against his. Jack tries again to assist and Sawyer stops him.
“Let me get you off, Jack. Just let me see you come, it’s all I want you to do. Nothing else. Just stand there and come.” Jack opens his mouth to speak and Sawyer silences him with a kiss, telling him to do what he requests. Jack nods when Sawyer pulls away, his head leaning back against the wall with a heavy thud, his eyes falling closed as Sawyer moves his hand.
Sawyer looks down, focusing on his touch, his rhythm, things he can control. He feels different than he did last night, more like himself. This is what he knows, pleasure on his own terms. He grips Jack harder, feeling him throbbing in his hand, against his cock. It feels good. Better than good.
Jack’s hands find his hips, resting there lightly as Sawyer works him.
“Uuuhhhhhhh…” Sawyer looks up when Jack lets out a strangled moan, finding him looking down now as well, watching Sawyer’s hand on them both. He begins to drip, a bead of moisture gathering on his tip. Sawyer runs his thumb over it, spreading it over his head, the sight of it turning him on, causing him to leak himself. Jack’s fingers dig into his hips, clutching hard as he tries to hold back. Sawyer fists him harder, not caring about it lasting. This isn’t about endurance, it’s about gratification.
“Don’t hold back,” Sawyer demands of Jack, rocking his hips into his grasp, pushing Jack against the wall and grinding into him. “I want it hard and fast, Jack…now…it’s what I want…give me what I want…”
“Sawyer…!” Jack shoots off, his neck arching back and his eyes rolling back as he comes violently, sticky and hot all over Sawyer’s stomach and his own. Sawyer moves harder against him, pushing through Jack’s orgasm, drawing out everything he can, making Jack feel every last second of it. He holds Jack’s softening cock against his own hard one, seeking his own release now. He pumps himself as hard as he can, desperately. He angles himself differently, pushing closer to Jack, one leg on each side of one of his, his hip next to Jack’s, creating more space for his hand to move.
Sawyer lets his head drop down, his chin almost against his chest, his hair brushing against Jack’s shoulder as he pants breathlessly. He lets Jack’s wasted cock slip from his grasp, not able to hold on any longer. Jack reaches for him, coming down from his own orgasm and wanting to involve himself with Sawyer’s.
“Don’t,” Sawyer breathes. “Just let me come all over you.” Jack’s body touching his, his warmth, the smell of his sex, is more than enough. Sawyer doesn’t need him involved; he just needs a body to hold himself against. He groans loudly, biting back Jack’s name, not allowing himself to say it even though he desperately wants to. He explodes over Jack’s chest, his body thrusting and convulsing, making a complete mess on Jack’s perfect skin.
He falls silent as his vision clears and his body stops shaking, feeling weak and not entirely satisfied. Ignoring the feeling that what he’d really wanted was for Jack’s hands to be all over him, he rolls off of Jack and leans against the wall next to him, trying to get a hold of his breath. He glances at Jack, who looks dazed.
“You okay?” Sawyer murmurs and Jack nods, turning his head to look at him. Sawyer absently runs his hand over his own stomach, feeling the evidence of Jack’s lust painted over his skin, sticking to his palm.
“You?” Jack asks back. Sawyer turns his body to face Jack and Jack does the same thing. They stare at each other, the wall supporting them and only a small space keeping them apart. Sawyer reaches out his hand and runs it over Jack’s chest, finding himself there, mixing with Jack on his fingers. Jack reaches out too, gently caressing the side of his stomach where his stitches lie; a clean line that will most likely leave a faint scar, a permanent reminder of Jack's hands working on his body. Sawyer likes the thought of it now, but wonders how he'll feel when this is all over.
‘Yeah, I’m good,” Sawyer finally says, closing the gap between their bodies and pulling Jack close, skin against skin, finding his lips again and kissing him, attempting to make it seem sincere without actually letting himself feel that way. Because it could easily, actually be sincere, be real. He can’t stop himself from sighing when he pulls away. “I want you so bad it’s gonna kill me,” he whispers, fearing it to be true.
Jack kisses him this time and he knows it’s true.
He knows he shouldn’t, but he follows Jack to his bed. He’d spent his whole life courting danger, getting into trouble. Jack will just be one more mess he’ll have to get out of.
He’s made it this far. He won’t be stopped by a beautiful smile and a kind heart.
He won’t walk out when the time comes. He’ll run.
TBC
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