Lost fic: Jack Hates [adult, slash, J/K, J/S, S/K]
See, today it doesn't seem dark or twisted enough. My own fault if you're disappointed. Also, um...who broke LJ, it's being all weird.
Summary: Jack can't get over his jealousy. Set post-island. Jack/Kate, Jack/Sawyer, implied Sawyer/Kate
Disclaimer: Not mine. No infringement intended.
Summary: Jack can't get over his jealousy. Set post-island. Jack/Kate, Jack/Sawyer, implied Sawyer/Kate
Warnings: Adult material, adult language, slash. Rating: Strong R, at least.
Archive: Please ask first.
Jack Hates
by eponine119
June 5, 2005
"What was it like, with him?" Jack can't quite catch his breath. He's asked this question before.
"Jack," she sighs. He loves the sound of his name on her lips. Always has. The bed trembles as she shifts away from him, and he can hear the whisper of her nightgown against the sheet.
"I want to know." Want doesn't even come close. Need, he needs it. Lying here in the dark with his wife with his thoughts back on the island again, he's consumed by the thought of her with someone else.
"You're drunk," she says, disgusted. She sits up and looks at him in the moonlight.
"One drink," he tells her. "I had one drink." He takes hold of her wrist, just hard enough to hurt if she tries to pull away. His fingers skim over the fast throb of her pulse, and he wonders how Sawyer used to touch her.
"You're a mean drunk, Jack. Always have been. Let go of me."
"Can't have it both ways, Katie," he says, because he knows how she hates to be called that. "I'm not an alcoholic if I get drunk from one drink." He knows he's lying, though. It's in his blood. He can't help what he is. "Just tell me."
"You won, Jack," she says, and he can hear the bitterness in her voice. Bet she wishes he hadn't. Bet she wishes she was with him now. And that's why Jack needs to know. Kate's going to leave him one of these days. "Now let me go."
His hand tightens on her arm. He's never touched her like this before, her or anyone. "Was he rough with you?" he asks.
"Stop this," she says, her voice low and threatening. Kate's hurt people before. She knows how. Everyone knows how, everyone except Jack. "There's no reason to be jealous. I chose you, not him."
"I have to know." It's a fever within him, and he can't stop thinking about it. Someone else had her, someone else loved her. Why can't she give him what he needs so he can be free of this? Once she tells him, she'll be his again.
She hits him. A hard smack across the face with her open hand. It hurts. There might have already been tears in his eyes, he's not sure really, but when he blinks now they fall. Her eyes are cold and hard as diamonds as she glares at him, deciding whether she'll have to do it again. She doesn’t have to. His hand falls away from her slender wrist and she gets up from the bed. "Wild," she says finally. It's the only answer he's going to get, and it hurts. Jack's never been wild, not even close.
"Where do you think he is?" Jack asks, feeling the emptiness of his palm. Of his bed, of his life.
"Hell." Kate's certain. The bedroom door closes behind her.
…
She's not far wrong. He's in Vegas. Heat squiggles up from the pavement in front of a building that's either a motel or an apartment building. Both, neither. Doesn't matter.
Jack didn't lie to her about where he was going. There really is a conference. He's just not there to hear it. He knocks on the door hard enough for it to sting his knuckles. He doesn't know what he's doing here.
Sawyer opens the door. They stare at each other for a long moment, assessing. Then Sawyer slides out of the doorway, allowing Jack to come inside.
The air blasting from a rattling window unit is so cold it hurts. Smoke drifts up from a cigarette in an ashtray next to the queen-sized bed. "Can't say I missed ya," Sawyer grins.
They're still opposites. Light and dark. Sawyer's hair is short now while Jack's drifts into his eyes. Sawyer's thin, but not as thin as Jack. No one's as thin as Jack. "Sorry I missed the wedding," Sawyer says. He gives the cigarette a final, deep suck then stubs it out as he exhales and smoke drifts all around them. "What's it been, a couple years now? Guess my invite musta got lost in the mail."
"She didn't want you there." He feels a flicker of power, of masculinity.
"How is poor dear Freckles these days?" Sawyer asks, and his voice is a little too loud.
"She's fine. We're fine."
"You don't look fine," Sawyer notes, and Jack can feel him looking at the red mark on his face. Then he's got a bottle in his hand and he's asking Jack if he wants some. Jack doesn't answer, but Sawyer puts a glass in his hand anyway. "Yeah, you know you do," he says and Jack hates him.
He hates Sawyer as the first drops burn their way down his throat. He hates Sawyer as his eyes slip closed and he tips his head back to coax every last bit from the glass. He hates the way Sawyer looks at him over the bottle as he pours a refill. He hates Sawyer and that's why he drinks.
"Let me guess," Sawyer says. "You were in town and just happened to think to look me up. Thought we could talk about the good old days."
Jack just feels the soothing heat of the booze flowing through him. Finally it grants him the power of speech. "I need to know how it was. Between you and Kate."
"Story's the same no matter how you look at it, doc," Sawyer says. "We fucked around on the island and then she went and chose you."
"Why didn't you fight for her?" Jack asks.
Sawyer shrugs. "Not worth it."
"She's worth anything." He means it, too. He really does.
"You just keep telling yourself that, doc," Sawyer says. Then he cocks his eyebrow and adds, "Or maybe you never noticed your wife's a lousy lay."
Jack tries to punch him then, but Sawyer dodges. Momentum sends Jack sprawling on the bed. He can't figure out how to get his hands under him to get up, even as Sawyer slides off the bed. "We should eat somethin'."
He rummages through a small fridge in the room's tiny kitchenette and comes back with take-out containers. Jack's managed to sit up and now he watches Sawyer eat. Jack's not even sure he remembers what food is like. He wants some, but he picks up the bottle instead.
"I need to know how it was with you," he says, looking into its empty depths.
"Don't know what I can tell you about fucking your wife that you don't already know," Sawyer says, and glances at him, measuring his reaction.
"She must have been different with you. I need to know. What you did to her. What it felt like."
"Jealous," Sawyer says, and Jack nods. "Of her," Sawyer adds. It doesn't make any sense, but Jack nods again anyway. "Cause she got to have me, and you didn't." He smiles, but he looks almost as scared as Jack feels. "Ain't that flattering," Sawyer murmurs as he reaches out and puts his hand high on Jack's thigh.
That's when Jack knows the doctors were right. They told him it was psychological. They said there was no medical reason why his body failed him the way it had in the past, ever since the island, ever since Kate. He fucks his wife with his fingers, with his mouth, with words sometimes because he can't usually get it up when she's around. But he's hard now. He lets out a little sound, painful and disappointed in himself.
"You want me to show you," Sawyer says. "How I touched her. How it all happened between us." He's breathing as fast as Jack is and his pupils are so dilated his eyes look black. "This is how I kissed her." He puts his mouth on Jack's. Sawyer's tongue swirls hotly against Jack's. Sawyer tastes like life and sex and danger. Jack's wife tastes like toothpaste and she leaves her tongue slack, waiting for him to take the lead. She'll be anything he wants her to be. It's nothing like this.
Sawyer's hands dig into Jack's neck, holding him for a long, delicious moment before he shoves Jack back on the bed. Jack's mouth quests for another kiss that he's not going to get as Sawyer pulls away. He strips away Jack's shirt and puts his mouth on one of the tattoos snaking up his inner arm. Sawyer's not pretending or demonstrating anymore; this is him and Jack now. No one else is in the room with them, least of all Kate.
Sawyer's hands are warm and slightly rough. His touch is firm and strong. But he doesn't use his hands, much. He prefers to use his mouth, something Jack never even considered in all the years he's been thinking about this. Sawyer nips and rakes with his teeth, then takes the pain away with his tongue. Jack uses his hands to explore Sawyer's chest and back and with his eyes closed he could almost be making love to himself. He's never been with a man before. Never had any desire to be.
Now he knows the way Kate must have squirmed. The way she must have screamed. The way her climax must have gone on and on until she thought there was nothing left in the world but the way this felt right now.
"Damn, doc, that was hot," Sawyer says, lying down next to him. He puts his head against Jack's stomach, which is still bucking as he struggles to find the rhythm of his breath. And Jack knows he was right, all this time, to worry. Sex with Sawyer is nothing like the sex Jack and Kate have. Kate doesn't scream, she doesn't kick, she doesn't come half the time and why should she? She just lays there.
He's not good enough for her. The realization comes like a fist in his gut. Jack moans and Sawyer lifts his head, looking in his eyes. He's not good enough for her and he just fucked Sawyer. As he panics, Sawyer smirks. "Told you she was a lousy lay," he says, off the excitement of Jack's reaction. It's obvious Jack hasn't had sex like that in a long time.
But she's not, it's him, it's all him. This is Jack's fault. He wanted to prove something to himself and it's all gone terribly wrong. Jack sits up and the room spins drunkenly.
"Hey…now I think it's my turn," Sawyer teases, making a grab for Jack. But Jack gags, he recoils, without even realizing he's going to until he's done it, and the light goes out in Sawyer's eyes. "This is what you wanted," he yells and kicks the bedframe. "You came to me, jackass."
"I was wrong," Jack says. His shirt is inside-out but he puts it on anyway. The buttons won't line up and the seams bulk up beneath his arms. He doesn't care, he just has to get out of there.
"You were wrong about Kate," Sawyer snaps. "It was never her you wanted back there. You just wanted to fight with me. Because it felt good to fight with me. I know, cause I felt the same damn thing. Why do you think I took her from you? Why do you think I let you have her?"
Jack can't listen to this, even if he knows it's true. Maybe because he knows it's true. All this time, he wanted Sawyer? He can't believe it. He can't. He married Kate, he had dreams about Kate, he was jealous of Kate. He has to go back and face Kate.
"Are you coming back?" Sawyer asks. He's standing in front of the door, head tipped at a defeated angle.
No. Yes. Jack doesn't know. It shows on his face, because Sawyer kisses him. It's tender and soft, a goodbye kiss, so as usual Sawyer knows something Jack doesn't. Jack closes his eyes and kisses Sawyer back. He wants to stay, but he has to get back to Kate. Sawyer opens the door for him to leave and Jack does.
He gets home to an empty house. There's a note on the table that he doesn't have to read, because her ring's there beside it. She's left him. He was right about where she'd go, too. Right to be jealous all these years. If he'd waited longer, she could have caught them together and then what would have happened? He could leave now and go back to Vegas and find Kate and Sawyer together, but Jack doesn't see the point of it.
He opens a new bottle of vodka instead. It's been all the company he needed for awhile now. It'll have to do for tonight.
End.
Summary: Jack can't get over his jealousy. Set post-island. Jack/Kate, Jack/Sawyer, implied Sawyer/Kate
Disclaimer: Not mine. No infringement intended.
Summary: Jack can't get over his jealousy. Set post-island. Jack/Kate, Jack/Sawyer, implied Sawyer/Kate
Warnings: Adult material, adult language, slash. Rating: Strong R, at least.
Archive: Please ask first.
Jack Hates
by eponine119
June 5, 2005
"What was it like, with him?" Jack can't quite catch his breath. He's asked this question before.
"Jack," she sighs. He loves the sound of his name on her lips. Always has. The bed trembles as she shifts away from him, and he can hear the whisper of her nightgown against the sheet.
"I want to know." Want doesn't even come close. Need, he needs it. Lying here in the dark with his wife with his thoughts back on the island again, he's consumed by the thought of her with someone else.
"You're drunk," she says, disgusted. She sits up and looks at him in the moonlight.
"One drink," he tells her. "I had one drink." He takes hold of her wrist, just hard enough to hurt if she tries to pull away. His fingers skim over the fast throb of her pulse, and he wonders how Sawyer used to touch her.
"You're a mean drunk, Jack. Always have been. Let go of me."
"Can't have it both ways, Katie," he says, because he knows how she hates to be called that. "I'm not an alcoholic if I get drunk from one drink." He knows he's lying, though. It's in his blood. He can't help what he is. "Just tell me."
"You won, Jack," she says, and he can hear the bitterness in her voice. Bet she wishes he hadn't. Bet she wishes she was with him now. And that's why Jack needs to know. Kate's going to leave him one of these days. "Now let me go."
His hand tightens on her arm. He's never touched her like this before, her or anyone. "Was he rough with you?" he asks.
"Stop this," she says, her voice low and threatening. Kate's hurt people before. She knows how. Everyone knows how, everyone except Jack. "There's no reason to be jealous. I chose you, not him."
"I have to know." It's a fever within him, and he can't stop thinking about it. Someone else had her, someone else loved her. Why can't she give him what he needs so he can be free of this? Once she tells him, she'll be his again.
She hits him. A hard smack across the face with her open hand. It hurts. There might have already been tears in his eyes, he's not sure really, but when he blinks now they fall. Her eyes are cold and hard as diamonds as she glares at him, deciding whether she'll have to do it again. She doesn’t have to. His hand falls away from her slender wrist and she gets up from the bed. "Wild," she says finally. It's the only answer he's going to get, and it hurts. Jack's never been wild, not even close.
"Where do you think he is?" Jack asks, feeling the emptiness of his palm. Of his bed, of his life.
"Hell." Kate's certain. The bedroom door closes behind her.
…
She's not far wrong. He's in Vegas. Heat squiggles up from the pavement in front of a building that's either a motel or an apartment building. Both, neither. Doesn't matter.
Jack didn't lie to her about where he was going. There really is a conference. He's just not there to hear it. He knocks on the door hard enough for it to sting his knuckles. He doesn't know what he's doing here.
Sawyer opens the door. They stare at each other for a long moment, assessing. Then Sawyer slides out of the doorway, allowing Jack to come inside.
The air blasting from a rattling window unit is so cold it hurts. Smoke drifts up from a cigarette in an ashtray next to the queen-sized bed. "Can't say I missed ya," Sawyer grins.
They're still opposites. Light and dark. Sawyer's hair is short now while Jack's drifts into his eyes. Sawyer's thin, but not as thin as Jack. No one's as thin as Jack. "Sorry I missed the wedding," Sawyer says. He gives the cigarette a final, deep suck then stubs it out as he exhales and smoke drifts all around them. "What's it been, a couple years now? Guess my invite musta got lost in the mail."
"She didn't want you there." He feels a flicker of power, of masculinity.
"How is poor dear Freckles these days?" Sawyer asks, and his voice is a little too loud.
"She's fine. We're fine."
"You don't look fine," Sawyer notes, and Jack can feel him looking at the red mark on his face. Then he's got a bottle in his hand and he's asking Jack if he wants some. Jack doesn't answer, but Sawyer puts a glass in his hand anyway. "Yeah, you know you do," he says and Jack hates him.
He hates Sawyer as the first drops burn their way down his throat. He hates Sawyer as his eyes slip closed and he tips his head back to coax every last bit from the glass. He hates the way Sawyer looks at him over the bottle as he pours a refill. He hates Sawyer and that's why he drinks.
"Let me guess," Sawyer says. "You were in town and just happened to think to look me up. Thought we could talk about the good old days."
Jack just feels the soothing heat of the booze flowing through him. Finally it grants him the power of speech. "I need to know how it was. Between you and Kate."
"Story's the same no matter how you look at it, doc," Sawyer says. "We fucked around on the island and then she went and chose you."
"Why didn't you fight for her?" Jack asks.
Sawyer shrugs. "Not worth it."
"She's worth anything." He means it, too. He really does.
"You just keep telling yourself that, doc," Sawyer says. Then he cocks his eyebrow and adds, "Or maybe you never noticed your wife's a lousy lay."
Jack tries to punch him then, but Sawyer dodges. Momentum sends Jack sprawling on the bed. He can't figure out how to get his hands under him to get up, even as Sawyer slides off the bed. "We should eat somethin'."
He rummages through a small fridge in the room's tiny kitchenette and comes back with take-out containers. Jack's managed to sit up and now he watches Sawyer eat. Jack's not even sure he remembers what food is like. He wants some, but he picks up the bottle instead.
"I need to know how it was with you," he says, looking into its empty depths.
"Don't know what I can tell you about fucking your wife that you don't already know," Sawyer says, and glances at him, measuring his reaction.
"She must have been different with you. I need to know. What you did to her. What it felt like."
"Jealous," Sawyer says, and Jack nods. "Of her," Sawyer adds. It doesn't make any sense, but Jack nods again anyway. "Cause she got to have me, and you didn't." He smiles, but he looks almost as scared as Jack feels. "Ain't that flattering," Sawyer murmurs as he reaches out and puts his hand high on Jack's thigh.
That's when Jack knows the doctors were right. They told him it was psychological. They said there was no medical reason why his body failed him the way it had in the past, ever since the island, ever since Kate. He fucks his wife with his fingers, with his mouth, with words sometimes because he can't usually get it up when she's around. But he's hard now. He lets out a little sound, painful and disappointed in himself.
"You want me to show you," Sawyer says. "How I touched her. How it all happened between us." He's breathing as fast as Jack is and his pupils are so dilated his eyes look black. "This is how I kissed her." He puts his mouth on Jack's. Sawyer's tongue swirls hotly against Jack's. Sawyer tastes like life and sex and danger. Jack's wife tastes like toothpaste and she leaves her tongue slack, waiting for him to take the lead. She'll be anything he wants her to be. It's nothing like this.
Sawyer's hands dig into Jack's neck, holding him for a long, delicious moment before he shoves Jack back on the bed. Jack's mouth quests for another kiss that he's not going to get as Sawyer pulls away. He strips away Jack's shirt and puts his mouth on one of the tattoos snaking up his inner arm. Sawyer's not pretending or demonstrating anymore; this is him and Jack now. No one else is in the room with them, least of all Kate.
Sawyer's hands are warm and slightly rough. His touch is firm and strong. But he doesn't use his hands, much. He prefers to use his mouth, something Jack never even considered in all the years he's been thinking about this. Sawyer nips and rakes with his teeth, then takes the pain away with his tongue. Jack uses his hands to explore Sawyer's chest and back and with his eyes closed he could almost be making love to himself. He's never been with a man before. Never had any desire to be.
Now he knows the way Kate must have squirmed. The way she must have screamed. The way her climax must have gone on and on until she thought there was nothing left in the world but the way this felt right now.
"Damn, doc, that was hot," Sawyer says, lying down next to him. He puts his head against Jack's stomach, which is still bucking as he struggles to find the rhythm of his breath. And Jack knows he was right, all this time, to worry. Sex with Sawyer is nothing like the sex Jack and Kate have. Kate doesn't scream, she doesn't kick, she doesn't come half the time and why should she? She just lays there.
He's not good enough for her. The realization comes like a fist in his gut. Jack moans and Sawyer lifts his head, looking in his eyes. He's not good enough for her and he just fucked Sawyer. As he panics, Sawyer smirks. "Told you she was a lousy lay," he says, off the excitement of Jack's reaction. It's obvious Jack hasn't had sex like that in a long time.
But she's not, it's him, it's all him. This is Jack's fault. He wanted to prove something to himself and it's all gone terribly wrong. Jack sits up and the room spins drunkenly.
"Hey…now I think it's my turn," Sawyer teases, making a grab for Jack. But Jack gags, he recoils, without even realizing he's going to until he's done it, and the light goes out in Sawyer's eyes. "This is what you wanted," he yells and kicks the bedframe. "You came to me, jackass."
"I was wrong," Jack says. His shirt is inside-out but he puts it on anyway. The buttons won't line up and the seams bulk up beneath his arms. He doesn't care, he just has to get out of there.
"You were wrong about Kate," Sawyer snaps. "It was never her you wanted back there. You just wanted to fight with me. Because it felt good to fight with me. I know, cause I felt the same damn thing. Why do you think I took her from you? Why do you think I let you have her?"
Jack can't listen to this, even if he knows it's true. Maybe because he knows it's true. All this time, he wanted Sawyer? He can't believe it. He can't. He married Kate, he had dreams about Kate, he was jealous of Kate. He has to go back and face Kate.
"Are you coming back?" Sawyer asks. He's standing in front of the door, head tipped at a defeated angle.
No. Yes. Jack doesn't know. It shows on his face, because Sawyer kisses him. It's tender and soft, a goodbye kiss, so as usual Sawyer knows something Jack doesn't. Jack closes his eyes and kisses Sawyer back. He wants to stay, but he has to get back to Kate. Sawyer opens the door for him to leave and Jack does.
He gets home to an empty house. There's a note on the table that he doesn't have to read, because her ring's there beside it. She's left him. He was right about where she'd go, too. Right to be jealous all these years. If he'd waited longer, she could have caught them together and then what would have happened? He could leave now and go back to Vegas and find Kate and Sawyer together, but Jack doesn't see the point of it.
He opens a new bottle of vodka instead. It's been all the company he needed for awhile now. It'll have to do for tonight.
End.