sawyer, juliet
sawyer, juliet (/jack)
NC-17
appx 1600 words
pre-3.06 "I Do"
i've already porned these two, so this is kinky but it veers away from the pairing at hand
Sawyer can't sleep. Who could in a place like this? Despite the fatigue and the hunger and what must be drugs in his food, he finds he can only lie there half asleep on the cold ground, always alert to the noises around him, brain always reeling
For a while, he'd entertained fantasies of Freckles, but she's both too close and too far away, so that drove him crazy. He's tried to override his hormones, anyway; it makes no sense to get himself all worked up when he can't do anything about it but jerk off out in the open. And it seems singularly weird, anyway, for him to be thinking about sex when there are people trying to kill him.
He knows he's using sex as a distraction, so he forces himself to think of the ever-present problem at hand, but that just makes him too angry or too despondent, sometimes both at once. It's something else that's too close and too far away at the same time. Sure, Kate could get him out, and she could run with him; hell, those bastards might not even use the taser on them or shoot at them. They might let them get to the ocean just so they could realize they have nowhere else to go but back to the cages.
So Sawyer thinks about the people he's encountered. He imagines pounding that big, cave-man like guy into the ground. He'd kill him if he could. He doesn't reckon there's much in that man's head. His psyche is for sure fucked up, but Sawyer's sure he doesn't think anymore. On the other hand, Sawyer can spend hours deciphering Henry Gale's brain, sure that if he had a book on Freud it would make more sense somehow. He tries to imagine the sort of mind games Gale's playing with Jack. He's not sure if he believes Jack's too strong for it or just the sort of sucker that mind games like that work on.
Mostly, he wonders about Juliet, the one that held the gun to his head. She seemed so calm, so cool, that he wanted to grab her, shake her, see her react again. He'd seen just a split second of fire, out at the place where they had him breaking rocks, but after that moment of force, she was in control of him and the situation without having to do anything but use her voice to make things happen. A damn shame, he thinks, because she's got a body she could do a lot with.
When he wonders about Jack, sometimes he wonders if he has to deal with Juliet. Does she float into his existence just long enough to offer words and ultimatums, like she does with him and Kate, or does she have a more substantial impact on him. Is she his Henry Gale? Maybe that's where she's gone to so much. If she's with Jack, what is she using to confuse him, her words or that body with its generous curves?
Sawyer leans back against the cage, fitting his shoulder blades to the hard, cold bars. He knows Jack isn't in a cage like this. They'd treat him better. Hell, he's probably the one they really wanted. He imagines instead a hut, dirt floor and an old lantern hanging in the corner. She brings the lantern when she comes in. But what would she wear? He's only seen her in no-nonsense clothes-clean but unimaginative. She wouldn't dare tart herself up for Jack, but Sawyer imagines that when she goes to see him, she finds something that shows off her ample cleavage, as if by accident. She probably wears a skirt, too, maybe reaching as far as her knees, but it shows a hint of thigh when she sits down. And it's white-starling, gleaming white, as if to taunt him.
Sawyer doesn't wonder why he's imagining Juliet with Jack, not even as he finds himself imagining Jack's responses, wondering if he'd be turned on by her simple but obvious seduction. He feels like he knows Jack well enough to know his responses, and he'd never ever let on for a million years that he was turned on, even if he was. He'd probably be able to keep himself from going hard, even if she touched him. In Sawyer's mind, Juliet finally runs her hand down Jack's arm, and Jack doesn't jerk away. Jack wouldn't jerk away. If a person took enough time, Jack would sit still and let it overtake him.
He's still convinced he's thinking about Juliet when he imagines her straddling Jack. Maybe there's some wooden chair he's sitting on, and she just hikes up that skirt a little and sits on his lap, hands holding him by either side of the neck. Her breasts swell against his chest, and Sawyer suddenly wonders how dirty Jack is, if he's covered in sweat and dirt like he is. Would Juliet like that? But Sawyer's not thinking about Juliet smelling him, tasting his skin. He's startled to realize he's really fucking curious to know if she'd want to taste Jack.
It makes him pause, really it does-the strange fascination-but he's already too turned on to stop and think too much. Weird things happen when you fantasize, he reasons, so he just goes with it. Jack doesn't say anything, but his hands rest on Juliet's hips, and he watches her peel off her shirt. No bra, so now it's those beautiful round tits right there, and he's looking down at them, hungry but unwilling to admit to wanting her. She doesn't have to try too hard, though, to get him to relent. She just moans and rocks her body into his, and it makes him hard. It makes Sawyer hard just thinking about it. Achingly hard, and he wants to touch himself so bad.
He just glances over at Kate's cage, and she's asleep. He doesn't want to risk it, though, so he just rubs his hand over the bulge in his pants, his eyes still wide open and trained on the open space between the cages. Would Jack be afraid of getting caught? he wonders. Not now, not with Juliet so desperate for him. Jack's hands are large and dark with grime against the white of her breasts, the soft pink of her nipples. When he pinches and squeezes, she just writhes with abandon, like all her usual coldness is a lie and what's real is how much she's a slut for Jack, for his hands and his body. Sawyer's so hard now he can only think about getting his hand wrapped around his cock. So he unzips slowly, quietly, and hopes like hell he'll be alone for another few minutes at least.
She imagines Juliet's hands, so strong and efficient, but they're not one his cock but on Jack's. Jack's big, pink and engorged and Sawyer closes his eyes, finally, as he starts to stroke himself. He sees Juliet get off Jack's lap and slide to her knees. He can almost feel it in his cock, that wet heat, but then he thinks about what it would look like, and suddenly he's inside Juliet's head, watching Jack's cock slide into her mouth. He feels his heart kick against his chest: he can taste him, feel the warm soft head of his cock against his tongue. He grips one of the bars of the cage with his hand and squeezes the bar and his cock so hard it hurts, but it doesn't matter now. His eyes fly open, and he's still seeing Juliet knelt between Jack's legs, Jack's thick thighs and his long flushed cock.
He knows Jack wouldn't make much noise. He's just grunt, hold it in, just like Sawyer is now. He tries to imagine Jack tugging at her hair, forcing her to move faster, but he can't help but feel it tingle over his own scalp. He wants to curse, because the images won't leave his head, but he can't, can't wake anybody up, can't even groan at how fucking hard he is and how he wants what he's seeing so bad he can feel it make his balls draw up. He imagines Juliet crawling onto Jack's lap again and sinking down onto him, and he can't see their bodies connect for her skirt, so he feels Juliet sinking down onto him as he somehow also watches Jack's hands grope at her breasts. But the look on Jack's face isn't tough like that, because he isn't the one in charge here. She's riding him hard, and his head falls back and his open eyes roll back into his head when he comes. As Sawyer feels and hears Juliet come, too-coming from Jack's long, loud orgasm-he bites the inside of his lip and spills himself on the dirt between his legs.
He feels like his breath is ten times as loud as it should be, and he can't get himself tucked back into his pants fast enough. He honestly can't believe he just jerked off within twenty feet of Kate, when anybody could walk by. Juliet could decide she wanted to fuck with his head again. His cock gives a half-hearted twitch at that idea, and he leans his head against one of the cage bars, grinding into it until it makes his head throb. His hand's sticky, and he can't think why in the hell Juliet would need to seduce Jack. Just to do it, maybe. Just to see him come unglued. Sawyer raises his hand to his lips, and when he begins to suck the come off his fingers, he can only taste Jack. He wishes to God he could risk the noise of beating his head into the bar behind him, just until it hurt enough to be distracting.
NC-17
appx 1600 words
pre-3.06 "I Do"
i've already porned these two, so this is kinky but it veers away from the pairing at hand
Sawyer can't sleep. Who could in a place like this? Despite the fatigue and the hunger and what must be drugs in his food, he finds he can only lie there half asleep on the cold ground, always alert to the noises around him, brain always reeling
For a while, he'd entertained fantasies of Freckles, but she's both too close and too far away, so that drove him crazy. He's tried to override his hormones, anyway; it makes no sense to get himself all worked up when he can't do anything about it but jerk off out in the open. And it seems singularly weird, anyway, for him to be thinking about sex when there are people trying to kill him.
He knows he's using sex as a distraction, so he forces himself to think of the ever-present problem at hand, but that just makes him too angry or too despondent, sometimes both at once. It's something else that's too close and too far away at the same time. Sure, Kate could get him out, and she could run with him; hell, those bastards might not even use the taser on them or shoot at them. They might let them get to the ocean just so they could realize they have nowhere else to go but back to the cages.
So Sawyer thinks about the people he's encountered. He imagines pounding that big, cave-man like guy into the ground. He'd kill him if he could. He doesn't reckon there's much in that man's head. His psyche is for sure fucked up, but Sawyer's sure he doesn't think anymore. On the other hand, Sawyer can spend hours deciphering Henry Gale's brain, sure that if he had a book on Freud it would make more sense somehow. He tries to imagine the sort of mind games Gale's playing with Jack. He's not sure if he believes Jack's too strong for it or just the sort of sucker that mind games like that work on.
Mostly, he wonders about Juliet, the one that held the gun to his head. She seemed so calm, so cool, that he wanted to grab her, shake her, see her react again. He'd seen just a split second of fire, out at the place where they had him breaking rocks, but after that moment of force, she was in control of him and the situation without having to do anything but use her voice to make things happen. A damn shame, he thinks, because she's got a body she could do a lot with.
When he wonders about Jack, sometimes he wonders if he has to deal with Juliet. Does she float into his existence just long enough to offer words and ultimatums, like she does with him and Kate, or does she have a more substantial impact on him. Is she his Henry Gale? Maybe that's where she's gone to so much. If she's with Jack, what is she using to confuse him, her words or that body with its generous curves?
Sawyer leans back against the cage, fitting his shoulder blades to the hard, cold bars. He knows Jack isn't in a cage like this. They'd treat him better. Hell, he's probably the one they really wanted. He imagines instead a hut, dirt floor and an old lantern hanging in the corner. She brings the lantern when she comes in. But what would she wear? He's only seen her in no-nonsense clothes-clean but unimaginative. She wouldn't dare tart herself up for Jack, but Sawyer imagines that when she goes to see him, she finds something that shows off her ample cleavage, as if by accident. She probably wears a skirt, too, maybe reaching as far as her knees, but it shows a hint of thigh when she sits down. And it's white-starling, gleaming white, as if to taunt him.
Sawyer doesn't wonder why he's imagining Juliet with Jack, not even as he finds himself imagining Jack's responses, wondering if he'd be turned on by her simple but obvious seduction. He feels like he knows Jack well enough to know his responses, and he'd never ever let on for a million years that he was turned on, even if he was. He'd probably be able to keep himself from going hard, even if she touched him. In Sawyer's mind, Juliet finally runs her hand down Jack's arm, and Jack doesn't jerk away. Jack wouldn't jerk away. If a person took enough time, Jack would sit still and let it overtake him.
He's still convinced he's thinking about Juliet when he imagines her straddling Jack. Maybe there's some wooden chair he's sitting on, and she just hikes up that skirt a little and sits on his lap, hands holding him by either side of the neck. Her breasts swell against his chest, and Sawyer suddenly wonders how dirty Jack is, if he's covered in sweat and dirt like he is. Would Juliet like that? But Sawyer's not thinking about Juliet smelling him, tasting his skin. He's startled to realize he's really fucking curious to know if she'd want to taste Jack.
It makes him pause, really it does-the strange fascination-but he's already too turned on to stop and think too much. Weird things happen when you fantasize, he reasons, so he just goes with it. Jack doesn't say anything, but his hands rest on Juliet's hips, and he watches her peel off her shirt. No bra, so now it's those beautiful round tits right there, and he's looking down at them, hungry but unwilling to admit to wanting her. She doesn't have to try too hard, though, to get him to relent. She just moans and rocks her body into his, and it makes him hard. It makes Sawyer hard just thinking about it. Achingly hard, and he wants to touch himself so bad.
He just glances over at Kate's cage, and she's asleep. He doesn't want to risk it, though, so he just rubs his hand over the bulge in his pants, his eyes still wide open and trained on the open space between the cages. Would Jack be afraid of getting caught? he wonders. Not now, not with Juliet so desperate for him. Jack's hands are large and dark with grime against the white of her breasts, the soft pink of her nipples. When he pinches and squeezes, she just writhes with abandon, like all her usual coldness is a lie and what's real is how much she's a slut for Jack, for his hands and his body. Sawyer's so hard now he can only think about getting his hand wrapped around his cock. So he unzips slowly, quietly, and hopes like hell he'll be alone for another few minutes at least.
She imagines Juliet's hands, so strong and efficient, but they're not one his cock but on Jack's. Jack's big, pink and engorged and Sawyer closes his eyes, finally, as he starts to stroke himself. He sees Juliet get off Jack's lap and slide to her knees. He can almost feel it in his cock, that wet heat, but then he thinks about what it would look like, and suddenly he's inside Juliet's head, watching Jack's cock slide into her mouth. He feels his heart kick against his chest: he can taste him, feel the warm soft head of his cock against his tongue. He grips one of the bars of the cage with his hand and squeezes the bar and his cock so hard it hurts, but it doesn't matter now. His eyes fly open, and he's still seeing Juliet knelt between Jack's legs, Jack's thick thighs and his long flushed cock.
He knows Jack wouldn't make much noise. He's just grunt, hold it in, just like Sawyer is now. He tries to imagine Jack tugging at her hair, forcing her to move faster, but he can't help but feel it tingle over his own scalp. He wants to curse, because the images won't leave his head, but he can't, can't wake anybody up, can't even groan at how fucking hard he is and how he wants what he's seeing so bad he can feel it make his balls draw up. He imagines Juliet crawling onto Jack's lap again and sinking down onto him, and he can't see their bodies connect for her skirt, so he feels Juliet sinking down onto him as he somehow also watches Jack's hands grope at her breasts. But the look on Jack's face isn't tough like that, because he isn't the one in charge here. She's riding him hard, and his head falls back and his open eyes roll back into his head when he comes. As Sawyer feels and hears Juliet come, too-coming from Jack's long, loud orgasm-he bites the inside of his lip and spills himself on the dirt between his legs.
He feels like his breath is ten times as loud as it should be, and he can't get himself tucked back into his pants fast enough. He honestly can't believe he just jerked off within twenty feet of Kate, when anybody could walk by. Juliet could decide she wanted to fuck with his head again. His cock gives a half-hearted twitch at that idea, and he leans his head against one of the cage bars, grinding into it until it makes his head throb. His hand's sticky, and he can't think why in the hell Juliet would need to seduce Jack. Just to do it, maybe. Just to see him come unglued. Sawyer raises his hand to his lips, and when he begins to suck the come off his fingers, he can only taste Jack. He wishes to God he could risk the noise of beating his head into the bar behind him, just until it hurt enough to be distracting.