Pairing: Jack/Kate with a side of Sawyer/Kate and Jack/Sawyer
Summary: Sex is a luxury in a place like this.
Spoilers: Up through "... and Found"
Note: Apologies for another Jack/Kate shower fic. Written for the fanfic100 prompt, #84 "He."
She’s a little worried about being caught, but there’s no way she’s denying herself this shower. As she lathers her hair, she feels positively sinful. The hot water and the soap are the height of decadence and she closes her eyes, letting all the tension, all the quarrels, just all of it, wash away.
She imagines Jack yelling at her, hands on hips, that disappointed look on his face, and she sighs. They’re stuck here and at some point, she’s stopped even thinking of Jack as a man. Yes, he’s a man in that he needs to be right, he needs to be in control and he needs to fix everything. But he’s not a man, not the way he was at first, when she had to admit her skin tingled when he was near.
Whatever was between them at first has evaporated completely under the burden of distrust and the daily rigors of just staying alive. Sex would be a luxury in a place like this. Better not to start anything, she told herself at first and then it just wasn’t an issue anymore.
But then he stumbles into the bathroom when she’s wearing nothing but a towel and his jaw goes slack and his eyes go wide and he can’t think of what to say and God, is he blushing? She thought he would be mad, if he caught her, but he’s about as far from mad as you can get. “You could use a shower too,” she says, grinning to see that he’s still kind of struck dumb, and she walks out, leaving him to what she knows are dirty thoughts about her and she feels her own cheeks flushing and heart beating fast and she doesn’t want to leave.
She hovers in the hallway, risking someone else (please not Locke!) stumbling across her because she’s still not dressed, and waits to hear the sound of water. She pictures him standing there, struggling with giving into temptation. All work and no play make Jack a candidate for a heart attack, she’s been thinking lately. She wishes him into the shower, pictures him stripping off his clothes and letting the hot water wash over him, and then she imagines his hands running over his body, taking his cock in hand and jerking off while moaning her name.
The sound of water brings her out of her reverie. She ducks her head and smiles and walks back into the bathroom. Jack’s clothes are in a neat pile on the counter and she shakes her head at the sight. She put down her own clothes, a crumpled pile by now, next to his and peers around the corner.
He’s soaping his chest, his eyes closed. He looks positively blissful. She takes in his body, the familiar tattoos and the densely furred chest which she’s seen before, but only two or three times, and then her eyes travel downward.
She’s disappointed to see that he’s apparently not thinking about her but his cock looks just as she’d imagined it, the size of him suits his frame perfectly. She steps forward and even though she doesn’t make any noise, he turns to face her. His eyes widen but he doesn’t say anything. She lets the towel drop and those dark eyes take her in, all of her, so intently that she feels a flush spreading over her exposed skin.
She walks toward him -- he’s frozen, soap in hand -- and she thinks, why she doesn’t know, that if this were Sawyer, he’d be grinning that devilish smile at her and he’d say something appreciative in that low drawl of his that always made her melt a little. But this is Jack and he’s just burning her up with his eyes until she’s close enough to touch him.
“Kate?” he says at last and the huskiness in her voice is doing funny things to her. She takes the soap from his hands and starts to rub it over his chest and he sighs then, pulling her in, his hands running down her back until they reach the curve of her ass.
He leans down to kiss her, pulling her against him and the soap slides out of her hands. His kiss is slow and deep and he’s making little moaning noises of need in the back of his throat. His cock is pressing into her thigh now and she takes it in her hand, sending a tremor through him at her touch. He cradles her head in his hands, thumbs tracing circles over her cheeks, and he’s breathing hard as she draws his cock into her.
A shudder runs through him once he’s inside her and then all his control is gone. He backs her up against the wall, one hand braced by her head, the other pulling her leg up and wrapping it around him. She gasps as he thrusts harder. Her head falls back, making a hollow sound against the tiles and she doesn’t care and Jack doesn’t stop.
His hand’s on her hip now and if she thought he’d be gentle or careful, she’s wrong. His grip is strong enough to bruise as he slides almost completely out of her and then back again, deeper each time. Each little sound she makes speeds up his movements, hastens his breath. She pushes back hard, wrapping herself tighter around him and he comes with a groan that seems wrenched from deep inside him.
His mouth claims her again, tongue tangling with hers and she can’t believe how he can take his time to kiss her like this, so slow and sensual because this is Jack. His cock slips out but his hand moves to take its place. He’s leaning in, watching her reaction as his fingers move inside her and she has to close her eyes at the intensity of it. His thumb rubs over her clit, working in time with his fingers and he’s sending prickles of pleasure radiating out with each stroke. His mouth finds her breast, teasing the nipple between his teeth, and the two circles of pleasure are spreading out, overlapping, like ripples in a pond, until she’s gasping and begging him to stop.
She leans up to kiss him even though she’s still breathless, and when she pulls back, he’s finally smiling. She drops her head to his chest and she’s smiling too and he cradles her like that for a minute. Then he pulls her back toward the shower and slowly washes every inch of her, his hands gentle now, and by the time he’s done, he’s hard again.
They collapse on the floor on the towels and where he was rough and impatient the first time, now he takes his time, moving slowly inside her, pulling her legs higher, until he’s as deep as he can go, and the whole time he doesn’t stop kissing her. His mouth is on hers and then on her neck as she arches up to meet him again and again.
When he starts to get close, he slows down until she nods and then he brings her to orgasm with him, already knowing just how to touch her.
The floor’s not at all comfortable but neither one of them wants to get up, limbs languid from sex and each other’s warmth.
Finally, he pulls her to her feet and then they finish showering, both of them exploring each other’s body until the hot water runs out.
He rubs her hair dry with a towel and he’s too hard and she’s batting at him and laughing for him to stop and then it’s his turn and neither one of them can stop laughing. Finally they get dressed and he kisses her once more, taking her hand in his and then he steps back, like he’s memorizing the way she looks right now, and he drops her hand, fingers brushing in parting. He drops his head, smiles, and is gone and she waits a few minutes and then she leaves too.
She wonders if they’ve been missed, but more importantly, what this means now. If this was it, that’s fine with her. She tells herself she did it because Jack needed it, needed to relax, and she puts aside the question of want. Jack lives inside his head too much, she thinks, and now he remembers that there’s more to life than planning and analyzing and just coping.
That night, on the beach, Hurley distributes all the food and it’s like a party, their first one. She’s never seen Jack so relaxed and boyish. He’s like someone else, someone she barely knows as they fight over food and giggle like teenagers at every little thing. He keeps finding an excuse to touch her and then he’ll catch her eye and smile again in that way that heats up her skin.
After everyone has called it a night, he takes her hand and they walk up the beach and then they make love under the stars. She keeps thinking, “This is it now.” It’s been a perfect day but it has to end. He kisses her good night and she goes back to her tent. Tomorrow, something will happen and he’ll remember he doesn’t trust her or he’ll expect her to unquestioningly take his side now and the first time she doesn’t, that will be that. She tells herself she won’t let herself be sad when the time comes.
She expects that it will be something she does that ends it, but it isn’t.
When she sees Sun sitting under the tree on the beach, she walks over to offer her sympathy over her missing wedding ring. Jack had told her about it earlier and there was that moment when she knew he was thinking about his wife and she realizes she still doesn’t know how that ended. And that Jack doesn’t even know she was married at all. Only Sawyer knows that and somehow she doesn’t think he told anyone.
She’s already thinking of Sawyer as she sits down next to Sun. She’s the walking reminder of who’s out there on the raft and whether by choice or everyone’s discomfort around her, she seems to spend more time by herself since the raft sailed. By unspoken agreement, no one mentions the raft at all.
And then Sun tells her about the bottle and Kate stops breathing for a second. It doesn’t mean anything, she tells herself but she looks at the quiet resignation in Sun and she knows differently. Sun shows her the bottle and she tears through the letters, not sure why except to make sure that it’s not some other bottle full of messages, like the ocean might be full of them. Her vision is too blurry to read the letters anyway, even if Sun didn’t stop her.
“I didn’t get to say goodbye,” she says and saying it out loud is like admitting Sawyer is really dead.
That’s what felt wrong about with being with Jack, she thinks now. By moving toward Jack, she was moving away from Sawyer. She’d spent so long poised between them, that choosing Jack feels like a betrayal to Sawyer, even though he’s not here.
And then she tells herself that she’s being silly, that she doesn’t regret one second with Jack and that they’re both alive and that’s all that matters.
“We need to show Jack,” she tells Sun and she nods and lets her take it.
Kate finds him, the bottle held behind her back. A smile lights up his face when he sees her and she considers not telling him. But then she just pulls it out and hands it to him. His face falls and she knows this is it. Reality has caught back up with them and there’s nothing to be carefree about anymore.
“I’m sorry,” she says, rubbing his arm as he stares at the bottle and why does she feel that this is all her fault? He nods and walks away, his eyes bright and she wonders if he’s mourning the hope of rescue or the people on the raft more. But in her gut, she knows the answer. She knows.
He doesn’t come to her that night or the next night. On the third night, there’s a shout and everyone runs over as Michael and Jin and some strangers wander into camp, dog tired and bruised. They’re carrying something and she knows it’s Sawyer.
He’s not dead, but by the grim expression on Jack’s face, she knows he’s close.
Jack won’t let her help, just yells at her to leave, so she waits out the night on the beach, letting her limbs grow numb as the moon moves across the sky.
She stares into the fire, remembering her last conversation with Sawyer, right here. It stings to remember that he left hating her. Somehow she’s managed to convince herself otherwise, but as she runs through it in her mind again, she remembers each word he said, how she could feel his contempt and the hurt as strongly as she felt the heat of the fire, and she doesn’t fight it anymore.
If he’d died at sea, just disappeared, she thinks she would have kept lying to herself. But seeing him cradled in Jack’s arms as he works feverishly to save his life, she lets the truth in.
She remembers the feel of Jack inside of her and she thinks that if Sawyer dies, Jack will either come to her or he will be through with her forever.
When the sun rises, she walks back to the caves, to see which it will be.