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Stretch Out and Wait (Jack/Sawyer) NC-17

Title: Stretch Out and Wait
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer, reference to Jack/Ana, Jack/Kate, Sawyer/Kate
Summary: Sawyer doesn't like to wait
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Fire + Water
Note: Sequel to The Hard Way. Part of this fic is me acknowledging the existence of Ana -- although she doesn't actually show up here -- and trying to explain Jack/Ana to myself, for whatever that's worth. This is turning into a series, with at least one more fic planned. Belated bday fic for minaloush, if she wants it! "Why" prompt for fanfic100.


Sawyer wasn't in the hatch. Jack had checked the bedroom, checked the whole damn place, his irritation growing by the second.

Locke watched him circle through the computer room without a word and then finally asked with a quizzical smile on the third tour, "Lose something?"

"No." Jack was not about to get into this with Locke, of all people. Sawyer was supposed to wait for him to change his bandage, but Jack had been running a little late. And Sawyer, who had nothing but time on his hands, had blown him off.

Jack sighed, running his hand over his forehead. He was going to have to go find him. It was just one more of Sawyer's games. Everything was a game to him.

He grabbed the bandages, hydrogen peroxide, water and some towels and threw them into his backpack. He really didn't have time to go track Sawyer down, but with any luck, he'd just be lounging in his airplane seat at the beach.

Maybe, Jack thought, his anger softening as he trod the well-worn path from the hatch to the beach, Sawyer had just fallen asleep, missed their appointment altogether. He'd been meaning to tell him to take it easy. That hike hadn't been the best idea. He'd seen the way Sawyer had gotten winded, had wanted to stop and let him rest, but they hadn't had time for that. And Sawyer wouldn't have taken it well and he hadn't had time for that either.

The only time Sawyer had been a good patient was when he was unconscious.

Here Jack thought Sawyer had been sobered by his brush with death, that he was a new man. And then he had to go and pull that stunt with the kiss. After Sawyer had left, after his blood pressure had returned to normal, he realized it for what it was -- just another way to get under Jack's skin.

He'd been dreading seeing him ever since. He knew he should just shrug it off, tell Sawyer how hard he'd laughed at his little joke, but then he pictured those sea-green eyes staring at him, clouded with something like desire and he thought even Sawyer couldn't fake that. Could he?

As if on cue, some well-chosen curse words sounded from somewhere off to his left. Jack stopped, scanned the jungle for the shock of blonde hair that went with that mouth.

He didn't know why he didn't just call Sawyer's name. Instead, he crept slowly along, following the steady steam of swearing to its source. Sawyer was standing a few feet away, arms outstretched. His shirt was off, sun glancing off his bronzed skin as he moved through his exercises. He looked too handsome, too well-muscled, like he was filming a fitness video, except that his face twisted in pain as he rotated his left arm.

"You're pushing it too hard," Jack called, rushing over to stop Sawyer before the idiot did more harm.

Sawyer looked up. He frowned slightly, but didn't stop as Jack barreled towards him, slipping his backpack to the ground.

"Dammit, Sawyer," Jack said, catching his arm and holding it still. "You ever hear the expression, 'Take it slow?'"

Sawyer smiled at that, dimples deepening with that familiar grin. "Yeah, doc. I'm from the South, remember? 'Cept some things I don't like waitin' for." He cocked one eyebrow meaningfully at Jack, who just shook his head.

"You're going to hurt yourself," he sighed. He changed his grip on Sawyer's arm, mindful of those watchful eyes on him. "Here, like this." He gently guided the arm in a small, contained circle, surprised Sawyer wasn't fighting him on it.

Sawyer's skin was warm to the touch, responsive under his fingers, but he concentrated on the muscles shifting underneath his hand. He'd had to touch him constantly when Sawyer was sick, wipe his brow, clean his wound, even lift him back into bed that once, but an awake Sawyer who could stare back -- or talk back -- was something else altogether.

He would let go in a minute, as soon as Sawyer got it. But for now, he kept his hand where it was, resting lightly on Sawyer's forearm, communicating direction and speed through the pressure of his fingers. And he kept his eyes on the movements of his own hand and Sawyer's arm, nodding in encouragement.

Jack glanced up finally and was thrown by how intently Sawyer was looking at him. The sun was warm, but he could feel the hairs rising on his arms and on the back of his neck. That look was giving him goosebumps.

"Didn't I tell you to have someone help you with this?" Jack chided him, remembering to be angry. "Where's Kate?"

Sawyer merely shrugged, tongue dipping into the hollow of his cheek, which Jack was learning was what he did when he didn't want to say something.

He wanted to ask, but then again, he didn't want to know. Didn't want to encourage Sawyer. Didn't want to let on that he'd given that kiss more thought than he had any right to.

"So your time's too valuable to wait for me?" he couldn't help saying, keeping that tone in his voice that he knew rubbed Sawyer the wrong way.

"Don't like to wait," Sawyer said, pausing in the motion of his arm. He pulled away from Jack's grasp, head tilting back, that slow, easy grin spilling over his features again. "'Sides, knew you were busy."

"Yeah?" Jack took a step back, arms crossing of their own accord.

"Saw you. With her."

Jack set his jaw, a hint of warning as he casually answered. "You following me now?"

"It's a small world, doc. Ain't exactly a lot of privacy here."

"Like that's ever bothered you," Jack muttered.

Sawyer chose to ignore him. He crooked his arm, pushing at it with his other hand in some stretch of his own invention.

"What do you think you're doing?" Jack was at his side in one stride, grabbing his arm. He stepped behind Sawyer, taking control of his arm again. Sawyer just grunted but didn't stop him. As Jack moved his arm for him in slow, steady circles, something in Sawyer seemed to unwind too. His head fell forward, then back. If he were any more relaxed, Jack would be practically holding him up.

They moved together like that for a few silent minutes, until Sawyer's languor seemed to creep into Jack's body too. He felt himself letting out a deep breath, concentrating on getting the kinks out of Sawyer's body .

"Help me out here, doc," Sawyer said slowly, his drawl coming thicker than usual.

"Thought I was helping you," Jack said after a beat. Sawyer couldn't see his smile.

"Why her?"

"Excuse me?" Jack stopped mid-circle, his smile frozen.

"Simple question. Why. Her."

Jack didn't answer, just resumed exercising Sawyer's arm, the same regular, hypnotic pattern of pressure and movement, but with that underlying tension that was never far when he was near Sawyer.

He'd asked himself the same question. And he wasn't sure he had a good answer.

"You really trust her?"

"I don't know Sawyer. Sometimes I'm dumb enough to trust you." He patted Sawyer's arm then gave it a firm squeeze. Let it go.

Sawyer dropped his head, voice rasping deep in his throat. "Yeah, well, I never killed any of us, did I?"

"Sawyer!" The impatience crept back into Jack's voice. He took a deep breath, let it out. "I don't know." He wanted to reason it out for himself, put it in words for once. See how it sounded.

"I first met her at the airport. Before any of this. We talked. Had a drink at the bar. It was all so fucking normal. The last normal thing I did before the crash."

Sawyer didn't say anything, just let him talk. They'd both stopped moving, but he kept his hand on Sawyer's arm. Sawyer was still. Listening. He couldn't see his face, couldn't sense any note of sarcasm, so he plunged on, like he had when Sawyer had been dead to the world. He'd caught Kate doing it too. Just speaking her thoughts out loud, addressing Sawyer like he could hear her. People thought you were crazy if you talked to yourself, so talking to Sawyer had been his release. One he thought he didn't have anymore.

The words kept spilling out. "When I found out she was still alive ... that she'd survived. It's, well you always said that you and Kate had a connection. I guess that's my connection to her. When I talk to her, I'm not this ... person who everyone is depending on for everything. I'm just a guy. She's just a girl. I can be back in that airport bar, wondering what might have happened."

Except, in trying to make it make sense to Sawyer, he saw how much he was lying to himself. Just minutes before he'd entered that bar, he'd been losing it at the airline counter over his dad's coffin. He'd caused a huge scene, could feel everyone staring at him and shaking their heads and he'd slunk off for a drink so he could get his nerve back. His whole idea of "normal" was a lie, and he knew it, but he clung to it anyway.

It took him a minute or two to notice that Sawyer was shaking against him. Shaking with laughter, he realized, with sharp annoyance. "You gotta be kiddin' me, doc," Sawyer finally said when he was able to speak, twisting out of his reach and turning to face him, shaking his head with laughter. "That's your connection? One drink in a bar? And she gets a free pass for life?"

Jack stiffened. What the hell he'd been thinking to actually confide in Sawyer? Just because he'd spent hours with him in that hatch, that wasn't any kind of real connection either. He was just fooling himself again. "Just forget it," he said with a tight, angry smile.

Sawyer had stopped laughing, but he was still shaking his head. "You got a real problem seeing people for what they are, don't you? So you build them up into something they're not. No wonder you're so mad at Kate for letting you down. And when you find out about this one..."

"Look," Jack gritted, wanting to run but suddenly remembering why he'd hunted Sawyer down in the first place. "I'm just here to change your bandage." He gestured in the direction of his backpack. "And maybe I do keep expecting the best of people. Like that you might not be an asshole for more than five minutes at a time."

Sawyer took a step closer. "Awww, doc. You're just too easy a target, you know." He put a hand on Jack's cheek. "And you're awful pretty when you're mad."

"Stop it." Jack pushed his hand away but Sawyer didn't move. He had that amused look in his eyes, the same one he'd had right before he'd kissed him.

Sawyer leaned in even closer, lips brushing Jack's ear as he spoke, his voice so low, it went right through Jack. "You say all you two do is talk? C'mon, Jack." His hand was at the small of Jack's back and his warm breath against his ear was enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck again. He shivered, and Sawyer brushed his cheek against his, just the slightest touch.

Jack said his name low, just like breath escaping, no longer knowing if he meant it as a reprimand or an encouragement.

Sawyer murmured softly as his lips traced a path across his cheek, hovering over his mouth, words he couldn't hear, could only feel as puffs of breath.

He waited for the kiss he knew was coming, so busy telling himself he should go, go now before it happened, that he wasn't prepared for the shock of Sawyer's hand slipping under his T-shirt.

Sawyer's touch was gentle but Jack reacted like he'd been hit, stomach clenching with the need to hit back or run. While his body froze, his mind raced, trying to remember when Sawyer had ever touched him before, before that kiss. Maybe that first day, after the crash, in that scuffle. The first time he'd even noticed Sawyer and he was on him in a flash, grabbing hold and pulling hard. Maybe he'd never stopped; everything had started in that first touch. He let flashes of it play in his mind, safer in memory than in the moment as Sawyer's hand trailed teasingly across his stomach,

He'd had his hands on Sawyer so many times but it never meant anything, he always told himself. He had just been saving his life. Stitching him up. Holding him down. Holding him back. Belting him hard on the jaw and aching to do it again. Soothing him when he was wracked with fever. Wiping away the sweat and the pain. All the things he had to do to keep Sawyer alive and keep him in line -- which were really the same thing.

Now staring into those damned piercing blue-green eyes, only a few inches from his face, triumphantly noting Jack's every reaction -- how he bit his lip, how his hand strayed to Sawyer's hip of its own accord -- he knew Sawyer had been keeping score but not in a way he'd ever dreamed.

Jack couldn't look away, couldn't move in the agonizing moment before Sawyer's hand drifted up instead of down. He wasn't even seeing Sawyer's smile, just knew it from the way the line around his eyes deepened, felt it in the way his hand moved, the way his nostrils flared. Jack's eyes fluttered shut as Sawyer rolled a nipple between his thumb and finger and it wasn't hard to imagine Sawyer's hand on his cock now. Too hard to imagine anything else.

He bit back a groan, some crazy, frustrated sense of pride not wanting to let Sawyer know just what he was doing to him, that he could barely breathe. Sawyer was teasing him to death and he was going to kill him for that.

And then, at last, Sawyer's hand inched downward, cupping him through his jeans and Jack nodded, pride and body crumbling in a rush of need. They both fumbled with the buttons of his fly and then Sawyer had him in hand. Jack had to close his eyes again, overwhelmed at the sensation of just being touched. He fought to hold out but the waves of pleasure Sawyer was sending through him were too intense, his breath coming in short, staccato bursts and the world already spinning behind his eyes. He was already on the edge, when a hiss from Sawyer pulled him back.

Jack pushed his hand away when he saw that Sawyer's face was contorted in pain. "Stop," he ordered.

"No." Sawyer spoke the word softly, shaking his head slightly, frowning as he fought to keep going. Annoyance flashed over his face and Jack realized he didn't understand. He let his forehead rest against his, as if he could get through his thick skull that easily.

"Let me," Jack insisted, rubbing his fingers lightly over Sawyer's hand, until he relaxed his grip. "Still your doctor, you know. You have to do what I say."

A low, pleased laugh sounded in Sawyer's throat. "Do I, now?" he whispered in his ear, stubble like sandpaper against his cheek as Jack started undoing his belt.

"Yes." He was the one in charge now and Sawyer moaned in approval, his head falling on Jack's shoulder as Jack splayed his fingers to take hold of both their cocks. He added a gob of spit with his other hand, stroking the moisture over them both, savoring the little shudders that shook Sawyer under his touch. He didn't know if it was his knees or Sawyer's that gave out, suddenly they were both falling to the ground in a tangle, too wrapped up in each other to feel the impact.

Jack was on top, thrusting hard and fast as Sawyer rocked up into him, his face so vulnerable in ecstasy that Jack's breath caught in his throat.

"You're ... oh god ... fuck!" Sawyer gasped, unable to keep his own hand from sliding over Jack's but they were both so close now Jack didn't stop him. Sawyer's head fell back and his body jerked under Jack, his deep, throaty groan sending Jack crashing down seconds after him. The blood roared in his ears, blotting out everything but the sheer fucking bliss of it as the rush hit him and he was left gasping for air, as drenched and drained as if he'd been tossed back by the ocean.

Maybe, he thought with a wry smile, as his breath came back and he noticed how his T-shirt clung to him, he should have taken it off first. It was soaked with sweat and Sawyer's come. He sat back and pulled it over his head, wiping himself off with it and then dabbing at Sawyer's chest and stomach. Sawyer lay back obligingly, arms behind his head, stretching like a contented cat, watching Jack through half-lidded eyes.

"Just gonna rest for a minute," Sawyer said, nestling his head into the curve of one arm.

"Too much?" Jack snapped back into concerned doctor mode.

"Nah. Just right." Sawyer smiled sleepily. He yawned and stretched again. His eyes closed slowly and within a few seconds, he was out.

Jack lay back next to him, something he'd never let himself do before. He'd nodded off a few times in the chair during those long vigils with Sawyer, but he'd wake up with a start each time, expecting Sawyer to have opened his eyes while he'd been sleeping, fearing he'd missed it, both relieved and disappointed to find Sawyer still sunk in oblivion. He'd left Sawyer in Kate's care and that's when it had finally happened. Jack didn't know until now how much he'd hated missing that moment.

He could wait now. Wait till Sawyer woke. He hadn't even changed his bandage yet.
Tags: jack/sawyer, lost_fic
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