Summary: A voyeur gives Kate an idea
Pairing: Kate/Sawyer (yes, het, for once!)
Note: Smut, mini plot, smut. No one dies. No torture. Just sex! And just a *little* bit of angst. Written because foxxcub put a 9mm to my head and said, "Uh, uh, uh, you little slash pimp!" And please note this is not a "Sex with Sawyer is Dirty" fic. It's a "Sex With Kate is Dirty" fic. Vive le difference.
Sawyer pressed his left hand on Kate’s abdomen, a few inches below her navel. “Oh my God. What is that?” she gasped as the pleasure he was already giving her with his tongue and his other hand intensified sharply.
“Some kind of tantric sex thing,” he said, pulling his head up and grinning wickedly at her. “You like?” All he knew was it was practically the same to a woman as sucking on a nipple.
She answered him with a moan as he lowered his mouth back to her clit, his right hand thrusting inside her, driving her insane. She covered her face with one hand, the other clutching at her breast. She shook helplessly under his expert touch. He didn’t stop until he felt her convulsions and heard her cry out.
He could never understand guys who couldn’t tell if a woman had come or not. Sawyer always made a woman come. If he had time, of course. And here on this stinking island, they had nothing but time.
Already he knew what little things drove Kate nuts and today he’d added one more thing to the list. So she hadn’t known that one, he thought, pleased he’d been the man to show it to her.
He crawled up her body, planting a kiss on her parted lips. “Sawyer,” she breathed with a dewy, clearly very satisfied smile. She sat up draping her arms lazily over his shoulders, her whole body languid. He had done that, made her scream, made her melt, made her glow, and that made him feel awful damn good.
He moved in for another kiss when she stiffened. He pulled back, puzzled. She let out out a stifled cry, her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with alarm.
“What is it?” he asked, looking around.
“There was someone there,” she said, pointing at a spot in the bushes.
“You sure?” he asked. He stood up and parted the leaves on the nearest bush. “I don’t see anyone.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” she said, hastily pulling on her jeans.
“Did you see who it was?” he asked, still combing the underbrush in vain.
“No. All I know is it was a man.” She looked suitably freaked out.
“How do you know?” he asked. She gave him a pointed look and then he got it.
“Oh!” he said. “Fuck! So some fuckin’ pervert is beatin’ off while watching us? I’ll kill him. I’ll find him and then I’ll kill him.”
”It could have been anyone,” she said with a shiver. “Well, OK, not Michael. And probably not Jin. Or Charlie. His, uh, hair was pretty dark.”
“And you’re sure you didn’t recognize his ..." Sawyer started to chuckle. “What say we do a lineup?”
“Funny!” she said, but she wasn’t amused. “What if it was Locke?” she shuddered.
“Fuckin’ creepy,” he agreed. “I wouldn’t put it past that nutjob.” He stopped, running down all the suspects in his mind. “It was probably that tubby guy. Yours is probably the only pussy he’s ever seen in his life that wasn’t on the Internet”
“Sawyer, please!” she said. And then she stopped, a smile playing on her lips. “What if it was Jack?” she asked teasingly.
“Jack?!” Sawyer spluttered. “Don’t make me laugh. That Boy Scout? No fuckin’ way.”
And then he saw the way she was smiling. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he said, turning the matter over in his mind. “Jesus, Kate, you tellin’ me you’d get off on that if it was the doc spying on us?”
“Does that shock you?” she said, walking over and rubbing her hands on his chest.
“Yeah, it does, a little,” he admitted, eying her cautiously, his hands on her shoulders. “I didn’t figure you for that kind of thing.”
“I guess you don’t know me that well, then,” she said, catching his lower lip between her teeth. She smiled, and he knew that smile. It was one he used when he wanted to get something from someone. Seeing it on her gave him a chill.
“Do something for me?” she asked, her voice singsongy, like a little girl.
“Yeah?” he said, on his guard, even though he knew what she was going to ask for.
“I want Jack, too,” she said, looking down as she said it, then bringing her eyes up to catch his reaction.
“Too?” he asked, still holding her, one eyebrow raised. “As in ‘at the same time?’”
“Mmm hmm,” she said, managing to look innocent and wicked simultaneously, her cheeks flushed, her lips wet.
“Dirty girl!” he said, shaking his head at her, a not-quite-smile on his lips. “So let’s assume for argument’s sake that I was on board with this. How in the hell are we going to get Jimmy Stewart to go along?”
“Well, I thought I’d start by getting him drunk,” she said, shooting him another glance from under her eyelashes.
“Uh huh. You want me to share you with that jackass *and* you want me to use up some of my precious stash to get it done? You are un-fucking-believable, sweetheart.”
“You haven’t said you don’t want to,” she said, “Which means you do.”
”Oh, do I?” he asked with a crooked smile. He searched her face and made sure she wasn’t just joking. His heart flip-flopped when he realized she wasn’t. Shit. He hadn’t thought this was true love, exactly, but then again he didn’t think it was just sex. Until now.
Fuck it. It that’s what she wanted, it was her funeral, he decided. “Fine,” he said, his eyes growing hard, and his jaw twitching ever so slightly. “But you’ll never get him to agree. Never in a million years.”
“I have my ways,” she said mischievously. “I just want to know you won’t back out.”
“Anything for my dirty girl,” he sighed. He pulled her to him for a rough kiss. “Slut,” he whispered in her ear. “You want me to fuck you, huh?”
Not waiting for an answer, he tugged her jeans off her hips and laid her down. He pounded her mercilessly, with each thrust breathing a different insult into her ears as he pulled at her hair. This time, he didn’t care if she came or not, but he wasn’t surprised when she did.
TBC ... PDQ