Pairings: Jack/Kate, Jack/Sawyer
Summary: Does Kate want Jack or does she just want the key he wears around his neck?
Spoilers: Up through "Whatever the Case May Be"
Note: My plot bunny got together with one from ada_farrow, who wanted some rejection-leading-to-hot-sex smut. Don’t know if this quite fits the bill, Ada, but if not I’ll make it up to you with the next fic. And if you like Ballsy!Jack, here’s his second appearance in one of my fics. Enjoy! (Title comes from an old film noir.)
Couldn't decide on just *one* Ballsy!Jack icon, so here are three. *kisses* to crystalkirk
Jack couldn’t remember anymore why he had come to Kate’s tent. Not after she thrust her tongue in his mouth and straddled him, practically giving him a lapdance as they kissed. A moan escaped his lips as she ground into him. She smiled, feeling the heat coming from his lap.
He focused on her mouth, her parted lips, and how she threw back her head now that their kiss had ended. The curve of her lip was so sensuous, the way her mouth opened wider with each pant, then almost closed, but still hung tantalizingly open. He put his hand to her face, edging his thumb into her mouth. She closed her lips around it, her eyes meeting his with a wicked glint as she sucked.
Then she leaned in again, this time pressing the length of her body against him, her breasts smashed flat against his chest. He put his hand on her shoulder, keeping her in place. She began nuzzling just under his chin, carefully nibbling around the string that held the key he always wore around his neck.
Wanting to taste her, he pulled her tank top aside and licked and bit at her shoulders, following the line of her collarbone. He stretched the top almost to tearing as his tongue dipped lower to the curve of her breast. She sat up abruptly, startling him.
“Ouch!” she exclaimed, putting a protective hand to her breast.
“What?” He asked, confused.
“The key,” she said, pouting slightly. “It doesn’t exactly feel great jabbing against my breast, you know.”
“Oh,” he said sheepishly, putting a hand up to the string, turning it around so that the key was now at the back of his neck. “OK?” he asked, leaning back towards her.
“Uh, no,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s not going to stay like that. Not if you move at all when you have sex.” She paused, as if choosing her words carefully, then said, “Why don’t you just take it off?”
“No, I can’t do that,” he said teasingly, moving back in for another kiss.
“Jack, I mean it. You have to take it off,” she said firmly, her hands moving in to untie it for him. There was a predatory gleam in her eyes he didn’t like.
He tensed and put his hand up to stop her. “You want me to take it off, Kate? Or do you just want me to give it to you?” His face had grown hard, distrustful.
“What?” she asked, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “You think I’m just making out with you to get the damn key?”
“Aren’t you?” he asked coldly.
“C’mon, Jack,” she laughed, trying to get him to laugh too. “Can’t you see how silly that would be? What am I going to do with the key? Or the guns?”
“I don’t know, Kate, you sure seemed anxious to get your hands on them before there was ever a reason to use them.” He had that wary look he sometimes got, like he was flinching in anticipation of being hit.
She laughed again, puffing the sound out in disbelief. “Wow. Are you serious?” As he continued to look at her blankly, her levity vanished. “I just didn’t want you to know about me OK?” she said defensively.
“Or about the man you killed?” His voice was harsh.
Now it was her turn to glare at him coldly, the hurt showing in her face. “You’re never going to let me forget about that, are you?” Her expression turned sorrowful as she held her hand out to his face. “Jack?” she asked hesitantly.
He turned his head away and pushed her off his lap roughly. “You have to earn trust, Kate. All you’ve ever done is lie to me.” He stalked out of her tent, not giving her another look.
“Jack!” she called after him, but he kept walking. He blew out a big breath and ran his hands over his head. He was still hard, still so achingly hard, and he had to cool off.
Somehow in the time since he had gone to see her this afternoon, the sun had set. It was night on the beach and fortunately, Jack didn’t run into anyone as he strode purposefully toward the water line.
He walked far past the signal fire, past all the tents, until he was truly alone. He stripped off his clothes and laid them in a neat pile and then waded in. He welcomed the shock of the water, although it was never as cold as he was expecting. He still sometimes forgot they were in the tropics.
The water didn’t have the effect of a cold shower he was seeking. Instead, it felt decadently warm as the waves lapped against him, not unlike a big, wet mouth. Damn, he was getting almost more aroused than when he’d waded in. He put a hand on his erection, halfheartedly starting to stroke. But he didn’t want to. Not really.
He was feeling too rotten to try to make himself feel good. He couldn’t trust her. Was that her fault or his? Had he made a terrible mistake? Was she really just after the key? He would never know now. He could have been making love to her this minute, feeling her beneath him, doing all the things he’d thought of doing with her since he’d first seen her the day of the crash.
She’d looked as dazed as all the rest of them, but when he asked for help, she’d smiled nervously and overcome her nausea at stitching up his wound. And she’d helped him. And joked with him. He still couldn’t reconcile that first impression of her as a scared woman whom he maybe needed to protect with the idea of her as a hardened killer.
He’d thought they made a real connection that first day. He scoffed at the word, remembering how she said she and Sawyer had the same thing. She really belonged with Sawyer. Someone else who knew what it was to lie and cheat and steal for a living. Or whatever it was that Sawyer did.
Jack felt a stab of jealousy thinking of Kate with Sawyer. He still wanted her. But he had looked into her eyes and he didn’t know her. She was a stranger, despite everything. He put his hand to his forehead, cradling his head, allowing himself to give into the building wave of sadness.
The surf was rising, but he didn’t want to move. He leaned into the coming wave, letting it lift him off his feet, only to put him back down gently on the sandy bottom.
He didn’t want to go back in. If only he could just be alone, just disappear and never see any of them again. Never see her again. But he didn’t have that option. He had to see her every day. Had to see her tomorrow and look for the hurt in her face that might that be there. That might be another lie even if it was there.
His chest ached. His dick ached for release, but he wasn’t going to give into it. He felt almost happy to deny himself that. What a good priest he would have made, he thought bitterly. And for the millionth time, he wondered how he had found himself here, in the middle of nowhere, asking himself who the hell he was and what he wanted. But these were thoughts he had had well before the crash.
Jack sighed and turned to wade back to the shore. He was discouraged rather than moved by the beauty of the tropical night around him, the sound and smell of the surf and the scent of whatever strange things bloomed in the jungle. They were stranded in paradise, but everyone had brought their own little hell with them. At that moment, he felt with absolute certainty that he would never be happy again. And then he pushed the thought down under a stern layer of practicality. It didn’t matter what he felt. It couldn’t be more irrelevant.
He must have gone into the ocean somewhere else and been tricked by the tide, because he didn’t see his pile of clothes anymore. He spent a good 20 minutes looking for them as it got progressively darker, before coming across a squarish area of the sand where his clothes had surely been. “Shit!” He wasn’t in the wrong place. Someone had taken them.
Before he had even come up with a working theory, he smelled cigarette smoke. “Sawyer,” he thought with a rush of anger, but he was careful not to say the name out loud.
It wasn’t hard to find the source of the smoke. He could see the tip of Sawyer’s cigarette glowing in the darkness. He crouched nearby, determining from Sawyer’s barely illuminated profile how he was sitting and the best way to approach him.
What was Sawyer doing out here anyway, Jack wondered. He had a sudden panicky thought that Sawyer had followed him from Kate’s tent. Jack flushed, wondering if anyone else knew he had been with Kate. Except they’d have the wrong idea about what had happened. But then again, it wasn't unusual for Sawyer to be sitting out alone on the beach. Probably just Jack’s bad luck he’d crossed paths with him tonight.
There wasn’t anyone else out here. Sawyer had to have taken his clothes. Maybe he’d make some ridiculous demand for them. Well, Jack wasn’t going to give him the chance.
He came at Sawyer from the side, knocking him off balance with a hard tackle. Sawyer only had time to yell, “Hey!” before he lay sprawled underneath him. He made a swift move to jab the ember-end of his cigarette into Jack’s face, but Jack was too quick for him. He pinned Sawyer’s wrist, extinguishing the cigarette in the damp sand.
“What the fuck?” Sawyer asked. “You the antismoking police or somethin?” His voice was thick with exasperation. “Damn it, that was one of my last cigarettes, you motherfucker.”
”Where are they, Sawyer?” Jack demanded, still holding Sawyer down firmly despite his struggles.
Sawyer exhaled sharply in disbelief. “Great. Hero’s looking for somethin’ else gone missin'. Well just because it’s missin’ doesn’t mean I took it, genius.”
“You’re the only one here, Sawyer,” Jack hissed in his face. “Just give me my clothes!”
Sawyer started to laugh. “Someone swiped your clothes while you were skinny dippin’?” Now that he had started to laugh, he didn’t stop until he was nearly out of breath. “Jesus, doc,” he finally managed to say. “You’re stark naked and on top of another man. You want to rethink the situation some? Like relax and let me the fuck up?”
“You didn’t take them?” Jack said flatly. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“Because no one ever does,” Sawyer sighed. “Look, I wouldn’t put it past me either. You’re just too fun to fuck with, doc. But it wasn’t me, honest. Scout’s honor,” he said.
It was too dark to see Sawyer’s expression, but Jack was sure he was smirking. That arrogant prick. It was the last straw. “Fine. Then I’ll just take yours,” he said in a tone that sounded amused and was anything but.
He released his hold on Sawyer’s wrist and and found the fly of Sawyer’s jeans. He started to undo the buttons with one hand, while keeping his other arm pressed firmly against Sawyer’s throat.
“Hey!” Sawyer yelped. His hands flew to prevent Jack’s attempt to get his pants off.
Jack’s arm pressed deeper against his Adam’s apple and he let up only when Sawyer started to choke. He swore and let up the pressure. Sawyer was up in a second, swinging hard. He connected with Jack’s chin and sent him flying backwards. He hit the sand with a dull thud and Sawyer was on him, still letting his fists fly.
Jack had one arm up to defend himself, but with the other hand he was working Sawyer’s jeans off his hips.
“Goddammit,” Sawyer swore, giving up his assault to hold onto his pants while he still could. “You can’t have my damn jeans!”
Jack lay back, panting. “All right. Just give me your boxers and we’ll call it even.”
“I don’t have boxers.”
“OK, briefs then.”
“Ain’t got those either. Just the jeans,” Sawyer said coolly and Jack could practically hear him clenching his jaw.
“Well then, too bad for you,” Jack said, undeterred. “You should have thought of that before you stole my clothes.”
“I didn’t steal your damn clothes,” Sawyer yelled, but Jack, drawing on a move from his days on the wrestling team, had flipped him hard on his back. Stunned and out of breath, Sawyer lost a few precious seconds against Jack’s determined appropriation of his pants because the next thing he knew his jeans were down around his knees.
Sawyer flailed at Jack, with the result that Jack fell on top of him, and they had the shock of flesh meeting flesh, cock rubbing against cock as they fought.
Remembering a few other wrestling moves, Jack grabbed Sawyer’s cock and pulled.
Sawyer yelped again. “You wanna play dirty?” he growled, and his hand closed around Jack’s suddenly hard dick.
Jack didn’t know at what point he stopped fighting Sawyer and started stroking him. He had already done the sensible thing once tonight, and now he ignored the warning flashing through his brain as he heard Sawyer’s sharp intake of breath.
“What is this?” Sawyer gasped out, but he wasn’t fighting him.
“I don’t like you, Sawyer,” Jack said, his voice as ragged as his breathing. With his free hand, he pulled at the buttons on Sawyer’s shirt, tearing more than a few off. “I’ve never liked you.”
“You have a funny way of showing it,” Sawyer replied, his own voice low and raspy. He shrugged off his shirt and his hand clenched around Jack’s dick, starting to match the rhythm Jack was setting.
“I hate you,” Jack gasped as Sawyer’s thumb circled the tip of his cock. “I fucking hate you." He started to thrust his hips against Sawyer’s hand and to let their bodies slide together. He was flooded with the feel of Sawyer. The man was just raw sex. He felt so firm and hard beneath him, so rough and hot that Jack thought he could never get enough.
Sawyer’s hand pulled at the string around Jack's neck, slipping in underneath so that it was almost choking him. Then his hand moved to the key itself as he clutched at it, caressing its rough edges as hard as he was stroking Jack.
“I hate you. You. Fucking. Jackass,” Sawyer grunted in breathy bursts. Jack felt Sawyer’s whole body tense under him and then go completely limp as he came hotly in his hand, pulling hard on the string around Jack's neck before releasing his grip.
Sawyer’s groan as he came was so intensely erotic that, coupled with the sharp pain from the string cutting into his neck, it had Jack teetering on the edge himself. Sawyer’s hand had slackened as he gave into his own pleasure, and now Jack closed his hand over Sawyer’s, urging him to keep going. He sought Sawyer’s mouth with his own, needing that connection, needing to feel something more. He choked on the taste of nicotine, but he didn’t want to stop.
Sawyer kissed him back hungrily, lazily, and Jack gave himself up utterly to the sensation, the scrape of Sawyer’s beard, the roughness of his tongue, the little moan he made in the back of his throat.
“Fuck!” Jack bit back the word as the orgasm overtook him, reducing the entire universe to just his cock and Sawyer’s hand and Sawyer’s mouth.
He fell heavily on top of him, their hands still clasped together. He rolled to the side and let the rest of the world slowly drift back into existence.
A world that included Sawyer lying naked next to him. Jesus. He had just gotten off with Sawyer. How twisted was that? It was just because he was so angry, he was starting to tell himself. They hated each other. This wasn’t even sex. It was something else. What exactly, he didn’t know.
“Well, that was a hell of a convincer, but you still can’t have my jeans,” Sawyer said finally. He sounded amused but remarkably free of hostility.
“Yeah. OK,” Jack said, trying to stem the tide of remorse washing over him. Sawyer had stood up and was pulling on his pants.
“The shirt’s on the long side,” Sawyer said, holding it out to Jack. “It’s either that or getting a big-ass leaf from the jungle.”
Jack took the shirt, wishing he could see Sawyer’s face more clearly. “Adam and Eve, huh?” he said, thinking of running around in only a fig leaf.
“I ain’t your fuckin’ Eve,” Sawyer grunted.
“I never said you were,” Jack said, his voice guarded.
“Yeah, well, it’s been a pleasure,” Sawyer said as he walked off, and Jack knew there was a smirk behind the words.
“Listen, Sawyer!” Jack called, running after him. “Don’t you have any other pants you can loan me? I don’t want to go all the way back to the caves like this.”
He heard a long, exasperated sigh. “Fine. But I don’t know if they’ll fit. You’re a little thicker around the waist than me, ain’t ya?”
“Sawyer!” Jack said in consternation. “Well, maybe.”
They walked off together, not talking.
Behind the bushes, some distance away, Kate finally let out the enormous breath she’d been holding. Her thighs were still shaky from kneeling for so long and from the six or so orgasms she’d given herself while listening to Jack and Sawyer fuck. She wasn’t sure if she meant to trade Jack’s clothes for the key or to just get back at him. But now maybe she had something else he’d be willing to trade for.