Pairing: Jack/Sawyer, references to Jack/Sarah
Summary: The wrong escort shows up at Jack's hotel room
Note: For foxxcub, who gave me this plot bunny ages ago! *mwah!* After *not* seeing the shattered Jack we were all expecting in "Stranger in a Strange Land," it felt like the perfect time to write this. This is set right after the pre-island events of "A Tale of Two Cities." Mega thanks to zelda_zee for the fantastic beta, which made this so much better. Using for fanfic100 claim "Hours."
Almost immediately after he made the call, Jack thought better of it. He reached for the phone again, but his hand just hovered over the receiver. Maybe it was too late anyway. He’d already given them his credit card number.
He drew his hand back and let his head drop into it, staring at the phone. That little Jack Daniels-enabled part of his brain that had him call an escort service in the first place told him this was just what he needed.
It’s not like anyone else would ever see his monthly statement now. It’s not like anyone would ever know. And that’s why he was here, in this anonymous hotel, because he just couldn’t bear that empty house or that empty bed.
“Yes, uh, I’d like some company,” Jack had stammered into the phone. “A blonde.” He’d given the hotel address and room number. And like that, the call was made. His hands were shaky as he hung up the phone. This wasn’t that different than going to a bar and picking up the first blonde who let him buy her a drink.
At least then he’d know what she looked like. Blind fate was sending him some woman and all he knew about her was that she was blonde. And that, as if fate wanted to twist the knife just a little more, her name was Sarah. At least that’s what he thought the woman said about who she was sending. He couldn’t be sure with that strong accent. Maybe it was Sherry. Or Sharon. Or Shannon.
He laid back and tried to imagine what she’d look like. What it would be like for a total stranger to come in and touch him. Kiss him. Undress him. Let him do whatever he wanted with her. Things Sarah never seemed interested in, maybe. No. He wasn’t going to think of her. Wasn’t going to picture her when he was coming inside a hooker.
He closed his eyes, enjoying the long-absent sense of well-being flowing through him from the bottle he’d killed. He forbade himself from picturing his wife’s face, that bitter look of disappointment she kept for him and that little smile she only had for her new lover when she’d talked to him on the phone right in front of Jack.
His fists clenched and he forced himself to relax. He concentrated instead on what the stranger’s mouth would do, where she would touch him. He imagined she was already running her hands along his thigh, pulling at his belt, settling on top of him, letting him feel that she had no panties on under her short skirt, how wet she was for him. God. He was hard already. He hoped he’d last until she got here. It had been so long since he’d been this drunk. And even longer, he thought, since he’d had sex. He tried to remember the last time with Sarah and couldn’t.
Not thinking about her, he reminded himself. He ran his hands over the slick material of his slacks, trying to keep his mind focused, his body ready. He willed his mind to go blank, to stop offering up images of Sarah’s head on the pillow next to his, Sarah, the last thing he saw when he went to sleep and the first thing he saw when he woke up.
He had no idea how much time had passed when the knock came. It seemed too soon to be her. He jumped off the bed too quickly and was hit with a wave of dizziness. This was embarrassing. If he couldn’t make it to the door, God knows he wasn’t going to be up for sex.
He had a moment’s panic remembering the woman on the phone’s accent. What if she wasn’t a real blonde, but just wearing a cheap, blonde wig? He looked out the peephole before he opened the door.
There was a blonde standing outside, sure enough, and the hair looked just like he liked, fine and soft and made for running your hands through. But the person on the other side of his door was a man. There was no mistake. He had stubble for God’s sake.
Fuck. Jack turned his back to the door and sagged into it. That was definitely no Sarah or Sherry.
The guy looked just like what a male hustler would look like, Jack guessed, ridiculously handsome and well-groomed, wearing a short leather jacket and tight jeans, with his shirt half-opened. His chest was bare, probably waxed or something. Maybe waxed all over. Jack turned around for another look. What the hell was he going to do?
“Hey,” the man said with a dazzling grin that revealed deep-set dimples. He clearly realized Jack was on the other side of the door, but if he was puzzled why Jack wasn’t opening up, he wasn’t showing it. “You called? I’m here.”
“I’m ... there’s a mistake,” Jack choked into the crack of the door. “I didn’t ask for ... I asked for a woman.”
“Oh!” There was a pause. “Well, let me in and I’ll call and tell ‘em there’s a mix-up.”
“No.” Jack was not about to let a strange man into his hotel room. He knew this was a bad idea. He knew it.
“Hey, buddy. One quick call and I’m outta your hair.” Jack took another peek. The man wasn’t smiling anymore, but he didn’t look as upset as Jack would be if he were in his shoes and had just been told he’d showed up for nothing. He radiated a kind of calm that Jack sorely envied.
When Jack didn’t answer, he saw a flicker of annoyance cross the man’s face. “Look. I’m guessin’ you don’t want me standin’ out here any more ‘n I want to be standin’ out here. Just one call, okay?”
He hadn’t really noticed the stranger’s Southern accent until now. He guessed that it came out stronger when he was irritated. The man ran his hands through his hair and sighed. He fixed a pair of disarmingly deep blue eyes straight at the peephole, as if he could see straight through to Jack on the other side. “C’mon, man.”
“Don’t you have a cell phone?”
“Nope, just a pager.”
“Okay, one call.” Jack sighed and opened the door. He still blocked it with his body but when the man stepped inside, he backed away.
“They told me your name was Sarah,” Jack huffed.
“Nah. It’s Sawyer,” the stranger said with an easy grin as he looked Jack up and down. “Guess it kinda sounds the same.”
“Yeah. At least you’re blonde,” Jack said and somehow he was laughing. The situation really was absurd. And God he was drunk. His hands had that weird, rubbery feeling like they didn’t even belong to him anymore.
“Yeah, and a real one,” Sawyer chuckled in return. “Though I guess you don’t care to find out.”
“Ahhh, no,” Jack said with an exaggerated grimace of a grin.
“Shame,” Sawyer said in that husky drawl as he walked right past the phone and over to the nearest bed. He flopped onto the mattress, his long legs sprawling out as he leaned back so that his crotch was deliberately on display. “’Cuz I always give folks their money’s worth.” He didn’t quite lick his lips but he might as well have.
Jack must have been even drunker than he’d realized because the thought of those lips on his cock made him hard again. He let himself imagine it for a second ... grabbing hold of that blonde hair and thrusting into that willing mouth... and then he came to his senses.
“I thought you were here to use the phone,” Jack said coldly.
“Whatever you want,” Sawyer replied with a shrug, that annoying sexual connotation informing every word he uttered. He didn’t move.
“Here, I’ll dial,” Jack said, grabbing the phone. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of that himself. There was no reason for him to have even let this hustler in, and now that he was here he wasn’t going to be easy to get rid of.
Jack discovered to his annoyance that there was no “redial” on the hotel phone, so he had to hang up and pull out the Yellow Pages again. Which were in the night stand between the beds.
Sawyer was still sprawled on the bed and he watched with great interest as Jack crossed the room unsteadily. “It’s a shock, I know. Not what you were expectin’.”
Jack just ignored him and paged angrily through the phone book.
Sawyer kept talking, that smooth, Southern voice filling the room like cigarette smoke. “But, I’m here now. And just about anything a chick can do for you, I can do.”
An unwelcome twinge of arousal spiked again in Jack. He sat down on the other bed, trying to concentrate on finding that elusive listing. He suddenly craved a smoke.
“You want me to suck your cock? I can do that.” Sawyer’s voice had dropped an octave. “Get you harder ‘n you’ve ever been. Take you deep, deeper ‘n anyone can. I’d start off real slow, flick my tongue over your head, just taste you first...”
Jack squirmed uncomfortably, trying not to listen to the stream of dirty images that Sawyer was serving up. “Shut up,” he snapped. “I’m going to make this call and then you’re going to leave.”
“Or maybe you wanna fuck me?” Jack’s head shot up at that one. Sawyer was lying on his side now, head resting on one arm as he ran his hand over his bare chest. The hand slipped under the shirt, starting to toy with one nipple until Jack could see both of them, dark and hard under Sawyer’s shirt.
“Bet you like it a little rough,” Sawyer continued, no longer smiling as he stared intently at Jack. “Maybe no one else would let you do that stuff before. But me? Hell, I like it. The rougher, the better.”
Jack closed his eyes. No one had ever talked to him like that and fuck he was hard. It would be so easy. It wouldn’t matter, really, who got him off. If he’d been ready to have some strange woman go down on him, how different would a strange man be?
He jumped when he felt Sawyer’s hand on his thigh. Just like he’d imagined, lying there in this empty room, he was being touched, caressed by a stranger who was only here to give him pleasure. Someone who would do whatever Jack wanted.
He didn’t resist when Sawyer took the phone book out of his hands and put it aside. He kept his eyes closed as Sawyer cupped his crotch. The heat from his palm was surely enough to make him come, right there.
The sound of the zipper brought him to his senses. He was not going to do this.
“No!” He meant to shout but it came out as a whimper. “I don’t want this. Just go.” It came out as a plea instead of an order as Sawyer’s fingers wrapped around his cock. “I’ll pay you... just, please ... just go.”
“Don’t think that’s what you really want,” Sawyer said, husky and low. Even the man’s voice dripped sex. He pushed Jack’s legs apart and started to slide his slacks down and then he was tugging off his briefs and Jack let him. Dear God, he let him.
Jack was lying back, giving in, and the shame he felt was immediately forgotten in the rush of blood to his cock as Sawyer took a firm hold of him with one hand and his warm, wet tongue swept over the head in one smooth stroke. Sawyer gave a satisfied little groan and Jack was helpless at the sound. Just like he promised, he was tasting Jack. The vibration of his groan made it that much more intensely pleasurable, to know that that Sawyer was enjoying his work this much.
He gasped out loud when Sawyer took him in his mouth. The sensation as he started to suck was too much, so damn good that tears actually came to Jack’s eyes. “Fuck,” he cried out, reaching for Sawyer’s head. He struggled to sit back up because it had suddenly become important to watch this stranger swallow him, watch his cheeks hollow out and his eyelashes, dark against his cheeks as he concentrated on his task. “Oh,” Jack gasped, more embarrassed that he couldn’t stop exclaiming stupid things than about anything else. He didn’t talk during sex -- but it was just the whiskey and those things Sawyer was doing with his tongue, and suddenly he couldn’t help himself.
Jack's hands twined in Sawyer’s hair, just like he’d pictured when he’d first turned those seductive baby blue eyes on him. He didn’t need to guide Sawyer, because, fuck, the man knew exactly what he was doing, but he needed to touch him. Needed that tactile sensation of running his hands through that hair, tugging at it hard now, reacting as each wave of arousal built on the last one.
“I’m... God, I’m so close.”
Sawyer stopped, letting Jack’s cock slip out of his mouth. “How you wanna come?” he asked, a little breathless.
“I’m just ... just don’t stop,” Jack begged, his brain shutting down at the idea of having to make a choice.
With a low chuckle, Sawyer swallowed him again. Reentering the sweet, warm cavern of his mouth was like coming home. Sawyer, with an expert touch, squeezed firmly at the base of the shaft and Jack arched up off the bed, his hips jerking as he emptied himself into Sawyer’s mouth. The room spun hard, once, and then righted itself.
He felt completely drained. The cold realization that he’d just let a male hustler suck him off cut right through the lingering warm haze of his orgasm.
He wanted to simply lie there and close his eyes while the man left. He didn’t want to face him. But just as strong came the urge to touch him, convince him to stay.
The second one won out. Jack opened his eyes to see Sawyer wiping his mouth. He smiled at Jack, a lazy, sated smile and Jack was so glad to see that he hadn’t turned off the charm yet.
“You’d do whatever I want?” he found himself asking.
“Sure,” Sawyer said, that lazy grin spreading wider. “What else you got in mind?”
“Just ... stay a little longer.”
Sawyer raised an eyebrow in surprise, but he covered any confusion with another smile. “Whatever you like. You’re the boss.”
“Okay, good.” Jack just lay there, not at all sure what he wanted to happen next.
Fortunately, fate had sent him a complete pro, one who must be used to dealing with people who had no idea how to voice their deepest desires. Sawyer stretched out next to him, propping up his head on one hand. He casually reached for Jack’s shirt, toying with the buttons and slipping his hand inside, the same as he had with his own, but Jack wasn’t sure if this was more come-on or comfort.
“Glad you didn’t send me away,” Sawyer said, eyes narrowing for emphasis. “Knew I could be good to you.”
Jack didn’t want to look away, mesmerized by those clear eyes that seemed to fade in and out of focus. Sawyer’s touch was as soothing as his honeyed voice and Jack let himself drift, aware of only those two things.
“If you want, you can still fuck me,” Sawyer said, and Jack’s spent cock throbbed at the thought. “I’d like that. Big, fucking handsome guy built like you? You could ride me hard as you want, deep as you want, and I’d come all over your stomach. You wanna make me come, babe?”
”Yes.” Jack said it and realized he did. He wanted to see those blue eyes blown wide with desire. He should be panicking at the thought, but he wanted this. “What do I do?” he asked and Sawyer gave him a crooked grin.
“Ah, sugar, you just let me show you. Hang on.” He jumped off the bed and rummaged in his jacket pocket. He came back with a condom and a small packet that looked like the soy sauce you get with takeout. “Lube,” he explained, tossing it onto the bed.
“Oh,” Jack said and he picked it up, wondering if he should open it up or leave that to Sawyer.
“Hang on,” Sawyer said as he pulled his shirt over his head. Whether by nature or artifice, his chest and abdomen were completely smooth, except for a dark patch of hair below his navel that disappeared into his low-rise jeans. Dark, but still blonde. He hadn’t been lying.
Sawyer stood on one leg as he shucked off a cowboy boot -- Jack hadn’t even noticed he’d been serviced by a cowboy until now -- and then the other. He unbuckled his jeans and stepped out of them in one smooth move. Jack wasn’t surprised that he wore no underwear.
Sawyer moved towards the bed. His cock was stiffening before Jack’s eyes. Noting Jack’s gaze, Sawyer played one hand over himself. “You wanna watch me first?” he asked in that same husky tone.
Jack swallowed. “I don’t think ... “
“No? Okay, then, Papa, I’ll save myself for you.” Sawyer leaned into the bed, resting one knee on it as he displayed his fully erect cock for Jack to appreciate.
Jack swallowed hard. He had a momentary urge to flee, but then Sawyer’s hand was on his dick and he found himself giving in again.
“You’re gonna fuck me so hard,” Sawyer purred. He kept talking, kept promising and teasing Jack as he coaxed Jack’s cock into stiffness. Jack had never let someone else take charge like this and it crossed his mind that maybe Sawyer should be fucking him. But Sawyer was already easing the condom on him and fuck, yes, he wanted this. Sawyer tore open the packet of lube, spreading it slowly and deliberately over his length. Jack was ready. He got up on his knees, swaying slightly.
“You want me on my back, or...?”
“Yeah, that’s good,” Jack said, power surging through at the intensely erotic sight of Sawyer lying back and spreading his legs for him.
“C’mere,” Sawyer said, shifting his hips in anticipation. One hand was on his own cock, stroking it lightly, thumb rubbing over the tip in a way that made Jack bite his lip. With his other hand he reached for Jack.
“Wait.” Jack squeezed out the last of the lube, hesitating only a moment before dabbing it around the edges of Sawyer’s opening. Sawyer arched up into his touch, his eyes never leaving Jack’s face. Breathe, Jack reminded himself.
Cock in hand, Jack lowered himself onto Sawyer, who drew up both legs, hooking them around Jack’s back. Jack pushed against Sawyer’s entrance, pausing until he got a nod from Sawyer before he thrust inside. God. He couldn't remember anything this good, this fucking good. He was still processing the sensation when Sawyer gripped him hard from all sides, pulling him in deeper.
Jack tried to cry out but his throat was too tight. Too much, he thought, followed instantly by not enough. He braced himself on his arms, drawing away from Sawyer as he moved, trying not to let the intense pleasure overwhelm him so soon. His lungs burned and he gulped in air. He’d been holding his breath, trying to stop this from being over in one blinding rush. Hold on, he told himself, but Sawyer wouldn’t let him stay still. He urged Jack on, gripping his ass, wrapping his legs tighter around him. “C’mon,” he muttered in that breathy drawl that was almost a growl now. “C’mon.”
Sawyer’s eyes were dark and wide, his hands moving from Jack’s ass to his own cock, pumping it furiously. Sawyer’s head fell back on the pillow, his mouth open and panting, and then his whole body convulsed under Jack, around Jack and his moan of completion was as shattering as the way his body shook.
“Ohmygod.” Jack exhaled the word in one long breath and then he couldn’t stop it anymore. He couldn’t stop time, he couldn’t stop Sarah from leaving, he couldn’t stop anything, so he just let it wash over him. Like watching a crash in slow motion, he let the world go black, let it swallow him up and suck him down and stop his heart.
He came with a sob wrenched from deep within him. He lay, spent, on Sawyer’s chest and when he drew breath, it turned into more sobs. He was crying now and there was nothing he could do to stop.
“Hey. Hey there.” He was dimly aware that Sawyer was talking to him, that he was stroking his hair, but right now Sawyer might as well not have existed. Jack cried until he couldn’t cry anymore. He felt so heavy; he couldn’t move if he tried.
The soft brush of a hand on his cheek startled him. Jack found himself leaning into the unexpectedly gentle touch and he choked out a fresh sob. To find comfort from such an unlikely source was more than he could bear right now. He was too raw, too drunk, too spent to fight this kind of invasion of sympathy.
He dared to look at Sawyer and saw only genuine concern under that furrowed brow. Sarah hadn’t looked at him like that in years. His own wife looked at him with disgust and this stranger looked at him with sympathy. And before that, Jack was sure he saw real desire there. This stranger wanted him. He knew it was just because he was paying the man, but if he didn’t think about it too hard he could pretend it was real.
“I’m sorry,” he managed between sobs. “I’m drunk. I’m a mess."
“I’ve seen worse,” Sawyer said quietly. “You want me to go?”
“No,” Jack said, reaching out for him blindly, finding a firm bicep and not letting go. “I don’t want to be alone.”
“Okay, sugar,” Sawyer said softly, patting Jack’s arm. After a beat, he added, “But I gotta make a call. I got other appointments...”
“Sure, sure.” More than anything, Jack didn’t want him to talk money. He didn’t want Sawyer to say it would cost extra. He wanted to pretend, just for a few hours, that he didn’t have to pay a stranger to stay with him. He said the words in a rush, so that Sawyer wouldn’t. “I’ll pay more. Whatever it costs.”
He reluctantly rolled to the side, missing Sawyer's warmth already as he made his way over to the phone. Sawyer made the call, talking so low Jack couldn’t make out what he was saying, except that he was really staying.
Sawyer climbed back into bed and drew the covers over them both. He pulled Jack on top of him, laying his head on his smooth chest. Jack could hear Sawyer's heart beating.
"So who you tryin' to forget?"
"My wife." The phrase sounded dull, empty. It didn't mean anything anymore. "She left me."
Sawyer didn't say anything for the longest time. He simply kept stroking Jack's hair in the most comforting way. “Well, her loss, I'd say.”
The words shouldn’t have meant anything, but Jack was reassured, just the same.
He knew Sawyer would be gone when he woke up. He knew that this didn’t solve anything and that he’d look back on tonight with the deepest shame.
It was the drink. That’s all. Just the whiskey that made this cowboy with the killer blue eyes and heavenly mouth seem like his own personal angel, keeping the demons at bay for one night. Right now, in the seconds before he fell asleep, he was glad for the mix-up, glad they’d sent such a complete pro, one who could make a man feel like he wasn’t even paying for it.
The tension left Jack’s body. He let himself be rocked against Sawyer’s body, let himself go limp and all too easily sink into the illusion that everything was okay.
In the morning, he woke up half-naked and with the worst hangover of his life. And alone.
The first thing he did, after drinking all the melted ice in the bucket and then throwing it up and taking a 30-minute shower, was to check his wallet. The cash was missing but the cards were still there.
The next thing he did was find that ad again and when he did his mouth fell open. Sure, the layout was confusing, with the photos from the ad above it looking like they went with the number he called. But the mix-up was his alone. He’d called a male escort service.
He stared at the ad for a few more minutes and then he tore out the page and shoved it where the money used to be in his wallet.