Pairing: Jack/Sawyer (this chapter)
Summary: Jack confronts Sawyer: Is he the one behind the sabotage on the show?
Note: This chapter was very stubborn and just didn't want to be written, hence the delay. I hope you all don't mind that this has gone from a crack!fic to straight-up angsty porn with this chapter. Crack for porn = an okay trade? A very big thank you to zelda_zee for a rockin' beta and to everyone who's been reading the whole series and who's asked me to please continue!
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6
Jack glanced at his watch again. It was twenty minutes after nine and it was starting to look like Sawyer wasn’t coming. He was anxious to get this over with, get everything out into the open. He had everything ready, he just needed Sawyer to fucking get here already.
Truth be told, he was kind of spoiling for a fight. This mess had been brewing for days, robbing him of sleep and making him completely miserable.
It wasn’t his fault, he thought, rubbing at the spot between his eyebrows, trying to massage some of the tension away. He’d been lied to and manipulated and he didn’t know who to trust anymore. He felt like a boxer at the end of a fight, punch-drunk and not caring if he won or lost, as long as it was over.
He heard the crunch of tires in the driveway and glanced up to see headlights rake the ceiling. Finally.
Jack steeled himself to wait for the sound of the doorbell. He took a deep breath and blew it all the way out before forcing a smile and opening the door to Sawyer.
"Hey!" Sawyer’s face lit up when he saw Jack. “Man, sorry I’m late. Got kinda turned around there. Damn Mapquest told me to go right back there when I should’ve turned ... well, never mind," he broke off, laughing at Jack, who was standing stiffly in the door. “So, you gonna let me in or what?"
“Right. Of course," Jack ducked his head, echoing Sawyer’s laugh. He’d been running over what he was going to say, but at the sight of Sawyer -- just as disarmingly friendly as Jack remembered him with that warm grin and those sly dimples -- it all nearly went out of his head.
“Glad you finally found the place," Jack nodded and waved him in.
Sawyer strolled inside, taking a turn around the living room. “Nice," he said in that smooth drawl of his. “Simple yet..."
“Sterile," Jack finished for him. “I know." He felt overdressed in a suit and button-up shirt while Sawyer was so casual in leather jacket, tight Tee and well-worn jeans.
“Now I wasn’t gonna say that," Sawyer chided him. He tilted his head, looking at Jack. “Them women been runnin’ you ragged, Doc?" He held up the bottle of Bushmills whiskey he’d brought. “Figured you could use a drink."
Jack snorted. “Yeah, because I never get a drink during filming. I swear this show is going to turn me into an alcoholic."
Sawyer nodded, as if taking private counsel with himself. “Ohhhkay, then, Doc. No drink for you." He set the bottle on the end table and sank onto the couch like he owned it, legs spread wide and arms going to rest along the back. “’Cept that’s why I thought we were havin’ this little get-together."
"Yeah, sure," Jack said hastily, revising his plan on the fly. “Would you mind getting some glasses from the kitchen? And some ice?"
Sawyer got to his feet, nodding his approval. “Now you’re talkin’. Just point the way." Jack gestured past the dining room and Sawyer headed towards the kitchen with that maddening slow stroll of his.
Jack turned on the TV and the DVD player, his finger hovering over the PLAY button.
“Hey, Doc," Sawyer shouted from the kitchen. “I have to say, I’m not very impressed with this here bachelor pad of yours. No wet bar?"
"Sorry," Jack yelled back. That would have coaxed a grin out of him, if he weren’t furious with Sawyer. “No Jacuzzi either."
“Tsk, tsk," Sawyer smiled, reappearing with two full highball glasses. “No wonder you had to go on a dating show."
"Yeah," Jack said absentmindedly as he started the DVD. He took the drink Sawyer offered him, watching Sawyer’s reaction over the rim as he sipped.
“What’s this? Porn?!" Sawyer laughed appreciatively as he sprawled on the couch to Jack’s left. “Well now, the evening just ... Shit." His face fell. “Is that Kate?"
Sawyer covered his hand with his mouth, just like Jack had. “And Cassidy? Oh... Christ. Fuck, Doc..." there was an odd rasp in Sawyer’s voice. “Where the hell did you get this?"
“You’re telling me you don’t know?" Jack did his best to control the anger in his voice, but Sawyer heard it just the same. He turned to look at Jack, suspicion dawning.
“Not a fuckin’ clue," Sawyer said stiffly, eyes narrowing. He had the gall to act pissed-off. “What the fuck is this?"
"See that?" Jack rewound the DVD and paused. “Blue paint. In her hair. This is the day of the paintball fight. The same day you offered to show me this very footage."
“You think I sent this to you? Why the fuck would I do that?"
“So you’re not denying it?"
"Damn straight I’m denyin’ it, cuz it wasn’t me." Sawyer’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. He gave Jack a quizzical half smile, as if those dazzling dimples of his could ward off further questions, as if this were all just some kind of honest misunderstanding.
Jack had anticipated this. Of course Sawyer would pretend to be innocent. It just made him even angrier. He realized his hands were clenched. He didn’t want this to get physical, not yet anyway. He blew out a breath and flexed his fingers, strying to stay calm. “Sawyer, there’s no point in lying. I just want to know why."
“I ain’t lyin’!" Sawyer sprang to his feet and took a few steps away from the couch. He was the personification of indignation as he ran his hand through his hair. “Shit, Jack, I thought you knew me better ‘n’ that."
Adrenaline spiked in Jack, a rush of heat under his skin at finally pushing Sawyer to react. His stricken expression just spurred Jack on. “Do I?" he yelled. “Who else knew about this video?" He gestured angrily toward the paused image onscreen. "Who else mentioned it to me? Who else knows where I live? Who else can send me a package with ABC letterhead? Come on!"
Jack leaned forward, weight shifting onto the balls of his feet, thighs tensed, ready to answer any challenge. Sawyer’s mouth hung open slightly, like he was gathering as much breath as he could before Jack sprang on him.
In the suspended moment in which he considered throwing the first punch, Jack realized he’d lose if it came to blows. Sawyer’s stance, his clenched hands, betrayed just how ready he was to fight, how used he was to having to fight.
Jack meant to look away in a second, break this heated glare they were locked in before anything happened. He didn’t really want to fight, not with his fists anyway. But it was Sawyer who looked away first.
“Shit." Sawyer’s face disappeared behind a fringe of blonde hair as he dropped his head. “I only mentioned it because I thought ... well, I knew it would make you blush. I knew that wasn’t your thing." He had the gall to laugh, even if it was a choked-off sorry-sounding laugh.
“So you knew there was a camera there!" Jack exclaimed with an air of triumph. He was getting somewhere at last.
“No!" The word sounded loud and insistent as Sawyer raised his chin, the hair falling back to reveal eyes bright but focused on him in a way that declared he had nothing to hide. “One of the guys on the crew told me he’d put a camera in there. I thought he was jokin’, Jack. I swear to God."
Jack wondered why Sawyer’s acting career had never taken off if he was this good, conveying wounded pride and raw vulnerability all at the same time. Jack had to admit that he was damned convincing, but he was having none of it.
"And you thought you’d pass the joke onto me?"
“Yeah," Sawyer heaved a sigh that was held the traces of another rueful little laugh. “Some joke. If I knew it was really there... shit, Jack, you think I wouldn’t have said something to someone?" He stared at Jack as if he had accused him of corrupting a group of Catholic school girls.
Jack didn’t answer. He was torn between trying to wear Sawyer down and get him to admit the whole thing, and just telling him to get the fuck out of his house already.
“Look," Sawyer started pacing the room, left hand still riffling through his hair like it was helping him think. “I know it’s a helluva coincidence, but that’s all it is. Fuck. I like Kate. Why would I want to set you against her?"
“You tell me."
“I didn’t even know where you lived before now," Sawyer threw his arms wide, gesturing to include Jack’s whole house, “so how could I mail it to you, then?"
“Sawyer." Jack spoke slowly and patiently, as one would to a child." You got my phone number. You could have gotten my address too."
“Well, hell, anyone connected with the show could have gotten that, you’re right," Sawyer admitted. He started to pace again. “What about Kate’s mug shot? You know that wasn’t me, right?" Sawyer paused, fixing Jack with a wounded stare.
Jack shrugged, shaking his head.
“I was in bed!"
“So you had someone helping you."
“I got nothin’ to gain by this," Sawyer shouted, thoroughly exasperated by now. “Use your head. Who does?"
“I don’t know," Jack said stubbornly, refusing to be drawn down that path.
“Okay, let’s run it down," Sawyer was talking faster now, matching his sped-up stride as he circled the living room. “Who’s got a stake in seein’ Kate get booted? One of the other women, right? I wouldn’t put it past Juliet. Or maybe Shannon."
“You don’t know that," Jack said in a low, warning tone.
“I’m not done," Sawyer said, holding up a hand as he continued to pace. “The producers were pushin’ Juliet awful hard since the beginnin’. It’s gotta be someone connected to the show. Someone who cares about the final outcome. Well, maybe they just want to make sure you pick the right pony."
“Maybe..." A seed of doubt was growing in Jack’s mind. What Sawyer was saying was starting to make sense.
“Or maybe someone’s got an ax to grind with Kate? Like Ana?" Sawyer nodded, warming to the idea. “No love lost there. She mighta known about Kate and Cassidy, wanted to make sure you knew too."
“I suppose..." Jack’s head hurt. He rubbed the spot between his eyes again. He hadn’t considered any other possibility but the one that had seemed the most obvious. It wasn’t Sawyer. The idea caught and held. “It could be Juliet," he said quietly.
Sawyer was standing very still, watching him intently. “Yeah?" he prompted when Jack didn’t immediately continue.
“She seems to know all about me," Jack went on, feeling smaller and smaller as Sawyer just kept staring at him. “What my tattoos mean... everything I like. I don’t know. Maybe she’s having help with that?" His hands lay loosely in his lap and he clasped them together, needing suddenly to do something with them. He brought his hands up, his thumbs pressed against his lower lip, unwittingly assuming a prayerful pose.
Sawyer cocked one eyebrow. “Well, that’s what I’ve been tryin’ to tell ya, dummy."
He grinned at Jack, that wolfish, half-teasing grin that always made Jack catch his breath just a little.
Jack ducked his head, starting to laugh. He didn’t know how he could have been so wrong about Sawyer, but it all seemed crystal clear now. The rush of relief he felt was so overwhelming he couldn’t talk. He was aware that his laugh had turned into a kind of choking and suddenly Sawyer was at his side, pounding him on the back.
“Hey, you okay there?"
"Fine," Jack insisted, painfully conscious of Sawyer’s nearness. He was sensitized to the way Sawyer smelled (freshly showered with just a hint of cologne and musk), of the sound his leather jacket made as it brushed against the back of the couch, but mostly he was aware of how Sawyer’s hand lingered on his shoulder, squeezing just a little in a way that was meant to be reassuring but that was having the opposite effect.
Jack shrugged the hand off, tenser than ever. “Yeah." He let out a short laugh, still not trusting himself to look at Sawyer. “I drag you over here, call you a liar, accuse you of all kinds of shit and you want to know how I’m doing."
Sawyer’s chuckle had never sounded more welcome. “Hey, honest mistake. Could happen to anyone."
“Really? You’re not mad?" Jack looked up to find Sawyer staring at him with one raised eyebrow and shaking his head.
“Shit, Jack, they put you through the wringer over this. I get it. And I don’t have the heart to beat you up when you’re doin’ such a bang-up job of it yourself."
“I ... I just ... Sawyer, I’m sorry. I don’t how I could have been so wrong."
Sawyer leaned forward, hand resting companionably on Jack’s shoulder. “Hey, forget it. We’ll find out who’s behind this. And we’ll make them pay."
Jack nodded, trying not to read too much into how Sawyer said “we."
He didn’t know how Sawyer managed to seem completely serious despite that warm smile -- maybe it was some kind of acting trick, but he knew Sawyer wasn’t acting. The humor and fondness in those blue eyes that were fixed so intently on him were real, he knew that. He didn’t know he could have ever doubted it.
The air in the room seemed to still and Jack found he was holding his breath because, unless he was wrong about this and he was probably really, really wrong, Sawyer was just about to lean over and kiss him.
He was sure Sawyer could hear his heart pounding against his ribcage and he waited for the inevitable, but somehow, the moment passed.
One second Sawyer was reaching out and squeezing his shoulder and then he had turned around and grabbed his long-forgotten drink off the side table. Sawyer downed what was left of it and wiped his mouth. He gestured towards the paused image of Kate and Cassidy on the screen. “So, you watch the rest of this? Is it hot?"
"No. I mean, yeah, I guess."
Jack watched dumbly as Sawyer grabbed the remote and pressed PLAY, watched Sawyer’s eyes light up with perverse delight at the sight of the two women together.
Jack settled back against the couch, wondering what the hell had just happened, or had almost happened. The huge wave of relief he’d felt on realizing that Sawyer wasn’t to blame had given way to something that felt like crushing disappointment. In the space of the last few days, he’d worked himself up to a fever pitch over this, over Sawyer. He’d started to feel things, started to imagine things that weren’t there. This sense of letdown was just because he’d built up an overblown idea that Sawyer had betrayed him, and why that meant so much to him, he hadn’t wanted to say until now.
“Look, shut that off, will you?" His heart was beating like a drum and he felt a little dizzy as he tried to tell himself to just send Sawyer home now, before he made a complete fool of himself.
“Are you kidding? Did you see this part? Where she...?" Sawyer waved the remote to emphasize his point. But he never finished his sentence because the second he glanced his way, Jack pulled Sawyer to him, one hand roughly gripping him hard by the base of the neck. His brain was still catching up with his mouth as he pressed his lips against Sawyer’s, as he took in Sawyer’s startled breath and the taste of Bushmills on his tongue.
It took Sawyer only a second to get over his shock and to start kissing Jack back. He shrugged off his leather jacket and climbed in Jack’s lap in one smooth motion, like he’d been waiting all night to do this.
Sawyer kissed Jack fiercely, pouring himself into Jack’s mouth with the same breathy haste he was taking in blindly unbuttoning Jack’s shirt. Pinned underneath the incredible heat of Sawyer's body, Jack's skin felt on fire. Sawyer's hips rocked into Jack’s with a quiet urgency and Jack moaned his approval. He was so fucking turned on, he was sure the slightest touch from Sawyer would make him come. He wanted Sawyer to hurry, to keep grinding into him just as he was doing but even stronger than the desire to come was the need to take this slow, to savor each second. He slid his hand up under Sawyer's T-shirt, marveling at the heat of Sawyer's skin, at the pulse racing under his fingertips.
"Can we go ... slow?" Jack asked, instantly regretting it as Sawyer paused in trying to get Jack's shirt off. Sawyer had misunderstood and stopped completely and that's the last thing Jack wanted.
But Sawyer was grinning. "Yeah. Slow's good." He triumphantly undid the last button on Jack's shirt and his mouth was parted as he pushed the shirt to each side, tugging it free where it had been neatly tucked in. "Just wanna look at you."
The cool air felt good on Jack's chest, just as good as Sawyer’s fingers brushing over his abs and then up to tease his nipples into hardness. Jack shivered, arching up into Sawyer's touch. Slow, slow. He was already short of breath and Sawyer had barely touched him.
“You almost kissed me .... before," Jack panted, eyes closing tight as Sawyer bent over him, tongue tracing over each nipple in turn. Jack gripped the cushion below him, willing his heart to slow down, his cock not to throb so hard, impossible with Sawyer's own erection pressing insistently against his thigh.
“Wanted to." Sawyer’s voice was a purr as his lips brushed Jack’s. He sat back, eyes dark and serious. “Really wanted to, since the plane." Jack's mouth went slack as Sawyer's tongue moved to the taut cords of his neck, tasting and teasing him with tantalizing promise, sliding ever so slowly to the hollow of his collarbone.
“Really?" Jack’s voice sounded a little high to his own ears but maybe it was just because Sawyer chose that second to shift downwards, straddling Jack a little lower, so that he had a thigh on either side of him and a free path to Jack’s crotch.
“Mmm. Just never knew you wanted me to. ‘Til now." Sawyer grinned wolfishly, then set to licking a path down Jack’s chest, pausing to circle his navel, and then continuing lower, stopping at the the inch of exposed stomach above Jack's belt. Jack could feel himself leaking already, the anticipation of that mouth around his cock almost too much.
Sawyer paused, hand hovering over Jack’s zipper and Jack moved impatiently to help him along. “Fuck slow. God, Sawyer, you're driving me crazy."
With a flash of that same wolflike grin, Sawyer unzipped his pants, tugging them halfway down Jack's hips, followed by his briefs. Sawyer slipped off the couch to kneel on the floor, lowering his head to the perfect angle. Only his hot breath touched Jack in the endless moment before he guided him into his mouth. Jack sat halfway up to see his cock slide past those heavenly lips but the sensation -- the sweet suck and pull of Sawyer's mouth and the sure grip of his hand --- was too much. Jack's abs started to shake in protest at the awkward position and he had no choice but to lie back and surrender.
One bent arm fell over his face and he bit into his forearm, willing himself to hold back as Sawyer took him in deeper. It was too intense, too fast, too perfect to hold out. Sensing how close Jack was, Sawyer switched tactics, his thumb replacing his tongue, rubbing maddeningly slow circles over his tip and over and his impending orgasm receded, only to gather again, stronger this time, as Sawyer's hot, wet mouth descended on him again. Jack’s hips jerked up. This was it. He stopped trying to fight it, because as much as he never wanted Sawyer to stop, Christ, he wanted to come.
He raised his head, needing to connect the sight of Sawyer’s lips and teasing hand with the incredible jolts of pleasure shooting through him. “Sawyer," he gasped, extending his fingers, needing to touch him. “Gonna come.... gonna..." He tried to grab Sawyer’s hair, but then his fingers brushed Sawyer's wrist and he clasped it tight, squeezing hard as the orgasm shook him. God, it’s so good, was all he could think as it hit, strong and hard, like being sucked under the ocean, dark and swirling, time and place gone in the rush and the roar.
“Oh my God, Sawyer," he gasped when he got his breath back. “That was ..."
“Good?" Sawyer rested his chin on Jack's thigh, his hand gently, absentmindedly almost, caressing Jack's hip. Jack hadn't thought it was possible for Sawyer to look any more fuckable, but with his hair mussed like that and a lazy grin on his lips -- God those lips -- Jack felt a new rush of desire.
“Are you kidding?"
Sawyer gave Jack’s hand a small squeeze. “So can I have my hand back now?"
“Yes, wow, sorry." Jack quickly released his wrist, slightly embarrassed that he'd held on for so long.
Sawyer unfolded those long legs of his, arching his back as he stretched. With his predatory grin and mess of blonde hair, he looked like some golden panther about to pounce as he leaned over Jack. He lifted his T–shirt up over his head and tossed it behind him. He stood up, easing his jeans off and Jack's breath caught in his throat at the sight of Sawyer taking his stiff cock in his own hands. He wanted Sawyer, really fucking wanted him, but this was where he was going to have to confess his complete lack of experience with men. He felt a rush of adrenaline, fear or desire or both, as Sawyer straddled him again.
“You want to touch me?" he asked, taking Jack’s hands in his without waiting for an answer and placing them on his bare chest.
“I’ve never..." Jack started to say, but Sawyer shushed him.
“It’s okay," he said, guiding Jack’s right hand to the hardness between his own palms. “It’s just like touching yourself."
“Okay." Jack nodded solemnly. He really wanted to get this right. Sawyer’s cock felt warm and solid under his palm, pulsing with life. He tried to mimic the grip he used on himself but stopped when he realized Sawyer was laughing gently at him.
“Relax. It’s not a test," Sawyer bent low to kiss Jack. “You can’t fuck this up. Trust me." Something about the way Sawyer said those last two words, kind of low and throaty, made Jack swallow hard.
“Like this," Sawyer said, guiding Jack through the motions, showing him just what he liked. He pressed harder, and so did Jack, his hand closing tightly around Sawyer’s cock now. His confidence grew as Sawyer’s eyes fluttered shut, as he started to sway on top of him. “Good," Sawyer nodded. “Just ... add a little spit... yeah... mmm. " His breath was starting to speed up now and Jack marveled to see the rapid rise and fall of his chest, see each shaky breath ripple over his abdomen, knowing that he was doing this to Sawyer.
Sawyer bent low again, lips brushing Jack's ear. "Ask me how it feels."
He was terrible at sex talk but he tried hard to echo the breathless desire in Sawyer's voice. "How ... how does it feel?"
"Good. Really fucking good. God, that’s perfect."
Jack was ridiculously proud, although just as certain he was far from perfect at this, but Sawyer was speaking again.
"Ask me if I'm close."
"Are you close?"
“Yeah. You’re gonna make me come, Jack," Sawyer said in that deep, throaty voice that went right through him. “You’re gonna make me .... “
“Come on, come for me," Jack urged, his own breath coming faster now, fully in synch with Sawyer as their clasped hands moved faster, squeezing harder and harder until Jack thought it must hurting him, but Sawyer didn’t stop and neither did he. A drop fell from Sawyer’s chin as his body -- glistening now with sweat -- rocked on top of Jack’s.
“So close," he gasped. “Fuck, Jack. Fuck me... fuck me ... Oh God." His whole body tensed for a second. His stomach sucked in and his face contorted as if in pain, and then he was coming all over Jack’s stomach in hot, liquid spurts.
He clung to the back of the couch, as if that were the only thing holding him up, as if he didn’t want to just collapse onto Jack. So Jack leaned up to take Sawyer’s head in his hands, to draw his shaking body down on top of his. He kissed Sawyer’s forehead as he smoothed the damp hair from his face.
He could feel how fast Sawyer’s heart was beating, feel the heat of his body slowly started to fade.
As amazing as Sawyer blowing him had been, he thought he almost preferred this, now, with Sawyer in his arms and the weight of him pressing Jack into the couch. Next time... he started to think, realizing how very much he wanted there to be a next time.
Next on Bachelor: Paradise Island -- Jack might have just found The One, but he's still got three overnight dates! What's a conflicted Bachelor to do?