Summary: Jack/Kate/Sawyer OT3 on the eve before the raft sails
Spoilers: Born to Run
Note: A Skate fic request for missdarksoul, with a touch of Jack. Maybe not quite what you had in mind, babe. But don’t worry, more smutty fun on the way soon, I promise.
P.S.: foxxcub has just written the definitive Sawyer-Kate beautifully angsty goodbye sex fic Into Morning. And for the definitive heartbreakingly gorgeous Jack/Sawyer goodbye sex fic, I give you All That You Can't Leave Behind by uberaeryn.
“There ain't anything on this island worth staying for.” Kate can’t get Sawyer’s words out of her mind. That hurt, disappointed look on his face was even worse. Whatever they’d had -- some kind of mutual understanding or connection -- was gone forever.
And tomorrow, he will be too.
After today, the island will be even more unbearable without him. He’s been the only person with whom she didn’t have to pretend. Or not as much, anyway.
Now she’s the island outcast and he’s Mr. Popular, grandly divvying up his prize possessions like he’s moving on to better things.
Something about seeing all the stuff he’s so carefully guarded sitting out in the sun in little piles made her realize he is really leaving. All day long, the other castaways had trooped over singly or in bunches to have a chat and leave with an alarm clock or a pair of sunglasses or bottle of lotion.
She'd watched from a distance, where they can’t see her.
It should be her on that boat. Not Sawyer. He’s better suited to stay here. She‘s going to die if she stays.
And he’ll die if he leaves.
He won’t give up his spot on the boat, anymore than Jack will come to her defense and tell everyone she hadn’t poisoned Michael. It doesn’t matter anyway. She’d lied to all of them. Or at least she’d let them think she was -- what? Nice. Kind. Generous. It was such a nice lie. For a while.
He lays on his back staring up at the half moon, shivering in the night air but not wanting to move. He tries to picture Sawyer gone and Kate still here. Once he would have welcomed that scenario. Now, he wishes she were leaving and that he were staying. Sawyer has his faults, but he’s reluctantly proven he’s part of the group. Kate, on the other hand ... she'd lied from the beginning. About everything. That’s what it hurts least to believe.
Maybe if he asks Sawyer to give up his spot for her, he will. He doesn’t know how the argument would go, exactly, just that he has to try. He doesn’t even want to admit to himself why he wants Sawyer to stay.
He’ll go in a little bit, he tells himself, as he watches the moon move across the sky.
She walks to his tent without any kind of plan. She just can’t let him go like this, hating her so much. By rights, she should be mad at him, but her heart aches too much and she’s too tired to hold out for his apology.
What if she asks him to stay with her, to give up the spot to someone else entirely? It’s a mad idea, but one that takes hold as she walks. It’s the only way to prove she cares about him and not about getting off the island.
She need an ally, and she wants him.
He’s awake and smoking when she enters his tent. He looks up in surprise, but he doesn’t say anything at first.
“No reason to keep savin’ these,” he says at last, gesturing with the now nearly gone cigarette.
She tries to smile, not sure if she succeeds. “So, you’re really going,” she says hovering uncertainly.
“Thought we settled that.“ His expression is hard and cold. “No way you’re gettin’ on that boat instead of me.”
“I know,” she says, holding her chin up. “I don’t want your spot. I... I just don’t want you to go.”
“How’s that?” he asks her, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“You don’t know the first thing about boats. It’s going to be rough out there. Sawyer ... you might not make it. Let someone else go.”
He gives her a hard look, trying to guess what she’s up to. “Aw, I’m touched you care,” he drawls sarcastically. “It makes me feel all warm inside.”
She sits down next to him and for a second she thinks he’s going to push her away. But he doesn’t.
“So what’s your fun little game this time? Drug me like you did the doc? Poison me?”
“I know you have every reason not to trust me,” she says in a low voice, “ but I didn’t poison anyone. And I was trying to help Jack.”
“Whatever,” he says, his jaw tightening up. “If you’re done with this touching goodbye, I gotta get some shuteye. I got a big day tomorrow.” He takes a final drag on his cigarette and stubs it out in the sand.
He stands up and takes her by the arm as if to drag her outside. But instead she presses up against him and the feel of her body stops him.
They stand like that for a few seconds, staring at each other. And then she leans up and kisses him. Words are no good for what she wants to say.
He stands stock still, resisting her kiss, but then she hears the breath catch in his throat. His arm goes around her and he pulls her in roughly, kissing her hard, with two months’ worth of pent-up frustration.
He scoops her up in his arms as if she weighs nothing, and then he throws her down, not bothering to take off her shirt, or his. He yanks her jeans down impatiently, and both of their hands undo the buttons of his fly, working frantically before they realize they don’t have time for this.
He kicks off his jeans and his fingers dart inside her, just enough to make sure she’s wet, before thrusting into her.
She arches her back, gritting her teeth. He’s not gentle. It almost seems like he wants to hurt her, to grind her into the sand beneath him.
Both of them are breathless by now, panting into each other’s mouths, but no longer kissing. She reaches up, but he’s out of reach, bracing himself on his arms. With each thrust, he’s pushing her farther and farther away.
She closes her eyes, so he won’t see the hurt there. Now she just wants it to be over so she can leave and then she’ll never have to see him again. Because he’s already gone.
She can tell by his ragged breathing he’s getting close, so she speeds him along, her body clenching around him, as if she can deny ever letting him in.
And then he lowers himself to meet her, bending his rigid arms to take her in them. He rolls so they’re lying side by side, staring into each other’s eyes and she can barely breathe.
He puts his hand to her hair, pushing a stray lock out of her eyes as she holds her breath, and then he kisses her, his eyes closed as he thrusts his tongue into her mouth.
She can’t help the moan that escapes as he moves inside her at this new angle, every inch of him pressed up against her. She wishes now they were skin to skin, and she impatiently wiggles out of her blouse and bra, and then eases off his sweat-soaked T-shirt.
He’s still staring into her eyes, his eyelids fluttering shut as their bare torsos slide together. He pulls her in closer, and she wraps her leg over his hip, trying to get him deeper. Now there’s no thought of speeding things up. She wants to take all the time in the world, all the time they have left, if it means staying like this with him.
He starts to move faster again, and she moves with him, gasping at the feel of him, so tight and close and deep.
He starts to shake in her arms and her traitorous tears come now, with him, as he gasps her name and then crushes her against his chest.
His heart is pounding so hard she thinks it’s going to deafen her. It should be getting quieter by now, but then she realizes what she’s hearing is the surf. As his heart slows, the ocean is getting louder and louder, like it’s already trying to take him away from her.
Jack hesitates outside Sawyer’s tent. He’s waited too long. It’s ridiculously late and they’re getting an early start in the morning. Sawyer has to be asleep by now.
He turns to go, and then he hears a noise -- and he realizes Sawyer isn’t alone.
A woman is moaning inside. He freezes. It has to be Kate. Jack knows he should leave, but he can’t. He just stands there, listening to her gasps and Sawyer’s, low, guttural groans.
He feels much too hot, suddenly. Little prickles run up and down his skin. He pictures their naked bodies tangled together, and he desperately wishes he were in there with them.
His mouth is dry as he listens to what must be Sawyer coming. It’s a low moan that has his dick as hard as if it were him in there with her.
Now things are quiet and he stands there awkwardly. There’s no question anymore of trying to talk Sawyer into staying. Except maybe this is Kate’s way of convincing him to give her his spot, and Jack’s blood surges at the thought.
Sawyer sits up suddenly and she misses his warmth already. He reaches for his jeans and yanks them on, without a glance at her.
She reaches for her own clothes, afraid to meet his eyes. “Sawyer,” she says quietly, putting a hand on his arm.
He doesn’t turn around for several agonizing seconds. And when he does, his face is a mask. She barely recognizes him. “Get out,” he tells her, his voice dead and emotionless.
She nods, too shocked to speak, just numbly puts her clothes back on. She’s taking too long for him, so he grabs her roughly by the arm.
“Get the fuck out!” he snarls in someone else’s voice and shoves her outside.
Jack starts to trudge back to the caves when Kate comes stumbling out, her hand to her head. She’s running blindly. She doesn’t see him as she runs past, just heads straight for the surf.
He hears something breaking in Sawyer’s tent -- it sounds like glass -- and he wants to make sure he’s OK, but he’s torn. Kate is still running. She’s pushing hard against the waves, struggling to get farther out, as the waves push her back to shore.
He hesitates for just a second before running after her. She’s standing chest-high in the surf, screaming, just screaming her lungs out.
He catches her around the waist, and she spins to face him. Tears streak her cheeks and her face crumples up.
“Did he... hurt you?” Jack asks, feeling stupid for asking and even more foolish for admitting he’d heard them.
She shakes her head furiously. “No,” she sobs. “He’s ... he’s leaving.”
Jack looks back at Sawyer’s tent, but there’s no sign of him.
Kate pounds at Jack’s chest, raging and crying, and he doesn’t try to stop her.
He wants to let her go, but he’s afraid of what she’ll do. When her tears finally stop, she lets him coax her back to shore.
He walks her back to her tent and stays with her, not asking if he should or not.
Eventually, she falls asleep, her head in his lap. He sits with her until the sun rises. He looks out, his eyes on Sawyer’s tent, knowing it’s too late. Now, it’s really too late.