Summary: Jack wants to teach Sawyer a lesson
Note: I totally stole this title from a William Carlos Williams short story that is quite different in subject matter.
Sawyer winced and opened his eyes. He head felt as abused as a stubborn pinata and when he went to check the damage, he met resistance when he tried to lift his hands. Not this again. He was kneeling on the ground, hands pulled behind a tree and bound there. Fuck.
It must have been about dawn, he figured, judging by the pink streaks edging the sky. The damp from the ground had spread into bones. How long had he been here like this?
He didn’t see anyone. A chill went down his spine. What the fuck was this about this time? He tried to remember what had happened earlier tonight.
The last thing he remembered was Kate coming into his tent and making a grab for that damn metal case. And then she swung it at him and he saw stars and ... how the hell did that lead to this?
Sawyer turned in the direction of the voice and there was Jack, hovering, his expression even grimmer than usual, the jaw set, the eyes unrelenting and unforgiving.
“You wanna tell me what the fuck is goin’ on?”
“You got out of hand once too often.”
“Doc,” Sawyer said, putting as much ironic charm into his voice as he could. “You’re runnin’ short on ideas here. This all seems awfully familiar.”
“Had to be done. You need to learn some respect for others, Sawyer.”
“Is that so? Is Ali waiting in the bushes with the bamboo sticks again? Maybe wanna try to sever another artery this time?”
“No. It’s just you and me.”
That chill came back and decided to take up permanent residence around the small of Sawyer’s back. Jack had started to pace, and Sawyer couldn’t help but watch him as he walked back and forth, keeping his distance for now. He seemed as if he were using every ounce of self-control to hold himself back.
It occurred to Sawyer that Sayid, calm, cool, collected Sayid, might be more adept at torture, but that Jack, once his mask of civilization slipped, might be even more dangerous. He was like a sleeping volcano and Sawyer knew that it was more than likely he was about to erupt and it was going to be very, very ugly for him when that happened.
“Mind tellin’ me what is I’m supposed to have done?” Sawyer licked his lips, more nervous than he wanted to let on.
Jack gave a short, harsh laugh. “You don’t remember attacking Kate?” His eyes burned accusingly.
“Kate? She attacked me, you moron, and I’ve got the lump on the head to prove it. That girl swings a mean suitcase.”
Jack crouched down until they were eye to eye. “That’s not what she says. She says you tried to take advantage of her.”
Sawyer snorted. “Wait, she said that? And you believe her?”
“Someone tore her clothes.” Jack’s voice was calm, matter of fact, but Sawyer could feel the anger boiling just under the surface.
“Yeah, most likely her. C’mon, Jack,” the name slipped out without him meaning to use it and it sounded to his own ears like he was begging him. He started again, his voice nearing a growl. “You know she’s a liar. You know you can’t trust her. ”
He waited for Jack’s response but was met only with that angry gaze.
“Right? I mean, wake up, Jack. She’s no saint.”
“And you are? I should trust you?”
“Was only tryin’ to get into that damn case, not into her pants. But, fine, don’t believe me. I thought maybe you were smarter than that,” Sawyer snapped. “Just do whatever the hell you’re gonna do and let’s get it over with.”
He hadn’t seen any weapons on Jack. He just had his bare hands but from the way Jack was looking at him, like a steaming kettle about to blow, there wasn’t a lot of comfort in that fact. So he wasn’t sanctioning the use of deadly force this time, he was still going to get his pound of flesh from Sawyer, one way or the other. Right now Jack’s hands were clenching and unclenching and Sawyer began to work harder to try to get his own hands free.
“You think you can just bluff your way out of this,” Jack thrust his face right up into his, until Sawyer could feel his breath on his cheek and see the red in his eyes.
He took Sawyer’s head between his hands and for a split second Sawyer thought he was going to kiss him.
Completely off balance now, he tensed, waiting to see what Jack would do but he just leaned in even more, clearly enjoying invading Sawyer’s personal space. But Sawyer didn’t give an inch. He wasn’t going to be intimidated by this fucking asshole who ... was putting his hand on his crotch.
“Your hand slip?” Sawyer growled.
“Just seeing how you like this kind of treatment,” Jack said coolly, his eyes daring Sawyer to balk.
The hand stayed put, the heat of it transmitting to his dick in a very unwelcome way. “Yeah, well, I don’t, and you’ve got some sick sense of justice there, doctor.”
Jack’s expression was still deathly serious, which made it even stranger when his hand began to move back and forth, tracing the outlines of Sawyer’s fly. Sawyer hissed in a breath, bracing himself against the tree as the friction began to have the usual effect.
“Didn’t know you liked me that way.” Sawyer glared at him and then, fuck it, he was grinding into Jack’s hand, calling him on his bluff because there’s no way he meant this to go this far, but if anything Jack just pressed harder.
Now there was a wild look in Jack’s eye and he was starting to breathe fast and then he closed his eyes for a second and when he opened them again, the mask of control was gone. Sawyer tried to read what he saw on his face -- it was rage and need and just raw.
He took his hand away and Sawyer didn’t know whether to feel relieved or cheated. Jack held his hand up and for a second Sawyer thought he was going to backhand him. But instead he spit into his palm and as he worked his zipper down, Sawyer shook his head.
“Oh no, no you fuckin’ don’t...” he snarled but when the hand closed on his cock he squeezed his eyes shut, shutting out the image of Jack’s intent face, trying to disassociate it from the hand that was drawing him out and running over the length of him now.
“Fuck ... you... I’m gonna kill you.” He growled as he felt Jack scoot closer until he was practically in his lap and then he seriously set to jerking him off, those callused hands taking charge of him as if he were just an extension of Jack, as if that fucker owned him. His eyes flew open and he met that dark, obsessed stare, just daring him to fight back if he could.
Sawyer was panting hard now and he was reaching the point where he didn’t want Jack to stop... except that he was still choking with rage. His bottled-up fury had nowhere to go except into his cock and he let out an involuntary moan as little jolts of pleasure shot through him. His body started to shudder and he could feel the tension building in his stomach and thighs as his cock was near to exploding in Jack’s hand.
Jack leaned in even closer, his mouth inches away from Sawyer’s, seemingly breathing in his air, but not close enough to bite, even though Sawyer tried to nip at him, his teeth longing to sink into his enemy’s face and just tear through him. “Gonna ... kill you,” he gasped as he came, the hot rush flooding through him as he jerked helplessly under Jack’s touch, his hands twitching against their bonds.
He slumped forward as Jack backed off. He didn't want to raise his head and see the look of victory in Jack’s eyes. As his body cooled, he was painfully aware of his now limp cock laying on his thigh. He didn’t feel like he could be humiliated much worse at this point unless Jack came back and pissed on him. All he knew was that the second he was free, he really was going to kill him.
He raised his head at last, his breath back under control and his eyes blazing, only to see Jack walking away.
“You’re just gonna leave me here like this?” Sawyer yelled. “You miserable fuck!” He yelled after him until his throat was hoarse but by now Jack had been swallowed by the jungle.
Shit. This was even worse. His hands had already gone numb, what with all the pulling and straining he’d done to try to get free. His knees were killing him and there was that little matter of being left hanging left to flap free in the breeze for anyone or anything that came along. Shit, were there going to be more people trooping out here to “teach him a lesson,” he wondered, feeling suddenly like he was going to be sick.
His imagination ran wild as he waited, until he’d convinced himself that he’d never get the chance to kill Jack, because now he could never let him go. The second Jack untied him he’d be at his throat and Jack knew it. If he came back at all, it would be to kill him. Sawyer knew it in his bones and he couldn’t help wishing he’d gone out that other time instead, because then at least it would have been with a little dignity. And after he’d at least made out with a woman, even if she was the biggest bitch he’d ever met in his all-too-short life.
Jack was either off building himself up to coming back and killing him, or maybe, just maybe he was too embarrassed to face him now.
Sawyer tried to jump up when he heard a noise but the pain in his hands and knees pulled him up short. Right. He was still tied to a tree like a fucking damsel in distress and he was still unzipped and exposed to the fucking elements. And now he had to pee worse than he ever had in his life.
He pulled at the rope around his wrists until he felt them biting into the flesh and he came closer to crying than he had since he could count his age in single digits.
An indistinct rustling came again and he almost forgot the throbbing in his hands and the powerful need to piss. Now he sat up, every nerve tingling, just waiting to see what would emerge out of the jungle this time.
He was almost relieved to see Jack at this point, even as he questioned that Pavlovian response to the man who had done this to him.
“It’s about fuckin’ time,” he spat out, holding his threat inside him. Let the fucker think he’d broken him. He just had to convince him he’d calmed down enough for him to let him go and then if he didn’t kill him today, there was always tomorrow. Although he itched for it be now, to wrap his hands around his throat and have him beg for mercy and just squeeze until he saw the light go out of his eyes.
He watched carefully as Jack approached. He had his backpack with him and he pulled out a towel and a bottle of water. He held the water to Sawyer’s lips and he jerked his mouth away.
“Fuck off. I don’t need your damn water. What I need is to take a goddamn leak.”
Jack regarded him carefully and then he said quietly. “I can help you with that.”
“Don’t you fuckin’...” he started to say and then Jack had grabbed his dick again - and pointing it a safe distance away from his body. He sighed with desperate relief as he let it go finally while his brain argued whether this was better than having pissed all over himself.
“Done?” Jack asked, like Sawyer was a fucking toddler and he merely glared at him. Jack nodded and then, in the most professional manner possible, began to clean him off with a towel and then tuck him back into his jeans.
“Am I gonna get a sorry out of this anytime soon?” Sawyer bit back his anger, trying to seem weak, defeated. Pliable, even. Jack was dumb enough to buy it.
But Jack ignored him, just said smoothly, as if he were discussing the weather. “What would you do if I untied you right now?”
Jack was just taunting him and Sawyer lunged like a rabid dog at his captor, ignoring his bonds and his seconds-old plan to roll over and let Jack think he had won.
“I’d kill you,” Sawyer spat and he saw Jack register this and believe it and then he just nodded and moved to the back of the tree. Sawyer felt his bonds being loosened and he pulled his arms free and sprang to his feet, but stumbled badly, his legs somehow not working properly.
Jack moved around to face him and his anger overpowered his dysfunctional legs and he jumped, knocking him to the ground, hard. His hands, still numb and shockingly rubbed raw, were around Jack’s throat and he was trying to strangle him but his hands weren’t cooperating and Jack just looked up at him with infinite patience and that made him even madder.
He could still use his hands as blunt objects and he started battering at Jack’s face and chest, yelling every horrible thing he could think of and still not being satisfied because Jack was holding him off with little effort. Sawyer’s frustration was such that he began to bite at the hands that held him but Jack just heaved suddenly until he now he was on top. Sawyer bucked and bit and swore but he was in no shape to win this fight today.
Jack was going to let him cause enough damage to justify killing him, he could see, and he drew on the last reserve of strength to fight him off, to try to make a run for it.
But, even despite what had happened, he wasn’t prepared when Jack reached for his zipper again. While he fought to keep from being Jack’s bitch for the second time today, he heard another zipper being undone and then he felt Jack’s cock pressing against his, length to length, and Jack closed his eyes and arched back and began to thrust against him, his hand closing around both of them, and Sawyer just gave up.
All the pain and fury were turned to pounding waves of pleasure as Jack moved on top of him and he began to move with him, reluctantly at first and then with a growing, irrational need. Jack bent low over him and when his mouth closed on his, Sawyer’s lips opened and he took him in with a growl. He didn’t bite or swear because now he just fucking needed this as much as Jack did. His hands were somehow gripping Jack’s skull and holding him in place as Jack brought them both gasping to climax within seconds of each other.
Jack collapsed on top of him, his body warm and heavy and then he rolled over and Sawyer saw confusion and doubt on his face and something like regret.
He waited, trying to get his breath back and then Jack rolled against him and put his hand on his face, his lips hovering just over his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.”
“And you think I need to be tied to trees and roughed up?” Sawyer said finally, wondering at his own restraint in his choice of words.
Jack sat up, pulling away from him, his head bent. He sank his head in his hands.
Sawyer didn’t know how to react to this abject, sorrowful Jack. He was taking all the fight and hate out of him, but he’d be damned if he was going to just pat him on the head and say everything was OK.
“You just realizing you’re more fucked up than me?” Sawyer said, sitting up and zipping himself up.
Jack got to his feet and surreptitiously zipped his fly and then busied himself gathering his backpack, all without meeting Sawyer’s eye. He came back with the towel and water and wordlessly reached for Sawyer’s hand.
“Now what?” he snapped.
“Let me clean up those wrists, at least,” Jack said quietly, finally looking him in the eye.
Sawyer grabbed the towel from his hand and just glared at him as he dabbed at his cuts.
“So, you believe me now?” Sawyer demanded, leveling Jack with a hard stare.
“I don’t know,” Jack admitted. “I don’t think I’m sure of very much right now.” His head was low, his voice barely audible. “I’ve never ...”
“Yeah, I never either, doc,” Sawyer mumbled, his face flushing. “Let’s just both drop it, OK?”
That wasn’t what he wanted to say, not by a long shot.
But he saw the worry settle in around Jack’s eyes and the lines around his mouth and it made him feel the tiniest bit better. Let Jack fret and stew and wonder how he would get back at him. Let him stay up sleepless nights, not knowing when and where and what form it would take, just that Sawyer would be as ruthless and savage as he had been.
He tossed the towel back to Jack, who nodded as if everything was OK now. They walked back, Jack in front and Sawyer keeping a careful pace several yards behind him, his eyes never leaving Jack’s back.