Title:   Wheels in Motion (aka Denial Stream)
Author:  SM (burntsm0re)
Fandom:  Lost
Pairing:  Locke/Boone
 

They first collided in the hotel lobby.

“Watch what you’re doing--” Boone and John exclaimed in unison.

The flustered bellboy apologized profusely as he tried to pick up John’s bags after they dumped to the floor.

Boone tried to sidestep the damage, anger flaring as he gingerly rubbed his tender shin, but an open case of—of knives caught his eye.

“Jesus,” he breathed. His eyes flicked over the other man and the tension usually brought on when one encountered a lunatic carrying weapons through a hotel lobby quickly faded.

This lunatic was a paraplegic. He was dressed as if he was going to single-handedly tame the bush and Boone had no doubt that the numerous bags the bellboy was piling back on his rack were full of such equipment. The man in the wheelchair stared back at Boone defiantly, as if it was just an ordinary occurrence, and oddly Boone’s temper squelched itself just as quickly as it had bloomed. If the nut wanted to take on the Australian bush, more power to him, and—and if Shannon—

Boone rubbed his bruising cheek. If Shannon wanted to stay with some loser who would beat her for Boone’s money then the fucking slut could just lay in the bed she’d made for herself, but he wasn’t paying anymore.

The other man had stopped caring if Boone was there or not and was barking orders at the bellboy. There was enough attention drawn to them already Boone noticed, so he tried to lend a hand and get them moving again more quickly.

“I got it,” the man in the chair snapped when their hands reached for the same bag.

Boone recoiled at the venomous outburst. “Sorry,” he stammered and the other man’s piercing eyes were still angry, but frustration seemed to dominate his countenance as he easily tugged the bag onto his lap.

“For what?” he challenged.

Boone shifted defensively, involuntarily preparing for another fight until he realized the ridiculousness of the entire situation. He shook his head and stepped back, hands up in surrender. “Whatever, man.”

Boone went on his way again, crossing the expansive marble lobby to the bar, and ignoring the other man’s eyes burning into his back.

***

Boone sat at the bar and nursed his beer, but he ordered another shot of whiskey whenever his phone rang. He turned the ringer off so it wouldn’t disturb the other customers, but he couldn’t bring himself to completely turn it off. Not when Shannon was trying to call him every ten minutes. When the phone vibrated in his pocket, he flagged the bartender down.

The whiskey had quit burning his cut lip after the second shot, but it wasn’t doing anything for the bile churning in his gut again.

The phone vibrated a sixth time and Boone drunkenly raised his hand once more, expecting to finally have the bartender cut him off when he saw he couldn’t keep himself from swaying on the stool. It wouldn’t matter anyway because she wouldn’t call again.

After an hour of ignored calls she would come to find him—if she wasn’t already on her way. The fact that he’d finally caught onto her scam may have made her more desperate. He wondered how far she would lower herself this time--to his own level, finally?-- to get him crawling after her cunt again.

The bartender instead brought a cup of coffee and tipped his head to the row of darkened booths behind Boone. “From the gentleman, said his name is John. American.”

Boone raised an eyebrow at the bartender. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, being propositioned by either sex, but he wondered if the bartender understood the significance of ‘John’. But perhaps it did translate universally, or the bartender had just been at his job long enough. He just shrugged indifferently and went back to washing glasses, though Boone thought he could feel his eyes watching him too when he turned and glanced over his shoulder.

Or maybe it was still ‘John’.

Boone saw the man from the lobby sitting in one of the booths. Boone’s eyes curiously skirted the area and he spotted the wheelchair folded up around the corner. He’d intended to push the coffee away, he needed that one last shot to steel himself for Shannon’s game, but instead his curt thanks but no thanks message was lost as the other man extended a hand and pointed to the seat beside him in invitation.

Boone stood on wobbling legs and walked over to join him. To set him straight, he thought.

Regardless of his handicap, the man thought he could do anything and Boone felt something curl up inside him, dying. It was vicious that he wanted to hurt the other man the same way, but there was no way someone in his condition should have a better grasp on things than Boone. Boone had everything, but the one thing he would sell his soul for and--

He wanted to trade places.

***

"You think you can really do it?" Boone asked in disbelief.

John nodded. "You don't know me or what I can do so why would you assume I can't--"

"John, I don't doubt you have the heart, but you're in a wh--"

"I got you to sit down with me,” John reminded him. “I'm sure no one would've thought that possible to look at us."

Boone flushed slightly and for the first time, he hadn’t looked at his phone sitting on the table when it flashed. John wondered who he was avoiding, yet clearly keeping track of. The other man had pulled his phone from his pocket when he sat down and adjusted the setting so it didn’t ring or vibrate, it just flashed when a call came in and his eyes slid to the caller id and back to John.

"That's not that strange," Boone replied, still not noticing the incoming call.

"You thought I was trying to pick you up and yet you still sat down."

Boone smiled coyly, obviously still surprised that he had confessed that much. He had almost seemed… disappointed when John denied it. And John couldn’t help picturing the young lean body nude and spread out for him. He hadn’t wanted anyone else since Helen.

‘I just wanted to hear about your day’ John had said, indicating Boone’s bruised jaw. ‘You story is probably better than mine.’

Despite the request, Boone had avoided telling it, but he hadn’t left either.

"My being here… with you,” Boone licked his lips and took another sip of water, “for whatever reason, is not the same as you wanting to do a walkabout by wheelchair in the Australian outback," he insisted.

"What would be the same?" John asked. “If I had actually propositioned you?”

Boone blinked at him. “I—can you—I’m sorry.” He waved to the waiter for a refill, unable to look John in the eye again.

It wasn’t an uncommon reaction, but John couldn’t help but wonder if it was more than just morbid curiosity. “Ask, Boone. Can I have sex?”

Boone’s eyes darted around and John assumed he was nervous someone may hear. Maybe assume—

Clearly Boone’s curiosity had gotten the better of him and now he regretted, though not as much as John.

“Yes. I can get an erection and have an orgasm.” John kept talking as the waiter pretended not to listen and poured more water into their glasses. “It just takes a more attentive and patient partner. Someone who’s more interested in intimacy than gratification. I haven’t found that person yet.” And he’d never before imagined it might be a man until tonight—but not this one.

Boone was still looking anywhere but at him.

John carefully pushed himself away. “I should go.” He pulled his legs over the foot of the table until he could reach around and grab his chair.

Then Boone reached for his arm. “Why? Did I--”

John almost thought he was sincere, but it didn’t matter. “No,” he huffed. It was his own fault, he knew. He didn’t know why he always hoped someone would eventually treat him any differently—equally--because they didn’t. Besides, it was one thing to try to tell somehow how it could be compared to them actually experiencing it. All of it. There was no way to positively spin everything. "I have to follow a bladder program so I don’t wet myself,” John stated bluntly.

Boone gaped at him and John only felt a twinge of guilt for ruining whatever fantasy the other man may have had about being a pity date. It was less awkward this way.

John unfolded the chair and set the breaks so he could move himself over. “Good night, Boone.”

“Can I help?” Boone asked tentatively. He slid out of the booth and reached for the handles in the back of the chair.

“I don’t need any help,” John shot back tersely.

“I know.” Boone again missed another incoming call and John started to remind him he’d left his phone behind—“But why make it harder on yourself if you don’t have to,” Boone said, leaning close enough that John could smell the slight tang of sweat under expensive cologne.

John’s resolve quickly faded as his skin started to tingle and he knew he was flushing red.

If he went out into the blinding light now everyone would know how much a pathetic old man wanted this boy.

Boone released the brakes. “Okay?” he asked, moving before John even answered.

John couldn’t remember the last time anyone did something so simple for him and he could only nod in compliance as they left the bar.

Boone only had one near collision getting off the carpeted floor and narrowly missing a large pillar at the door. He quickly corrected himself though and soon had control of the fast moving chair as they glided over the burnished marble to the elevator bank.

Boone thumbed the up button and stood beside John. Looking down he said, “Jesus, John, you could’ve just said you needed to use the bathroom.”

John looked back at him and grinned.

“My god, are you that desperate?” A woman sneered as she came up behind them. John felt Boone stiffen beside him as he turned.

“Shut up, Shannon.”

The mystery caller Boone had been avoiding.

The blonde woman’s heels clicked sharply on the floor as she closed the gap between them, pressing herself as close as she could without touching. “You’re drunk.” She looked in his eyes and smirked. “You always get desperate to fuck anything with a pulse when you’re drunk.”

He smiled coldly at her. “That explains a lot about the past five years, doesn’t it?” When her lips flattened in anger he added, “And I’m sobering up now.”

The elevator doors opened and John pushed himself inside, carefully executing a three point turn to face the front and press the button for the eighth floor.

Boone attempted to follow, but Shannon grabbed his elbow. “I didn’t mean it, I just—” When he jerked free she gasped in surprise. “Boone, please. I know you’re going home tomorrow. Take me with you. I don’t want to stay here, not like this.”

“You can leave anytime. Just buy a ticket.” Boone tried to get on before the doors closed, but she grabbed him again, and John made no attempt to wait for him.

“He took the money, alright?” she said just as John left them behind.

John didn’t think about—he wouldn’t let himself—there had never been a chance. Just an unlikely meeting with a drunk young man in a dark bar worlds away from home.

John watched the numbers move and counted the floors opening up between them, imagining it was years, continents, experiences.


That beautiful girl. Such a lovely face and body, but a cruel soul. Boone loved her though. Maybe as much as John thought he had loved Helen.

But she never loved him back.

***

Boone took Shannon up to his room and called the airline to reserve a ticket for her the next morning.

Shannon came out of the bathroom and the towel she had wrapped around herself slipped a little as she knelt beside him on the bed. When her arms moved around his waist he could feel the towel fall away and her damp skin seeped through the fabric of his shirt so they were stuck together.

Boone closed his eyes, wondering how far she would take it this time. Would she hate him just as much as he hated her if he let her go through with it?

“I already bought your ticket,” he said, pushing her away.


***

Boone ignored the bartender’s curious gaze as he sat down at the bar again.

He wasn’t surprised Shannon hadn’t followed him; she’d gotten what she needed, though she reached a new low still trying to fuck him, to make sure he was just as tightly wrapped around her finger as always. He reached into his pocket out of habit to get his phone—how many times would she call to check on him--but then he realized he didn’t have it.

Where--

“Call Mr. Locke in room,” the waiter checked the bill John had signed, “815 and tell him we have his phone,” he said to the bartender.

Boone waved to him. “I just came back down for it.”

***

It took a few minutes for John for to get to the door. Boone was surprised the other man hadn’t told him to just leave. Boone probably would’ve been much ruder if he’d been awoken in the middle of the night by someone he didn’t know. And he certainly didn’t have an answer for John when the other man finally opened the door and inevitably asked, “What are you doing here?”

Boone held up the phone. “Bartender asked me to give this back to you.”

John frowned. “That’s your phone.”

“So I didn’t correct him,” Boone shrugged. He put the phone in his pocket and peeked through the slim opening. John wasn’t moving back to open the door wider and let him in. He’d made a huge mistake. “I should go--”

“No, you already got me up again, come in.”

John rolled back and Boone pushed the door open and followed him inside. John stopped moving near the bed and looked up at him. “Your girlfriend is--”

“Sister.” Boone sat down on the bed because he didn’t like looking down at John and the bed was rumpled and... inviting. “She’s my step-sister actually. Gets involved with the wrong guys and calls me to come bail her out.”

“Because you’re the right guy.”

Boone shook his head. “Because I’m--”

“Why are you here?” John asked again.

Boone wondered what John’s bare legs looked like under the blanket covering his lap. He only had a t-shirt on, showing well-defined arm and chest muscles, and presumably some underwear.

It had to be the whiskey still warming his gut that made him want to seduce John. He could still be upstairs, burying himself in soft skin and pliant limbs, but everything underneath was hard and cold. He knew that. Instead he wanted this. Hard edges and taut muscles that were stretched thinly over a soft underbelly John couldn’t protect from him.

John couldn’t resist so Boone kissed him.

John was startled and tried to pull away, but Boone held him there—Jesus, taking advantage of a crippled man—and continued to kiss him anyway. He waited for the guilt to come, especially when John gave in and kissed him back, probably because it was easier than fighting, but it wasn’t there. And John wasn’t stopping. He had been right all along, John wanted him. And he should be disgusted with himself for being as bad as Shannon—taking advantage of someone else’s feelings just to get what he wanted.

But he wasn’t.

“You want me,” he breathed against John’s mouth, sliding back to remove the blanket between them.

John stopped his hand. “Yes.” He looked at Boone, holding the other man’s jaw in his hand with a strength that was startling and god, Boone was hard. “But why are you here?” John asked again.

“I want you too.” Boone didn’t know where the words came from, but they were suddenly out and true. Jesus.

John rolled back away from him, his face closed and blank.

“John? I’m sorry, did I--”

“You want this?” John asked, waving his hand over his immobile legs. “Someone who can never satisfy you?”

Boone shook his head, trying to understand where he’d lost the upper hand. “You said you just needed the right person--”

“And you think that’s you? There’s no miracle here, Boone, what you see is what you get.”

“I know--”

“I can’t give you whatever it is you’re looking for.”

Boone didn’t believe him. Didn’t want to. Wouldn’t.

He stood up and unbuttoned his shirt. John made no move to stop him, his mouth opening slightly maybe to protest, but he didn’t and Boone felt a little thrill of triumph course through him. He slowly took his shirt off and let it drop to the floor, all the while watching John’s eyes follow his movements, his breathing obviously changing to match his arousal. He moved closer to John, kneeling at his feet and putting John’s hands on his chest.

“Boone--” John’s voice cracked.

Boone leaned forward and kissed him again, tugging the blanket off of John’s lap so he could move closer. “Please, John.”

John’s hands ghosted over his skin and Boone shivered. His own hands slid across John’s thighs, touching warm skin and wiry hair up to the edge of John’s shorts. He knew John couldn’t feel it, but he moved back a little so John could see he wanted to touch everywhere—wanted all of him. Boone’s fingers were skimming under the leg of John’s shorts when John caught his hand.

“Here,” he directed gently, placing Boone’s hand under his t-shirt. When Boone’s fingers brushed over John’s ribs the older man sighed. Boone moved higher, pushing the shirt out of the way as he kissed John’s stomach and rubbed a nipple. “Ah, sweet boy,” John rumbled, ruffling his hair.

***

Boone got a towel and the lotion from the bathroom and then turned out the light so the room was dark except for the one remaining lamp beside the bed.

John had removed his clothes and moved to the bed. He was sitting up against the headboard and watching Boone remove his pants and underwear.

“Okay?” Boone asked, lying down beside John.

In the last hour he’d studiously learned the most erogenous areas above John’s waist—between the ribs, nipples, collarbone, throat and ears—and he turned his attention back to them without waiting for an answer.

As much as talking about erections and orgasms had put him off in the bar, talking to John about his needs and abilities while sharing some heavy petting—Jesus he hadn’t just touched anyone so much since high school—was an incredible turn-on.

And it was John’s first time with a man.

Boone had lost his shit and damn near come in his pants when John confessed how much he wanted to fuck him.

Boone carefully rolled over John, putting a knee between John’s legs and balancing on his arms. He kissed his way down John’s torso and when he reached John’s hips, he scraped his nails over the hardened nipples and took John’s semi-erect cock in his mouth. He understood John was only tolerating the attention for his benefit and he savored it, looking up to keep eye contact with John so he knew how much Boone enjoyed it.

“I love your dick, John.” Boone sprinkled kisses along his thighs before moving back up to his chest again. “I could suck you all night.”

John groaned and pulled him up, kissing hungrily. His hands kneaded and pinched Boone’s ass and tried to drag him up higher. “Come here,” he demanded raggedly.

Boone straddled his chest so John could return the favor, but he couldn’t just fuck his throat the first time so Boone held his dick against his belly, slowly stroking himself with the flat of his hand, up and down, and used the other hand to guide John’s mouth to his balls. “Just lick--” he rasped as wet heat enveloped the heavy globes, “God, John…” John’s hands moved back and massaged his ass some more and Boone leaned forward to balance against the wall as he carefully guided John’s head higher. Long broad swipes over the length of his dick made his fucking legs shake and he pinched the head, moaning loudly as John continued to lick and kiss his shaft and nuts.

John pushed his hand away from the tip and Boone groaned, wrapping his fist around the base to keep himself from pushing too deep too fast. "Suck it,” he gasped, feeding John the head.

And a little more. And more. John’s mouth was soon sliding wetly over half the length and Boone gave in, carefully thrusting back and forth between John’s tight lips and the impatient fingers delving between his cheeks, rubbing the wrinkled pucker. “Oh god, fuck me.” John continued to suck harder and Boone had to force himself to pull away before he came.

“John, I want—Jesus, just—here.” Boone leaned over and grabbed the lotion, scooting back down to kneel over John’s hips. He slicked John’s fingers and moved his hand back between his legs. “It’s been a while so just go slow. Just one.” Boone groaned when the first finger slid inside.

“Good?” John asked, pulling out and pushing back in. A big hand closed around Boone’s throat and lifted Boone’s head so he could see his reaction—Boone’s eyes rolling back in his head.

“Yes,” Boone hissed. “More.”

Another finger was added and Boone tried to breath through the sharp pleasure jolting his insides at each deep slide. He wriggled free of John’s grip and fumbled with the lotion to slick John’s fingers a little more and guide three inside. “Fuck,” he groaned when they twisted against the best spots.

“You--” John broke off, huffing against his cheek, “Boone--”

Boone’s spine melted at John’s loss of control and he bit John’s neck over and over, sucking hard enough to leave a string of marks. John grunted and stiffened and Boone winced at the rough jab in his ass as John froze.

“John?” He pulled back and saw the other man’s face twisted and red as he convulsed. “Fuck,” Boone barked, fear clutching his chest.

“Shit,” John gasped, slowly relaxing again. He blinked tiredly at Boone and smiled. “Sorry, couldn’t stop--” he panted.

“You mean-- ”relief flooded through him, ”but--” Boone glanced between them at John’s dry flaccid cock.

“I can’t ejaculate,” John reminded him. “Not like this.”

Boone smoothed John’s red sweaty brow. “But it was good?” he asked skeptically.

John nodded, resuming his earlier task. “Touching you is very good.” Long fingers slowly moved inside again and whoa, Boone had practically forgotten they were there. His dick had lost interest as well, but when John’s other hand stroked it with the same rhythm he felt the sparks light up again. “Come for me,” John growled. “I want to feel it.”

Oh, fuck.

Boone groaned, twisting his hips so John’s fingers touched everywhere it felt best. John moved them back and forth and side to side, stretching him nicely so he’d still feel it the next day.

He wanted to.

Soon he was feeling his balls tighten up and his spine start to tingle. “I’m going to… oh god,” Boone gasped. His orgasm slammed into him and he was vaguely aware of John kissing him through the tremors. “John…” Boone collapsed against his chest, still kissing deeply.

John withdrew his fingers and Boone gingerly moved off him, still feeling minute tremors deep inside. He used the towel to clean them up, John still kissing and touching everywhere and kind of hindering Boone’s progress. “Wow,” Boone finally murmured, tossing the towel aside. He settled down, stretching out beside John, but now he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, hoping John didn’t want him to just leave, though he’d understand. He didn’t want to hurt John in the night if he rolled or--

John just reached over and turned out the light before pulling Boone closer.

***

John’s alarm woke Boone but he quickly fell back to sleep with a fuzzy smile as John moved to his chair and went to the bathroom. When John returned Boone stirred again.

“Come back here,” he entreated.

“Can’t,” John replied regretfully. “My flight leaves in a couple hours.”

Boone frowned. “So does mine.” He sat up, looking around the room, seemingly puzzled. “I’m sure Shannon is looking for me.”

John nodded, turning back to his packing. He didn’t need to ask what Boone was looking for. “Your phone is on the floor by the chair.”

John heard Boone slip from the bed and gather his—

“Let’s stay,” Boone said, kneeling beside him.

John’s heart skipped a beat.

“You don’t have to leave just because they wouldn’t let you do your walkabout. It’s your vacation. I can spare a few more days and we’ll do our own. Whatever we want.”

John wanted to believe it was what Boone wanted, more than what he was trying to avoid at home. “Boone--”

But Boone silenced any other thoughts with a kiss. He stood and pushed John’s chair back to the bed and as John moved himself over, Boone turned his phone off.

***

The television was on, airing some daytime soap opera, when John woke again. His stomach flipped when he thought Boone had left, but then he heard the shower running in the bathroom. He was just about to move himself to his chair when a sudden news alert caught his attention.

John scrambled for the remote on the other night stand across the bed, carelessly heaving himself off balance and he fell to the floor, striking his head on the edge of the table.

He was dizzy and disoriented when Boone found him a few minutes later.

“John! What happened?” Careful hands moved over his body. “Shit, you cut your head. Hang on.” Boone went back to the bathroom and came back with a towel. “Here, just sit still.”

“The plane…”

“I know we missed it. It’s okay--”

“Crashed,” John mumbled around the blood. He must’ve bit his tongue too.

“What?”

John waved his hand at the TV where the news was still rattling late breaking developments regarding the flight they’d cancelled.

“Oh my god…Shannon…no, no, it can’t--” Boone’s hands were shaking as he reached for the remote and turned up the volume. He blanched when he realized John was right and his legs were unsteady as he tried to get off the floor. “I have to—I—god--”

John reached for his leg and Boone crumpled next to him again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, here…just--” Boone somehow managed to pull John off the floor and lay him on the bed again.

“John, I have to go,” Boone said, “I have to find Shannon.”

John nodded, staring blankly at the ceiling as he heard Boone dial the desk and call a doctor. Then the fast rush of feet on the carpet and the soft snick of the door closing before the darkness rushed in.

***

2 months later

John didn’t really expect Boone to return his call this time, but he gave the secretary the same message he’d left everyday the first week after the crash.

“One moment please,” she replied. He assumed she was writing his name and number down, but he heard a click and then the call rang through.

“John.”

His mouth was dry but he managed to say, “You found her.”

He didn’t know why it mattered now, but it should. Dammit, it should. Pushing the flood of emotions back down where they’d stayed since Boone left that day, he added, “I’m glad. Just wanted to say--”

“I’m sorry,” Boone whispered. The phone line crackled between them and John pushed it closer to his ear so he could hear Boone breathing even if he didn’t say anything else.

Then he heard a tight laugh. “She hates me too, if it matters.”

“No, Boone. I don’t--” John had to close the curtain he’d been holding back to see the horizon. He needed to keep himself together and grounded in the small room. “I’m sure she’ll get over it, she’s been through a traumatic--”

“She knows I was relieved when she was gone. I wanted her gone.”

“Then why didn’t you come back? We could’ve done so much together.”

Boone sucked in a shuddering breath. “John--”

“Because you love her,” John answered. He knew. “She’s your sister and you didn’t want her to die. She’ll understand someday.”

“It won’t change anything. We’ll never be--”

“No. But is that what you really want?” John asked, clutching the phone more tightly. “You can start a new life now. The crash changed everything and gave us all a new chance. It’s up to you to take it.”

He could hear Boone shuffling papers and there was another voice in the background. The real world slammed back around them and John felt the connection slipping away again.

“John, I have to go--”

“I understand. Take care--”

“Can…can I call you later?”

“Sure,” John replied, his number suddenly slipping from his mind out of nerves. But he forced it back and gave it to Boone.

“Are you in Sydney?” Boone asked after a moment, probably trying to place the exchange.

“Yes.”

“Wh--”

“I never left.”

***

John wanted to greet him at the airport, but Boone told him it was too much of a hassle. He knew John was angry, but it wasn’t really about John’s handicap, Boone just wanted a little more time before—

Before what?

He didn’t dare hope.

And yet he had to. Otherwise there was no point.

He still couldn’t believe he’d just walked away from—

“Boone.”

Boone wondered if he could pretend not to hear, a little burst of anger burning in his chest. He’d only asked for one thing. What was John doing here--

He spotted his bag on the carousel and reached for it, startled when another hand grabbed it.

John hoisted the duffle bag over his shoulder. “Is that it?”

Boone could only nod and John smiled. “Good, let’s go.”

John led the way through the crowd, finally stopping when he realized Boone wasn’t behind him.

Boone still stood rooted to the spot as he gaped at the other man. “You can walk?!”

***

John opened the door to the little cottage he’d bought just outside Sydney and Boone nervously stepped inside. They didn’t talk much during the ride over, not even about John’s miraculous recovery that day.

‘I woke up when the doctor arrived and walked to the door to let him in,’ was all he would say.

John took Boone’s bag to the back of the house and Boone followed. When John stopped abruptly in the hall Boone almost collided with him. “I want you to sleep with me,” John said, “but there’s a guest room if you don’t want--”

Boone hated that he made the other man ever doubt his feelings, and with the sun shining through the back door of the hall, he could see the scar on John’s temple and he hated himself more. He reached up and touched the pink skin and breathed, “I’m sorry.”

John dropped the bag and took Boone’s hand and moved it down to his chest, pressing it between both his hands. “Boone. I don’t want you to leave again, but I want—I want so much--”

Boone suddenly laughed, finally feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. “Jesus, John, just say you want to fuck me.”

***

Locke pushed in slowly, too fucking slowly and Boone thought he was being split in two. Lying on their sides he was going mad and he tried to pull away, not to stop, but to just pull John on top of him and get better leverage to push back.

John’s firm hand on his belly held him still against the rigid length demanding entrance.

So Boone’s hand flailed behind him, clutching slick skin as he tried to pull John in, but John caught Boone’s hand and moved it forward again. He put it on the bed spread next to Boone’s chest and then kissed his shoulder. Boone groaned in frustration and he tried to just rock back and forth, forcing the slippery cock to work its way in, but John wasn’t having that either. He swatted Boone’s hip, demanding submission.

“Fuck, John!”

“You made me wait…” John growled, the rest of the threat dangling between them.

“I know,” Boone conceded, he twisted around and cupped John’s face, trying to kiss whatever he could reach. He tried to relax and let John have control. “I know…”

John used the hand under Boone’s shoulder to hold Boone’s face there, neck painfully wrenched to face him and the other hand lifted Boone’s top leg, opening him for the hard thrust inside.

The air bled from his lungs and Boone struggled to keep his eyes open, watching John watch him, but the invasion was too much and he was lost.

Just as John wanted.

When John pulled out, Boone felt like he was being dragged through hell. And then claimed and whole again when John plowed into him once more.

***

Boone laughed a little as he shifted in the chair and John was sure he had to be sore.

“Okay?” John asked, sitting in the chair next to him.

“Definitely,” Boone replied, sighing as John tossed a blanket over Boone’s lap. It was getting cooler every day and as the sun went down each afternoon the wind blew a warning through the screen windows of the deck.

Boone’s head lolled lazily to the side and John loved the happy clear eyes smiling at him. It was the view he’d bought the house for.

Fin