Title:  “No Words”
Author:  uberaeryn
Fandom:  ‘Lost’
Pairing:  Jack/Sawyer
No Spoilers
Rating:  Adults Only
 

No words, ever.

Not at night.

At night it was an almost silent collision of bodies, desperate and hungry, at times angry and brutal as they struggled against and with one another for escape, no words, just muffled groans and sighs while they came together hard and then ripped themselves apart, leaving one another breathless and alone.

During the day, the words remain unchanged. Exchanges of sneering, sarcastic remarks and snide asides, exasperating verbal battles that left Jack almost as exhausted as the non-stop tide of work necessary to keep them all alive until . . . . well, he wasn’t sure, anymore. Just stay alive, keep the rest of them alive, that’s all he knew now. Every day, stay alive, that was his only goal. Every day stay alive, so that at night he could make his way out into the jungle or down the beach and into a world of touch and taste and smell and sometimes pain but always pleasure, always, and no words.

The words, during the day, remain unchanged.

The looks, however, did not.

Jack would glance up from whatever he happened to be doing to see Sawyer staring at him darkly, eyes full of promise of what would happen when night fell, and Jack would stare back, skin suddenly alive and on fire, and his eyes would travel the length of Sawyer’s body, making his own promises. And then Sawyer would show just a flash of a smile, his eyes heavy-lidded and smoky, and he would lean back on his elbows and fling one leg out wide, tugging at the crotch of his jeans and drawing Jack’s attention to his hard-on. Jack would watch, feeling himself harden in response and feel Sawyer’s eyes on him like the ghost of the actual touch of his hands warm and rough on Jack’s body.

Jack would set his jaw and do whatever it took to get through the rest of the day, meeting Sawyer’s eyes one final time with another gaze filled with promise, and the hint of a smile on Sawyer’s face would fade to be replaced with a brief look of need and desire before the walls came back up and the same tired words were spoken yet again.

Jack was unsure why, exactly, it had started, or how. All he knew was that one night, weeks ago, he’d set out on the path to the clearing east of the caves and had come upon Sawyer, leaning against a tree. Jack had stopped, arms crossed and staring, and Sawyer had moved slowly and languidly until he was standing in front of Jack, arms crossed, mimicking Jack’s pose, his head tilted to the side as he regarded Jack mockingly, smirking. Then one of them, Jack still wasn’t sure which, perhaps both, had moved, and Jack had found himself flat on his back on the floor of the jungle with his hands in Sawyer’s hair, fighting back groans of stunned pleasure as he had fucked Sawyer’s hot, wet mouth.

It had happened every night since then. It was almost always urgent and sometimes rough, there were marks all over both their bodies from hands and mouths. Rarely, it had been slow, languid, Jack tasting Sawyer, salt and sea and earth, touching him all over, and Sawyer had responded in kind, leaving Jack dizzy with the pleasure of it. The days after those interludes were the most difficult, the verbal exchanges nastier, as if they both felt they’d come too close to actually touching each other in a way that was more than physical and it was now necessary to make sure both understood that barrier was still there.

No words, those were the rules, unspoken, of course, and mutually agreed upon. No words in the night, and no touch of mouth upon mouth. To kiss was as intimate as speaking and as such was not allowed. They had been coming together every night for over two months and had never kissed.

Jack found himself wondering more and more of late what it would be like to kiss Sawyer. He’d tasted every inch of Sawyer’s body, but never his mouth. During the day he would find himself staring at Sawyer’s mouth, and Sawyer would stare back through the curtain of his hair, rubbing at his bottom lip, his expression unreadable.

Jack wanted to, but he didn’t dare. To kiss Sawyer might mean losing him altogether and Jack was frightened when he let himself think about it, about how much the idea of losing Sawyer hurt.

***

“Little help, here?”

Jack looked up and frowned. “Get down,” he said, motioning for Sawyer to kneel between his thighs and shaking his head in exasperation at the dirtied and bloodied rag Sawyer had pressed to his cheek. He grabbed the rag out of Sawyer’s hand and tossed it aside so he could see the wound and then jumped slightly in surprise when Sawyer’s gripped his knees firmly to prop himself up, large warm hands against his skin. Never had they touched during the day and Jack found it unsettling. He did his best to ignore it and focused on the wound on Sawyer’s face.

“How’d this happen?” Jack asked, his hand gripping Sawyer’s jaw and tilting his head so he could see the cut on Sawyer’s cheek more easily.

“Tryin’ to shave,” Sawyer muttered, wincing as Jack poked and prodded.

“Shave? With what, a machete?” Jack said, rinsing the cut with water and then dabbing it with the barest minimum of alcohol and then cursing as Sawyer’s fingers dug into his knees. “Fuck, Sawyer, watch it!”

“Fuck, yourself,” Sawyer grumbled. “With a knife. Slipped. Ow!”

“Ow, yourself!” Jack barked as Sawyer’s fingernails buried themselves in the flesh of Jack’s knees. “Watch it, I don’t know where you’ve been.”

“Bastard,” Sawyer muttered, his hands sliding higher up Jack’s thighs and underneath the legs of his shorts. “And you know exactly where I’ve been,” he whispered, casting a sideways glance at Jack, who still had a firm grip on his jaw.

Jack met his eyes and inhaled deeply, confused, his blood rising. They didn’t talk about it, ever, no words, and they never touched each other during the day, those were the rules. Except, apparently, Sawyer had decided for some reason to change the rules, and now all Jack could think about was Sawyer’s mouth now just inches away from his own. “Asshole,” Jack said distractedly. “This is deep. I can’t suture it, there’ll be a scar.”

“Whatever. Just adds to my rakish charm,” Sawyer said, scowling as Jack wiped at the cut and started bandaging it.

“I’ll want to watch it for infection,” Jack said, finishing up, and when he was done he found he was still gripping Sawyer’s jaw, still staring at Sawyer’s mouth.

“You do that, Doc,” Sawyer whispered, and his hands slid up higher on Jack’s thighs, fingertips brushing against the sensitive spot on the inside of the thigh where leg met hip, the place he knew, after their time together, made Jack writhe in arousal, the place that even now bore the marks of Sawyer’s lips and teeth. He was making it difficult for Jack to breathe and before Jack could stop himself his thumb was ghosting along Sawyer’s lower lip and he watched, heart pounding, as Sawyer’s eyes closed and his face softened and his tongue darted out to slide wetly against Jack’s thumb.

Jack shuddered, breath coming quickly, stunned by the surge in his blood. He had claimed and had been claimed by Sawyer innumerable ways over the past two months, heart stopping acts of physicality, but none of that compared to what he felt now, in broad daylight, Sawyer between his thighs and his fingers now brushing lightly along Jack’s cock as he drew Jack’s thumb into his mouth and started sucking. Jack watched in aroused fascination, his other hand sliding into the hair on the back of Sawyer’s head.

“Fuck, Sawyer,” he whispered, another rule broken, but Sawyer stayed, kept playing Jack’s thumb with his tongue and suddenly Jack felt desperate, and he pulled Sawyer close and put his mouth on Sawyer’s ear. “Please, Sawyer,” he whispered, tracing the outline of Sawyer’s ear with his tongue. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful, please . . .”

Sawyer stiffened, letting go of Jack’s thumb and Jack sighed in disappointment, knowing he’d gone too far, and he rested his forehead against Sawyer’s cheek and waited for him to run, leave him for breaking the rules.

“Please what, Jack?” Sawyer whispered, staring at him sideways, grey-blue eyes gone almost black and Jack blinked in surprise, never had Sawyer called him by name, and encouraged now he found his mouth was sliding along the whisker-roughened skin of Sawyer’s jaw.

“Please,” Jack whispered as his mouth neared Sawyer’s. “Please, please, please . . .”

He paused, lips poised at the corner of Sawyer’s mouth, and he waited, heart and body aching, and then suddenly Sawyer turned into his arms, his arms sliding around Jack’s neck and his mouth capturing Jack’s, wet and warm and inviting, and Jack groaned and wrapped his arms around him and pulled Sawyer tight against him, tongue delving deeply and tangling wetly with Sawyer’s, and Sawyer made muffled noises of pleasure against Jack’s lips as they licked and sucked and nipped at one another, and then Jack groaned in disappointment when Sawyer tore himself away and stood.

Jack sighed, head bowed, clasping his hands and resting his elbows on his knees.

“Feel like takin’ a walk, Doc?”

Jack’s head whipped up and he stared at Sawyer, whose eyes were open and unguarded and filled with all the uncertainty that Jack himself felt, and without waiting for an answer Sawyer turned and started walking and Jack followed, and they were barely under the cover of the jungle when they collided again, in the daylight, mouth searching out mouth and whispering words, different words now, words that made Jack’s blood and body and heart sing, words upon words upon words.

***

End