Like Father...
Jun. 30th, 2007 01:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kricketsTitle: Like Father...
Rating, WordCount: R, 390
Fandom - Pairings: LOST - Sawyer/Christian (& Sawyer/Jack)
Summary: Jack and his father have more in common than he'll ever know.
Author's Note: No beta. Wacky brainchild. Thank you Dayln.
Prompt/Challenge: Apparition at 100_situations, Challenge #51 In Loving Memory at lostficchallenge.
This is normal.
This is how they deal with their exposure, hiding under night’s broad wings. It’s not just that they’re stranded on this godforsaken island or that they’re fighting for their lives. It’s being always out in the open, followed constantly by eyes and questions. So they disappear within each other, behind the thin shelter of Sawyer’s tent, sinking in, salty skin slick with jungle heat, hips colliding, always rough and never tender, no time to be slow or deliberate.
No wonder, Sawyer thinks every time he remembers that he once knew Jack’s father. He’s surprised he didn’t realize it the minute they met. He looks like him, same lean, almost clumsy body. And now he knows that he fucks like him too. The doc tries hard not to be like his old man. But what Jack doesn’t know, and what Sawyer will never be able tell him, is that it was Christian who struggled not to be like Jack. It was his daddy who betrayed his own nature, not Jack.
He hears Jack’s low voice in his ear on one of those rare nights they stay together after, whispering about how he once saw his father on the island, alive, haunting him. Sawyer’s not surprised. It makes sense.
After all, you can never outrun your own shadow.
Sawyer remembers being followed into the bathroom in that bar in Sydney, and being pushed against the wall by strong, purposeful hands, hands like Jack’s. There were no kisses or soft words, only fucking, just like Jack.
“What’s your sin, son?” Christian asks afterwards, Sawyer still out of breath and recovering against the bathroom sink.
He laughs, thinking how sick and twisted it feels to be called son by this man. “You mean like, seven-deadly-sins sin? Or average, everyday, I-fucked-a-stranger-in-a-public-restroom sin?” he asks with a chuckle in his throat.
“Does it matter?” Christian asks as he tucks his shirt back into his pants.
“Wrath, I suppose,” Sawyer offers, lifting himself up and yanking up his jeans. Christian nods knowingly. “Yours?” he asks.
“I’m a fraud,” Christian offers without a moment’s hesitation. “Not in the traditional sense, you see, but in most other ways. In all the ways it truly matters.”
“That ain’t no sin,” Sawyer laughs again, reaches out, brushes a hand through Christian’s silver hair, damp with perspiration. “That’s just livin’.”
-fin
Rating, WordCount: R, 390
Fandom - Pairings: LOST - Sawyer/Christian (& Sawyer/Jack)
Summary: Jack and his father have more in common than he'll ever know.
Author's Note: No beta. Wacky brainchild. Thank you Dayln.
Prompt/Challenge: Apparition at 100_situations, Challenge #51 In Loving Memory at lostficchallenge.
This is normal.
This is how they deal with their exposure, hiding under night’s broad wings. It’s not just that they’re stranded on this godforsaken island or that they’re fighting for their lives. It’s being always out in the open, followed constantly by eyes and questions. So they disappear within each other, behind the thin shelter of Sawyer’s tent, sinking in, salty skin slick with jungle heat, hips colliding, always rough and never tender, no time to be slow or deliberate.
No wonder, Sawyer thinks every time he remembers that he once knew Jack’s father. He’s surprised he didn’t realize it the minute they met. He looks like him, same lean, almost clumsy body. And now he knows that he fucks like him too. The doc tries hard not to be like his old man. But what Jack doesn’t know, and what Sawyer will never be able tell him, is that it was Christian who struggled not to be like Jack. It was his daddy who betrayed his own nature, not Jack.
He hears Jack’s low voice in his ear on one of those rare nights they stay together after, whispering about how he once saw his father on the island, alive, haunting him. Sawyer’s not surprised. It makes sense.
After all, you can never outrun your own shadow.
Sawyer remembers being followed into the bathroom in that bar in Sydney, and being pushed against the wall by strong, purposeful hands, hands like Jack’s. There were no kisses or soft words, only fucking, just like Jack.
“What’s your sin, son?” Christian asks afterwards, Sawyer still out of breath and recovering against the bathroom sink.
He laughs, thinking how sick and twisted it feels to be called son by this man. “You mean like, seven-deadly-sins sin? Or average, everyday, I-fucked-a-stranger-in-a-public-restroom sin?” he asks with a chuckle in his throat.
“Does it matter?” Christian asks as he tucks his shirt back into his pants.
“Wrath, I suppose,” Sawyer offers, lifting himself up and yanking up his jeans. Christian nods knowingly. “Yours?” he asks.
“I’m a fraud,” Christian offers without a moment’s hesitation. “Not in the traditional sense, you see, but in most other ways. In all the ways it truly matters.”
“That ain’t no sin,” Sawyer laughs again, reaches out, brushes a hand through Christian’s silver hair, damp with perspiration. “That’s just livin’.”
-fin
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no subject
Date: 2007-06-30 05:54 am (UTC)Even better than the first time I read it.
As soon as I get over my fangirl-like squeeing..I will comment..
*deep breath*
Ohhhkay.
But what Jack doesn’t know, and what Sawyer will never be able tell him, is that it was Christian who struggled not to be like Jack
That part right there, gives me chills. So does that whole paragraph. Jack and his dad..so alike, they even fuck the same. Love it.
After all, you can never outrun your own shadow.
And that?? Just gives me more freakin chills! LOL So perfect.
So...while it may be a tidge bit pervy, I'm kinda in love with Sawyer and Christian and their bathroom sex. If only because Sawyer remembers it being just the way it is with Jack, with the no kissing or anything. Either way. GUH!
That ain’t no sin,” Sawyer laughs again, reaches out, brushes a hand through Christian’s silver hair, damp with perspiration. “That’s just livin’.”
PERFECT ending. I lurrrrve the image of Sawyer running a hand through his hair like that. Just love it.
KC!
I LOVE YOU!
And I love that you wrote this because its a gazilllion different kinds of awesome!
no subject
Date: 2007-06-30 06:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-30 06:28 am (UTC)*glomps you cuz you know the feeling's mutual*