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An Apology (sequel to The Crash of the Waves) By Liritar Thranduiliell and Veet Voojagig
Pairing: Sawyer/Sayid Rating: NC-17 Summary: Sayid examines his deeds and doesn’t like what he sees. Disclaimer:
If we really owned Lost or anything involved, we’d be in A/N: About this time is where we shift from canon: apparently Sayid decides NOT to go triangulating with Kate and Boone. *shrugs* Ah, well. This is more fun.
****************************************** He shifted his grip slightly on the wooden handle; it had slipped a bit between his sweat-slickened palms. His muscles tensed as he pulled back the axe then sent it swinging forcefully down into the log awaiting his stroke. He stuck to his task single-mindedly—arduous physical labor drove out uncomfortable thoughts. “Hey, Sayid, take it easy.” He looked up into Jack’s concerned eyes. “You’ve been working all morning,” the doctor continued. “Have you taken a break?” At Sayid’s negative gesture, he sighed. “You’ve got to take care of yourself. In this heat…” He shook his head and handed Sayid a bottle of water. “Rest.” “All right,” the Iraqi said reluctantly. He set down the axe and took a drink. “Thank you,” he added after a long pause. Jack smiled slightly. “Signal fire won’t do you much good if you kill yourself from exhaustion.” “True,” Sayid answered with a wry smile. He seated himself on the ground. “What brings you back here?” “Just getting some more of my supplies.” Jack sat next to him and swiped some sweat off his forehead. He gave a small sigh. “Sawyer was being a pain. Again.” Sayid looked away. “Did he seem out of sorts?” he asked softly. Jack snorted. “Doesn’t he always?” Smiling wryly, Sayid nodded. “I suppose he does. What did he do this time?” “He was flirting with Kate.” Sayid’s hand clenched around the water bottle. He gritted his teeth. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to relax. “You have no cause to worry,” he murmured. Jack glanced sharply at him. “What?” The Iraqi thought quickly. “He… Kate would never accept his advances.” “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” The doctor nodded. “Really, why would anyone?” ‘Because he is the most attractive man I’ve ever seen,’ Sayid thought. ‘And because beneath the persona he wears, there is an actual human being who can be kind and gentle, one who I would very much like to know.’ He bit his lip and refrained from answering. “And then there’s Boone,” Jack continued. “He’s always underfoot. I know he’s trying to help, but…” He shook his head. Sayid gazed at him out of the corner of his eye. “I feel quite sorry for the boy,” he said after a moment. “It must be rather difficult for him.” “What?” the doctor asked, his eyebrows drawing together. Giving Jack another sidelong glance, Sayid contemplated how much to tell him. Would it be better for the man to remain in ignorance, or would enlightening him help prevent another’s hurt? “He is young and unsure of himself,” he said eventually. “In addition, the person he seems to favor shows a marked preference for someone else.” Sayid smiled slightly. “As well as being completely oblivious to him.” Jack blinked. “He likes someone?” he asked. The Iraqi chuckled softly. “And that proves my point.” He gave Jack a significant look and continued. “Whose feet is he always underneath, my friend? Whose opinion and approval does he seek?” “I… I…” Jack’s eyes widened. “My God. You seriously think that he…” “It is quite obvious, Jack.” The other man shook his head. “What am I supposed to do about it?” he sighed, his shoulders slumping in confusion. Sayid placed a hand lightly on his arm. “That is your decision, Jack,” he said quietly. “But please, try to hurt him as little as possible.” “I… yeah.” The doctor stood suddenly. “I’ve got a lot to think about, Sayid. Excuse me.” He nodded in silence and watched Jack stalk away, nervously running a hand through his hair. He hoped he had done the right thing. With a sigh, he grabbed the axe and pulled himself to his feet. Perhaps he should not venture to involve himself in others’ romantic problems. He had quite enough on his own. Sawyer hadn’t spoken to him since he left last night, and Sayid had to admit that he couldn’t blame the man. What he had done—it was uncomfortably close to rape. Sawyer had said no. Adamantly and distinctly. And when Sayid had asked again, he hadn’t said yes. However it had felt at the time, no answer was not permission. He bit his lip, letting his eyes drift closed. He needed to do something. He needed to find Sawyer and explain… Explain what? What explanation was there? Apologize, then. Beg for forgiveness. His lips curled in a wry smile. Yes, he would do that. Sawyer mattered more to him than his pride. * * * * * * Sayid stood just out of Sawyer’s line of sight, watching him read. It astonished him just how much he enjoyed seeing this man, silently observing his every move and change of expression on his face. He shook himself out of his entrancement and hesitantly took a step forward, and another, stealthily making his way towards Sawyer’s chair. Sawyer’s head snapped up as his shadow fell across the man. “What the hell do you want?” he growled, his eyes dropping back to the page in front of him, half-hiding his face. “Can we talk, Sawyer?” he said softly. “Please?” “What do we have to talk about, Abdul?” he muttered. Sayid smiled sadly. “Many things. Please, come with me.” He held out a hand towards the other man. Sawyer’s fingers tightened around his book. “Look, Ali, I don’t want to talk. Just leave me alone.” “Sawyer, I…” He shook his head. “As you wish.” He turned and started walking away. There was a moment of silence, and then he heard the sound of feet behind him. He looked back to see Sawyer standing there, arms crossed. “I’ll listen. If it’s really important.” “It is.” He gestured towards the jungle. “Please, follow me. I am certain you don’t wish to be overheard.” “Whatever. Lead the way, soldier boy.” He stared coldly at Sayid. The Iraqi turned mutely and headed into the tress. He kept his eyes fixed on the path ahead of him, vainly attempting to quell his anxiety. He flicked his tongue across his dry lips. Finally, he found a small clearing and halted, letting Sawyer catch up. “So, Omar,” he drawled, “this is the bit where you tell me what the fuck you want, huh? Either that or reveal your damn secret plan to lure me out here and kill me. Now, which is it?” Sayid faced him and looked into his eyes. “I wanted to apologize,” he stated neutrally. “What I did to you last night was unconscionable.” His eyes dropped to the ground. “I only hope that you will be able to forgive me eventually. Until then…” He clenched his fist. “Until then, I will do what I can to make it up to you.” “Yeah, whatever.” Sawyer gazed coolly at him. “I don’t want to talk about last night, Ali. I want to forget it ever happened and for us to go back to hatin’ each other. That alright with you?” “I have never hated you,” Sayid said quietly. “I admit, I did not trust you at first, but there was never hate. Sawyer…” He licked his lips slowly. “I want you, Sawyer. I want you however I can have you. If I must give myself to you, so be it. If you wish me to get on my knees and beg, I will do that as well.” He quickly stripped his shirt over his and let his hands fall to his pants. “If you hate me, I can accept that. But please, Sawyer, do not forsake me. I’m yours; use me as you see fit.” “I don’t hate ya, Sayid,” Sawyer whispered. “I only wish I did.” He let his eyes close with a sigh. “I can’t do this shit. All this ‘motional stuff. I just can’t.” His eyes opened and he gazed at Sayid, his breath catching in his throat. “How can ya be this fuckin’ gorgeous, Abdul? What the hell are ya doin’ to me?” Sayid suppressed the rising wave of hope battering his heart. It was still far too soon for that. He stepped close to Sawyer, placing a hand on his cheek and his lips by his ear. “Then do not think of the emotions now,” he breathed. “Concentrate on the desire. We will work out the rest when the time comes.” Pulling back, he loosened his pants and stepped out of them. His sultry gaze bore into the other man. “Take me, Sawyer,” he purred. Without a word, Sawyer pulled the other man into his arms and attacked his mouth, slipping his tongue between his willing lips. He let a hand drop to Sayid’s ass, pulling him closer until every inch of their bodies was touching. Sighing softly, Sayid melted into his embrace. His hands explored the contours of the man’s chest, feathering over the fabric. With a low moan, Sawyer ripped the shirt over his head, exposing the flesh to Sayid’s questing fingers. They found his nipples, rolling them between thumb and forefinger, and Sayid pulled back from their searing kiss, letting his mouth take the place of his hands, which in turn fell to attack Sawyer’s pants. Sawyer’s fingers trailed through Sayid’s hair, stopping to rest lightly on the back of his neck. “Don’t worry, Sayid,” he whispered. “I won’t leave ya.” Sayid’s arms circled his waist, holding him tightly. He rested his head on Sawyer’s shoulder. He blinked back tears, struggling to strengthen his crumbling emotional walls. “What’s this, Ali? You cryin’?” Sawyer slid one finger along his jaw. “I am a trained soldier,” Sayid muttered. “I do not cry.” Sawyer gently grabbed his chin and tilted his head upwards. “Course ya don’t.” He bent forward, tongue flicking out to lap a salty drop from his cheek. “Us bad boys never do.” Sayid smiled slightly. “We. We bad boys.” He chuckled, gazing warmly into Sawyer’s eyes. “Aw, shut up.” He placed his hands on Sayid’s hips, his thumbs tracing slow circles on his bare flesh. “I know ya didn’t take off all that ta preach proper speakin’ at me.” He gave a cocky grin, though Sayid could sense the uncertainty behind it. “No, of course I did not,” he breathed, nibbling gently on Sawyer’s earlobe before continuing. “I did so with the sole intent of seducing you. Is it working?” He raised an eyebrow, dark eyes twinkling. Sawyer laughed, and Sayid felt his heart tug; it was not his usual, mocking laugh, but a genuine expression of enjoyment. He wished he could hear that more often. “Ya know, I do believe it is,” the man grinned. “Now, what are we gonna do ’bout that?” Sayid let his hands roam down Sawyer’s back. “I think,” he murmured, lightly running his fingers over the man’s ass, “that, first of all, you should join me in my undressed state.” “And then what?” he whispered coyly, unzipping his fly and letting his jeans drop to the ground. “You seem to have this all planned out.” “No, Sawyer. The rest is completely up to you.” “Well then,” Sawyer breathed as he slowly pushed Sayid’s unresisting form down onto the hard jungle floor, covering him with his broad body, “perhaps I should get busy.” He pressed his lips to Sayid’s cheek, his hands softly caressing the Iraqi’s shoulders, slowly moving down to his chest. Sayid arched into his touch. “Sawyer,” he whispered, his fingers threading through the man’s hair and drawing his head into a tender kiss. His eyes drifted shut as he let the sensations evoked by Sawyer’s hands and lips wash through him. He burned with need; yet he waited, letting Sawyer have control. Sawyer continued his steady assault, lingering as if trying to memorize every inch of Sayid’s flesh. The man’s lips brushed his throat as his fingers trailed down his stomach. It was intoxicating, infuriating, incredible; maddening, yet oh so wonderful… He moaned deep in his throat. “Sawyer, please…” His fingernails dug sharply into the man’s back. “Please,” he repeated, his voice rough with desire. “I need you.” “Oh, Sayid,” Sawyer breathed, his hand coming to rest on his thigh, “you are the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.” He gazed down at Sayid, the utter sincerity of in his eyes cutting through his soul like a knife. Keeping their eyes locked, Sawyer began to ease into his tight passage. Sayid drew in a shuddering gasp as the man filled him. It hurt, but he welcomed the pain; it meant that Sawyer was his. He hooked a leg over his hip, drawing him as close as possible. Heat flowed through him, and he moaned the other man’s name. “What do ya want, Sayid?” he whispered, rocking slowly against him. “Gentle and tender? Fast and rough? Somewhere in between? I can do it all.” “I… I do believe you can,” he finally managed to say. His heart pounded in his chest and his breath hitched. He shook his head slightly, gazing up at Sawyer. “I don’t—I don’t deserve such consideration.” “I’m not gonna have ya talk like that,” Sawyer growled, thrusting into him harder. “Now, answer the goddamn question.” Sayid groaned and wrapped his other leg around Sawyer’s waist, drawing him even deeper. Fire ran along his nerves. “I want you to stop asking questions,” he said roughly, “and just fuck me.” He pulled Sawyer’s head down into a fierce, hungry kiss, forcing his tongue between his lips and plundering his mouth without mercy. “You wanna be fucked?” Sawyer hissed. He shifted slightly then drove into Sayid forcefully. “Like that, huh?” A loud groan was torn from Sayid’s throat. “Yes. Oh, Sawyer, yes.” His eyes closed, and he abandoned all attempts of coherent thought. He lost himself in the waves of pleasure that spread over him, intensifying every time Sawyer hit that little spot inside him. Sawyer’s breathing grew heavy and sweat was running down his chest as he started moving faster, harder, fiercer. Sayid’s head rolled back, and he moaned wantonly, shamelessly, as the other man’s hand closed around his aching cock. It was all too much; he was quickly coming undone. Sawyer’s fingers slid up and down his erection, timed perfectly to match the rhythm of his masterful thrusts. Each movement sent thrills coursing through Sayid’s body like jolts of electricity. He gasped breathlessly, clawing at Sawyer’s back as his muscles tightened. Crying the other man’s name, he surrendered to the pleasure and let his orgasm sweep over him. “God,” he heard the other man groan as he gave a last, powerful thrust and collapsed on top of him. “Sayid, I—” He broke off with a sigh and rolled off of him. He shifted slightly to rest his head on Sayid’s arm. The Iraqi tenderly kisses his forehead and smiled. “Thank you, Sawyer,” he murmured. His fingers tucked an errant strand of hair behind the other man’s ear. “I—” Sawyer stopped and licked his lips. “For what, Abdul?” Sayid chuckled softly. “For… well, for not hating me, I suppose.” The man smiled. “How could I hate someone,” he murmured, running a finger up Sayid’s chest, “who’s as good a fuck as you are?” “Ah, aren’t you the romantic?” Sayid flicked a finger against his nose. Sawyer snapped his teeth at Sayid’s finger and grinned. “I can be romantic if I fuckin’ want to. Maybe I’ll show ya someday.” Sayid claimed his lips softly. ‘I will await that day with all eagerness, my love,’ he thought sadly. |