CONSIDERATION

Author: Jaye (Copyright March 2005)

Title: Consideration, 1/1 (Final Version)

Codes: LOST Sawyer/Sayid NC-17

Disclaimer: Lost and all related characters and concepts are the
property of JJ Abrams et al. No infringement is intended or profit
made. This is NC-17 for adult themes, language and sex. If you aren't
interested (or aren't old enough), don't read it.

Archive: Not without permission, so please ask first. Please keep the
text (especially the disclaimer) intact.

Feedback: Comments both good and bad (especially suggestions for
improvement) are welcome. E-mail is reader8901@fastmail.fm

Summary: Sequel to "Reparation". Sayid gives Sawyer something to think
about.

Note: Set after the episode "Outlaws", but ignores the het pairings.

***************

Sawyer plopped down to sit on what passed for his bed with a disgusted
grunt, then tossed aside the battered box of smokes he was holding.
He'd spent the last hour straightening up the remains of his tent, but
the small space was still littered with piles of trampled boxes and
torn cloth and papers.

At least he had his tarp back, with its illusion of privacy. And there
weren't any more hoofprints. He'd actually wasted most of his time
since returning from the "hunt" sweeping the sand flat again. Removing
at least *that* reminder of the damn boar that had gotten the better
of him a few too many times the last two days.

He stifled a groan as he let himself slump. He'd washed up at the
caves before returning to Sand Dune Central. He was clean, but that
was about it. The cold shower (the only kind available on this twisted
"Survivor" episode of an island) hadn't done shit for his aching muscles.

He was sore from tramping through the jungle, not to mention being
trampled by a goddamn 800-pound boar with major attitude problems.

But there was no way Sawyer was going to go begging Saint Jack for
some meds. Antibiotics were one thing---he liked his limbs attached
and functioning, thank you, not all "Dawn of the Dead" with
gangrene---but hell would freeze over before he'd sit through another
one of Doctor Deadly Dull's lectures just for two freakin' tablets of
Tylenol.

But right now he was thinking maybe he should've tried to sneak some
from CaveCamp's stash before he'd moseyed on home.

"Are you busy?"

Sayid's voice startled Sawyer out of his funk, and he winced a little
as his shoulders stiffened at the interruption. "Don't you ever knock,
Ali?" he snapped. He was still in a bit of a snit over their last
conversation. The Iraqi's brown eyes had danced with ill-concealed
mirth---hell, not concealed at all, the guy actually came right out
and admitted he was tickled pink over Sawyer's predicament.

And maybe Sawyer should have been okay with that. After all, if this
had happened to anybody else, Sawyer surely knew *he* wouldn't have
stopped at a few cracks about boars planning camping trips.

But Sawyer was also still on edge about the whispers. He couldn't
believe he'd almost spilled his guts about them the other morning,
like Sayid was some kind of island Oprah.

He was also pissed about their...interactions...since doing the
horizontal mambo weeks ago. Sure, he'd walked back with Sayid that
day, and they'd actually been civil to each other since then.

But he'd been expecting more. What, he wasn't exactly sure, but
another dozen rounds of scorching sweaty jungle sex wouldn't have gone
unappreciated.

Or, given Sayid's rep as a sober, serious stick-in-the-mud, Sawyer'd
been bracing for a talk about their "relationship", such as it was.
Most of him mentally lining up sarcastic comebacks if things got too
Lifetime TV-movie, but a tiny bit just plain curious to see where
things would lead. And an even smaller speck hopeful.

But "things" had gone nowhere. Sayid had stuck to strictly business,
or the kind of small talk Junior could have listened in on without his
dad blowing a gasket. Conversations that had nothing to do with
writhing twisting sliding coming hard and hot and sticky. Or even
connecting on some Hallmark-card kind of level Sawyer figured Sayid
would be angling for.

It left Sawyer feeling like he had put himself out there---even if it
was just a little---and been left hanging.

He must've spent a little too long in Flashback City, because Sayid
invited himself in, sauntering over in that feline kind of way he had
when he wasn't in any kind of a hurry.

***************

Sayid settled onto a clear spot on the ground, careful not to upset
the small bowl he had carried from the caves. He tilted his head as he
regarded Sawyer, wondering where the American had gone when his
eyes---palm-frond green in the gloaming of the tent---had unfocused.
Sayid knew he could not read the other man's expression well enough to
tell even if the journey was a pleasant one.

He decided to break the silence. "I did not knock because I hesitate
to test the sturdiness of your repairs." He couldn't help the hint of
a chuckle from his next words. "After all, I would not want to do
anything to jeopardize your newly returned tarp."

The reaction was not what he had expected. Sawyer glanced away,
clearly uncomfortable, and muttered, "Yeah, well, maybe you should
just keep the hell out."

Sayid frowned as he silently acknowledged that he may be partly
responsible for Sawyer's rebuff. Sayid had spent the last few weeks
watching Sawyer, waiting for what he *thought* would be an inevitable
return to selfish redneck insufferability. But when Sawyer had
continued to be...friendly, Sayid realized the other man might be
sincere in his interest.

So Sayid had been forced to do some soul-searching. And some hard
thinking. He was keenly aware of his inexperience in this situation,
lost in uncharted territory. Unsure what he wanted from this
relationship---even *if* he wanted a relationship with a man. A man he
barely knew. A man who, he suspected, would always remain something of
a mystery, with Sawyer only granting glimpses of the truths that
flickered behind his shadowed eyes.

But Sayid understood veils, and shields, and secrets. He had more than
enough of his own. So he balanced uncertainties against the truth of
his attraction, calculated the risks of trust against the possibility
of a connection between them.

And he factored in the pleasures of the flesh. Memories of softness
and warmth in another world, another life, and the more recent shock
of hardness and heat and strength that matched his own.

When he finally figured out his answers, he admitted there were things
he needed from Sawyer. And realized that he did not know what Sawyer
might want of *him*.

So he was here to take the first step to finding out.

Sayid leaned forward a little to catch Sawyer's attention. "Kate told
me you had a rather rough time in your travels." He lifted the
container. "Sun used this mixture on me when I returned from Rousseau,
to ease muscle strain." He paused, then offered, "I thought perhaps
you could use such aid yourself."

He held still under Sawyer's scrutiny, as narrowed eyes bore into his.
And waited.

Finally, without a word, Sawyer shuffled over to sit on the edge of
the cushions, shrugging off his shirt and turning his back.

Sayid stood and paused a moment, just looking at the blond man. Sawyer
was, most of the time, a creature of edges and angles. The straight
slant of brows, narrow blade of nose, fierce slash or taunting smirk
of mouth. And from behind, Sawyer's body was the same, sharp clean
downward drop of shoulder, stiff column of spine.

He brushed his fingertips lightly along the taut ridge of muscle from
the top of Sawyer's arm to the base of his neck, and along the other
side. Felt the tension residing there. And wondered if this would
soften, into the ease of relaxation, of trust. Or perhaps the sprawl
of content.

And also wondered if he could coax forth Sawyer's smile, the one that
held more than a hint of mischief---and invitation.

Sayid stepped forward and knelt on the cushions, sliding into place.
He shifted until he was slightly behind the other man, his knees
bracketing Sawyer's jean-clad hips.

***************

Sawyer heard the rustling of cloth as Sayid settled behind him, and
figured the other man was removing his own shirt as well to keep it
clean in case of drips. Or as clean as it could stay in their
primitive conditions. Then he felt the brush of fingers once more
across his shoulders. This time the sensation was slick with Sun's
mixture, the scent of herbs hanging in the air.

He didn't know exactly why he'd decided to take Sayid up on his offer.
Sure, it was a good bet Sayid was as skilled at this as pretty much
everything else the annoyingly competent Iraqi attempted. But still,
Sawyer didn't even make a token effort to kick up a fuss first.

He was actually kinda surprised to see Sayid making a move. Yeah, it'd
only been a few weeks since they'd hooked up---but under pretty
bizarre circumstances. And a few weeks before *that* they'd been
whaling at each other in the sand in front of the still-smoking wreckage.

Sawyer could see how all that might be a little tough for a
first-timer in guy-on-guy whatever to process. It wasn't like there
was a rulebook or something. They all just made it up as they went along.

So yeah, maybe he could cut Sayid a break. Give the guy the benefit of
the doubt. Just this once.

He resisted groaning as Sayid began to massage sore muscles, the touch
of the slim hands strong and sure. Working oh-so-slowly along Sawyer's
shoulders and down his back, then up again. Sawyer's pain and
stiffness gradually gave way to blessed relief.

And, as the minutes ticked by, Sayid's touch also stoked a growing
arousal. A heat that lazily curled in Sawyer's stomach and spread
south. Sawyer's head dropped forward of its own accord. "So, how'd you
get to be Mr. Magic Fingers, anyway? Find your way under a few of
those desert nightgowns in your time?"

Sayid did not answer at first. He looked down, watched his own hands
working in the ointment. Their skins glistening brown on brown,
Sawyer's tan against his own darker bronze. "Not exactly. I arranged
to have some training. It...," he paused, but then continued quietly,
"It was important to me to know that my touch could bring pleasure, as
well as pain."

Sawyer blinked, surprised at the admission. Trust the wily Iraqi to
throw him a curveball just when his brain was beginning to go soft as
his dick got harder.

But what the hell was he supposed to say in response? "Yeah, well,
just for the record you got your money's worth. My cock's ready to
bust outta my jeans to get in on the action." He snorted, daring
himself to say it out loud. Of course he'd probably want to turn
around first, to see Sayid's reaction. And put said cock in range.
Just in case.

Sayid felt the muscles under his hands relax another degree, as Sawyer
pressed back into his touch. He decided to take that as a sign of
encouragement. He took a breath, cleared his throat, and said, "I have
something to ask of you, Sawyer."

He felt Sawyer immediately stiffen back up again. Sayid suspected it
was wariness; he would no doubt feel the same if the situation were
reversed. But he just continued to work, kneading the supple flesh. "I
do not know what you foresee happening between us, but I need your
word on something." He stopped a moment, his hands simply resting.
"That you will not let me be deceived."

"Huh?" Sawyer could tell from the tone this was important to the other
man, but he just didn't get it. At least he hoped he didn't, or else
he was going to be mighty pissed. "You think I'm gonna lie to you?"

Sawyer started to turn around, but was stopped by a sudden strong
grasp on his shoulders, holding him in place. Then he grunted as a
naked chest pressed against his back as Sayid slid closer, the
sprinkling of dark curls on the other man's torso prickling along the
length of Sawyer's spine. Sayid's arms wrapped around him, part
entrapment and part embrace.

"No. Upon reflection, I am not certain you have ever truly lied,"
Sayid answered as he dropped his chin to Sawyer's shoulder, ignoring
the slickness. He let his hands drift under Sawyer's forearms to
caress the other man's sides, tracing his ribs. He admitted, "You are
too smart, too subtle for that. But you do allow others to assume the
worst."

Sayid watched Sawyer's profile out of the corner of his eye as he
spread his hands over the tawny chest, fingers teasing beaded nipples.
"Like how you led us on about the inhalers. I do not want to have that
happen again." He sighed. "But I am far too quick to jump to
conclusions where you are concerned---and you are far too skilled at
pissing me off."

Sawyer choked back a laugh at that. He grinned and settled more fully
against Sayid, stretching out a little to ease the growing ache in his
groin. "So what exactly are you sayin' here, Sunshine?" And he
couldn't hold back the groan this time, as Sayid's hands obligingly
slid down to unfasten Sawyer's jeans, nails lightly grazing sensitive
skin. Sawyer's own hands were braced on Sayid's thighs, squeezing hard
muscles under cloth.

Sayid leaned forward a little more, pushing Sawyer's pants and shorts
out of the way, letting the other man's cock spring free. He ran his
fingertips along the straining length, relearning its texture and
heat. "I would like your word that you will not let me be deceived,"
he repeated, then nipped at Sawyer's neck. Pleased the blond head
tilted to give him better access. "That if I am wrong about you, you
will *tell* me instead of stringing me along like all the others."

He felt Sawyer shudder in his arms as his teeth returned to their
work. He licked the marks he'd made on Sawyer's neck, tasting the salt
of the other man's warm skin. Then Sawyer asked, "And you'll believe
me, just like that?" The doubt clear despite the huskiness of the
question.

Sayid's reply was a little breathless as well. "Yes, I will believe
you." Despite the gravity of his concerns, touching Sawyer was
arousing, and he enjoyed having the strong golden body under his
hands. He pressed closer, rubbed his aching nipples against Sawyer's
back, groaned as the other man's ass ground into his groin.

Sayid closed one hand fully around Sawyer's cock, heavy and pulsing in
his grasp. His thumb traced the crown, stretched to brush over the
slit. He slid his hand down to the base, then up. Again. Again. In a
rhythm as old as time.

Sawyer moaned, Sayid's touch making his blood sizzle and the sweet
tension build. His fingers dug into Sayid's thighs as he lifted his
hips into the slick sure grip, bucking to meet each stroke, the
pressure and heat in his body gathering in his core as he muttered a
mix of curses and praise. Gave himself over to the sensations as Sayid
continued to jack him off with one hand, while the other slid further
down to press that spot behind Sawyer's balls that made his eyes close
in bliss.

He felt the heat and strength of Sayid around him, moving with him. It
sent him over the edge, bright lightning flaring behind his eyes and
through his body, arching with a groan as his cum spilled onto Sayid's
hands.

As the fire in his blood slowly settled down to a simmer, Sawyer
became aware of Sayid's very hard cock pressing against his butt
through their layers of clothing. He reached back to fumble at the
other man's pants, blindly seeking the fasteners. Plotting the fastest
way to get Sayid naked and under him so he could take his time
deciding what to do with the aroused Iraqi. Or to him.

So he was surprised when Sayid slid away, carefully depositing Sawyer
onto the cushions before standing to gather up a stray bit of cloth
and wipe his hands. Coincidentally moving out of range as he did so.
Sawyer's brows drew together in confusion as he propped himself on his
elbows. "Get your ass back over here, pronto."

"No." Sayid's tone brooked no argument. "You heard me, Sawyer. This
goes no further until I have your word."

Sawyer decided to argue anyway. But on his own terms. He let his eyes
drift half-closed as he stared at the obvious bulge in Sayid's
trousers. Let his tongue slide out to lick his lips as he offered in
his most seductive drawl, "But why don't you just let me take care of
that little 'problem' of yours before we call it a night. I can always
give you my answer tomorrow."

For one long moment Sawyer saw pure lust glitter in the brown eyes,
but then Sayid shook his head and said, "Tempting, but no. I am
serious about this. You need time to consider your options, and I
think giving you the space to do so---without distraction---is in both
our best interests."

Well of all the arrogant---Sawyer thrust out his jaw, feeling
mutinous. But he was also aware that he wasn't making quite his usual
impression with his pants still shoved down and splayed open. "So let
me get this straight: Until I give this all-fired-important promise,
you're gonna play hard to get?"

Sayid smiled at the mix of annoyance and disappointment lacing the
other man's tone. He somehow felt...lighter than he had for a long
time. Buoyant. Hopeful. He grinned at Sawyer, who was still sprawled
in all his post-coital glory. "If it is any consolation, you are the
only person on this island who knows for certain I am not *impossible*
to get." He swiftly snatched up his shirt and bowl, and turned to leave.

For some reason Sayid's words, no matter how teasing, struck a chord
in Sawyer. He realized that before he could offer Sayid reassurance,
he needed some of his own. He sat up. "Sayid."

Sayid stopped immediately, spun and hunkered back down to Sawyer's
level. He knew that when Sawyer called his real name in *that* tone,
it was serious. "What?"

Sawyer leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, keeping his
gaze focused on the other man. "No bullshit: Why're you doing this,
really?"

Sayid frowned and dropped his eyes, trying to decide how honest to be.
Finally he looked back up with a shrug. "No one on this island likes
to talk about the past. And none of us knows the future. We truly live
in the present. It occurs to me that someday soon we are all likely to
run out of conversation." He met Sawyer's eyes. "You are someone I
would not mind sharing the silence with."

Sawyer didn't say anything as he watched Sayid go.

THE END