|
The Crash of the Waves (Sequel
to Interrupted Tryst and A By Liritar Thranduiliell
Pairing: Sawyer/Sayid Rating: PG-13 Disclaimer: I don’t own Sawyer, Sayid, or anyone on Lost, however much I want to, and am now totally fucking the show canon. Finished this RIGHT before Sawyer’s episode, and decided to just pretty much ignore the whole show instead of changing it. *Grins* Summary: Sawyer broods. And broods. And broods some more. The angst is killing me.
******************************** Sawyer sat on the beach, his knees against his chest, unmoving. He stared blankly at the stars reflected on the water. The man released a soft sigh. He couldn’t figure out what the hell had come over him. He hardly knew who he was anymore. And he didn’t much like this new person he was becoming. The lack of control that he had over his life, his actions terrified Sawyer. Control was what he’d prided himself on, what he strived for in all situations. He had given up all that, and to who? He shook his head, worry standing out in sharp relief on his face. How had Sayid gotten that power over him? His gaze traveled back over the water. Fucking guys, that was nothing new. He’d been gay all his life. He’d learned pretty quick to keep it hidden; he’d had no wish to end up bruised and bloody in a ditch, or worse. Yeah, it might be different in the big city, where they had separate bars and stuff, but in his little southern hometown, that just didn’t happen. And when he’d finally gotten out of there, the secrecy had become so ingrained he couldn’t have told anyone if he’d wanted to. Yeah, his attraction to Sayid wasn’t the problem. It was the desperate strength of it, the part of him that was willing to do anything just to see the Iraqi smile at him. He shifted slightly, wincing at the pain in his ass. The part of him that had LIKED Sayid fucking him. He bit his lip. He could still feel the man’s body above him, could still hear his own voice, begging. Begging, not for him to stop, but for more. Sawyer closed his eyes. What was happening to him? He had only ever let himself be used like that twice before, many, many years ago. The first, well, he was willing to try anything once. The feeling of someone having that much control over him had been far too much for him to bear. The second, he’d been too drunk to think. He’d never, ever gotten that drunk again. He learned from his mistakes. Or, at least, he’d thought he had… Until now. Until Sayid. What the fuck was the man doing to him? He was changing. It wasn’t about sex anymore. He still wanted Sayid, more than he’d ever wanted anyone, but more than that, he just wanted to be near him. Just wanted to hear his voice, see that gleam in his eyes as he worked on his plans. He longed to gently brush the thick curls back from his face, creased with concentration. ‘Gentle,’ he thought with a sharp laugh. ‘That’s me. Fuck.’ That slow kiss, though he’d hidden it from Sayid, had affected him more than the admittedly wonderful hard, fierce ones. ‘And I even kissed that damn bite mark like a mother with a toddler’s scraped knee. Who the fuck am I turning into?’ He felt someone settle on the sand next to him. He moved his head just enough to see Locke, then focused on the waves again. “You love him.” It was a statement, not a question. He gave a mirthless laugh. “I don’t love nobody but myself, old man, never have, never will.” “What you tell yourself doesn’t alter what really is, Sawyer,” the other man murmured. Sawyer turned back to him to see that odd smile of his. “I don’t care what you think you know about me,” he scowled. “Why would I be in love with anyone?” His mind finally grasped what Locke had said. ‘Aw, SHIT!’ he thought in a panic. “Wait, ‘him?’ You think I’m a queer?” he spat acidly at the older man. “It sounded perfectly natural when I said it, didn’t it?” The man’s voice snaked through the chinks in his emotional shields. He couldn’t block him out. “Why lie to me? I wouldn’t tell anyone. I just want to help, Sawyer.” “No one wants to help me!” Sawyer snarled, jerking away from him. “Look, I’m an outcast. I LIKE being an outcast. I’d just rather it was on my terms, ya hear me, Captain Ammo?” Locke stood and took a step down the beach, his eyes traveling the line of the jungle. “It must be hard,” he said softly, “living with yourself while you’re living a lie.” He shook his head as he trekked towards the trees. “Oh, fuck off,” Sawyer muttered into his knees. “You think you know me? Ha!” He tried to shake it off, but Locke’s words cut deep. ‘Is the question really who I’m turning into? Or is it who I was? Maybe this is who I am, breaking out from that little cage I’ve locked myself into.’ He looked off again, just listening to the waves, unable to sort his nebulous thoughts.
|