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A Quid Pro quo

A story of qui pro quo

It started around sunset, when she'd stuck her head inside his tent and announced, "It's carte blanche time!" He'd promptly rolled his eyes and told her to fuck off, to which she smiled sweetly and made a tiny pig snort.

"Fine." God, he knew better than to make deals with women. "So what's your poison?" "My pick of the liquor cart." She hadn't said it. Oh no, she'd brought Saint Jack along, and he seemed to think he could call the shots. On her carte blanche. Jesus H. Christ. "As I recall, Freckles, your carte blache don't extend to island surgeons." He stood up slowly and stared down Jack, daring him to try and take advantage of their bargain. "I was invited." He smirked at Sawyer, and it looked vaguely familiar. "I don't give a shit if you were given an engraved invitation, Cowboy. This here ain't a fucking bar and I ain't servin'." Before Jack could open his mouth to fight back, Kate had already brushed past them both and started rooting through his stash. "It's whatever I want, Sawyer." Her back was to him as she rummaged through one of his suitcases. "And if I want you to share with Jack, you'll just have get over yourself and play nice." When she'd straightened and turned back around, her arms had been loaded with bottles. And everything had gone downhill from there.

They hadn't wanted to go somewhere else besides his tent, much to his chagrin. Nooooo, they had to stay there, cramped together in the dying daylight around his giant flashlight, his arm too close to hers and his knee to close to Jack's. He wasn't normally a claustrophobic person, but this was making him breathe a little too hard. He'd had two bottles gone before either one of them had opened theirs.

It'd been her idea to bring up "I Never" again. She'd been about two or three Schmirnoffs into the evening when she'd announced to Blackjack that Sawyer had taught her a new drinking game. She smiled a lot more when she got tipsy; a giggle actually slipped out as she informed Jack that "Sawyer wore pink in the eighties! Isn't that awesome!?" He'd been ready drop kick their asses out the fucking door when Jack actually gave him a very lopsided grin and drawled, "Really?" Well. Fuck. He figured they could stay a little longer. Now the empty bottles litter the sand around their bare feet. She's somehow ended up with her head in Jack's lap and her legs propped across Sawyer's chest, the three of them a slightly smushy pile of inebriated limbs. She'd giggled again when he'd stripped off his shirt, heckling him for being an exhibitionist. "Dammit, but it's fuckin' stuffy in here," he'd whined, throwing it at her. "You just don't wanna admit you like lookin'. "He'd swayed in close, his nose bumping into hers, then leaned back and let his eyes drift to Jack's. With one hand, the Holdem Doc yanked his shirt over his head and threw it Sawyer. Kate giggled again. And it so it was that they're now half naked, still sipping from various assortments of booze, still playing the same fucking game. So far he's discovered that, among other things, Kate likes hot tub sex and Jack's gotten head at a Bryan Adams concert.

She grins and rubs her back against Jack's chest. He closes his eyes slowly, his head rolling to one side, and he bites his lower lip. Sawyer sees his chance and swallows. Hard. "Okay, Big-Shot." Her voice is a sing-song lilt as she sits up and leans toward him; he sees the way Jack's eyes never leave her. His heart is pounding way too hard. "How's this one?" She is just close enough to slide her tongue along the edge of his mouth. He smells heat and alcohol and sex. "I've never kissed a man." "Aw, Freckles." He nips sloppily at her chin. "We've already done that one, ‘member?" "Yeah." She kisses his cheek, tongue scrapping lightly against his stubble. "And you didn't drink." "So?" He sucks at her earlobe, pulling back just a bit to see if Jack's watching. He is. It makes Sawyer's heart beat that much harder. "So...I want you to drink now." He laughs, a genuine laugh, his hands skimming over her bare arms. "And how you gonna do that, Sweetness? Ya gonna make me bluff?" "Nope. I'm gonna make you kiss Jack." They are both too far gone to really freak out. But he still sits back and looks at Jack, who stares back him, a slightly blank look his face, like he can't quite process what Kate has just said. He doesn't want to concentrate too hard on the way Jack's eyes seemed to go very dark in the dim light. He feels the throbbing of his pulse all way through the tips of his fingers. "Okay." Jack speaks first, and that gives him a jolt. He still doesn't quite trust himself to speak; he doesn't know what the fuck will come out. Kate scoots to one side, looking far too pleased with herself as Jack slowly gets to his knees, his chin tipping up the tiniest bit in a slightly defiant, slightly smug gesture. Like he's daring Sawyer to back down.

Sawyer shakes his head. "Don't get all high and mighty on me, Doc," he murmurs right before bridging the gap between them and thrusting his tongue deep into his mouth, his eyes closed tight, his hands blindly reaching out to grab his shoulders. He doesn't want to think about what he's doing, how hot he tastes, how that little growl Jack just let slide makes him suddenly so fucking hard, holy shit...

He doesn't even realize it's his hand that's quickly shoving its way into Jack's jeans, sliding around his cock holy fucking Christ and giving it a smooth, tight squeeze. It elicits a sharp oh shit god from Jack against his mouth, and Jack quickly sheds his jeans, but never ends the kiss. He bites Sawyer's lower lip and sucks hard, shocking the living shit out of him at the aggression that's suddenly pouring of the Doc. Sawyer grips him harder, twisting his wrist as he slides his fist up to the head, rubbing his thumb across the slick tip. Jack groans into his mouth, thrusting against him, and through the alcoholic, lust-filled fog, Sawyer thinks he just might pass out.

"Easy, Cowboy." His voice is husky and soft as he breaks the kiss and increases the tempo of his hand. They're almost chest to chest, Jack's hot, damp pants skittering over his skin, making him shiver. He flicks his gaze over to Kate. She's in the corner, nibbling her thumb and watching them with wide, dilated eyes. All three of them are panting. He can't decide what makes him harder; the sight of her pressing her thighs together in voyeuristic agony or the way Jack clenches his jaw as he swears again, baring his teeth. "You're really fucking enjoying yourself...aren't you?" he pants harshly, his dark eyes darting to Sawyer's mouth and then back up. "Immensely." He's never heard Jack curse until tonight. Maybe it's the booze, maybe it's him...he lets himself think the latter as he kisses him again, this time with more force and heat as he opens his fly one-handed and shoves his jeans to his knees. The hand around Jack keeps brushing by his own steel-hard dick as he heads into the final stretch fucking Christ oooh fuck and he jerks, causing all sorts of delicious sounds from deep within Jack's throat. "You want it, dontcha?" He growls it into Jack's mouth, taking his cock in his other hand and rubbing it against the head of Jack's. "C'mon, Doc, am I gonna hafta make ya beg?" "Fuck you, Sawyer." Next thing he knows, Jack shoves his hand out the way and is grabbing Sawyer's dick and is squeezing, pulling, sliding, all at once and fuck his hand is so goddamn smooth and hot ah god He's always prided himself on endurance. But alcohol makes him weak and way, way too horny. He drops his arms over Jack's shoulders, forgetting all about the need to make Doc squeal like baby and letting himself thrust long and hard into Jack's perfect hand, a hand other than his own for once, and that's probably what makes this whole thing so hot. Has to be. He drops his head forward, hair falling into his eyes, and bites his neck, laving the damp skin with his tongue. His muffled groans blend into one with Jack's own pants and rough sighs.

Jack's arm slips around his back and his nails dig into Sawyer's shoulder blade. He presses his lips to the skin just under his left ear and his voice is a low rumble. "For once, you're gonna do what to tell you." Then he grips Sawyer's dick tight and gives it a deep, solid squeeze, like he's been giving him hand jobs for years. "Now you fucking come." "Huh...shit." Sawyer's voice breaks and then his eyes close as he does exactly what the good doctor ordered. He doesn't want to, doesn't want Jack to know how badly he wants it, but oh fuckin' Christ he does, he so, so does, it's so fucking good and he so fucking needs this like nobody's damn business. He grabs onto Jack's shoulders and violent thrusts into his hand, coming hot and quick against Jack's stomach.

He slumps momentarily against his chest, feeling slightly invaded and drained. He feels Jack's shoulders shake. He's laughing. "Does this, like, make you my bitch or something?" Jack giggles against his temple. "'Cause I doubt even Boone's got it this good with Locke." "You can fuckin' go to hell." His voice is hoarse and he still does not have the energy to move. But Jack's not making him, either. Finally, he lifts his head and checks on Kate, who is still watching them with intense fascination and heat. Instead of her thumb, she's chewing her lip, looking as if she'll explode if someone so much as touches her. He manages to shove himself off Jack, only to sink to the sand and slowly kick off his jeans. He lays back, completely naked, and looks at her upside down. "You need somethin', Freckles? You like playing the game" She nods, her eyes never quite making it past his waist, and she starts to crawl across the sand to them. She goes to Jack first. "Hey!" Sawyer whines again. "You need to recuperate." She's all breathy as she slides her hands up Jack's chest and pulls herself flush against him, kissing him deep and wet as her hips grind against his bare cock. He falls back onto the sand with her on top, his hands cupping her ass and assisting her dry thrusts, her little mewling sounds filtering the air.

Sawyer just lies there, watching as the two of them fumble to rid her of her pants and shirt before taking up where they left off. He knows she's right, but as he lies there, not saying a word, just watching the way those long fingers of his cup her breast and tease at her clit, winding her tighter and tighter, he unconsciously feels his own hand skim over his dick. He discovers recuperation time is over. Jack is starting to sink into her as Sawyer comes up behind her, pressing his chest and his newly regenerated cock against her backside. She gasps and begins to freeze, but he nuzzles his chin against her hair and reaches around to cup one of her tits. "Ssh. Keep goin', darlin', it's your turn." He gives her nipple a tiny pinch at the same time he carefully slides the tip of his cock along the crease of her ass. He feels her tense, but he's at least done this part before. He brushes the hair back from her neck and licks her there, his tongue leaving a hot, moist trail to her jawline, where he places open-mouth kisses. She is starting to thrust again, Jack's hands holding her steady by the waist, her ass arching back into Sawyer's dick with each stroke. Her mouth goes slack and she's mumbling incoherent swearings.

Sawyer glides his hand down her soft stomach and into her curls, wetting his fingers with her moisture. He feels Jack inside her, the thickness of him sliding in and out, and he lets himself look into Jack's eyes as he lightly circles his thumb and index finger around the base of him, so slick and hot. Jack's throat bobs as he swallows hard, eyes drifting shut as his teeth clench. The heel of Sawyer's hand presses against her clit and she whimpers, swiveling her hips against him as well as Jack's cock deep inside her. She grabs his wrist and holds him there, and he sees the tiny quirk of Jack's mouth, like he's pleased she thought to do it. The two of them are grinding against the pressure of his hand and fingers and he's all but forgotten the reason he'd put his hand there to begin with.

He figures that she's wet enough, so he curls his other arm around her waist and shoves deep into her, his entry gained fairly easily. Her head falls back against his shoulder as she gasps again, louder this time, and she reaches back for him, pulling his head down for a slow, heated kiss, their tongues sliding in time to the chorus of thrusts. He knows Jack is watching them, knows he feels left out, so he isn't surprised when Jack suddenly sits up and takes Kate's face in his hands, kissing her with a fierceness Sawyer secretly envies. Their rhythm is getting quicker, tighter, and he's deep enough that he can feel their trinity of heat wrapping around him like a moist blanket, almost suffocating him. He looks up and sees Jack watching him, watching him as he kisses Kate and thrusts into her and against his hand. Christ he doesn't understand what the fuck is going on, it's only carte blanche right, I've never kissed a man, oh fucking hell

Sawyer comes first-for the second time that night, followed by Kate, then Jack. He pulls out of her and collapses on the sand, not looking at either one of them. Kate slowly gets to her feet and starts to dress, while Jack remains still. When he finally has his breath back, he uses what's left of his strength to put his jeans back on. He can't tell if he needs to pass out or puke. Or both. Then a bottle is shoved in his face. She's giggling again. Jesus. After all that. "Drink up, Cowboy." Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jack roll over and reach for his pants. He throws back the whole thing in two gulps.

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