ficinabottle

Title: Space
Author: foxcub
Pairing: Sawyer/Kate
Rating: let’s just say NC-17 and leave it at that, shall we?
Spoilers: much, much Outlaws goodness
Disclaimer: Yeah. I wish.
Summary: an epilogue to “I Never”
Archive: Absolutely, just lemme know!
A/N: Seriously, I need to put

halfdutch on a beta payroll. Dude...you rock :-D

She’d heard him whimper.

As the fire died out and her eyes started to droop, she’d heard him whimper in his sleep. She knew he’d passed out a little earlier; his soft snores had blended into a nice chorus with the strange night noises of the jungle, and she’d laid there across from him on the ground, listening to his breathing and wondering if he’d ever even tried to be in love.

‘Whimper’ was such a weak word, but it wasn’t a sigh or groan. It was small and quiet, a muffled sound from deep in his chest. Like he hurt.

She sat up slowly and waited to hear it again.

There. This time she swore she heard, “Stop.”

His voice was higher pitched than normal, and it broke on the edge of that one word.

She crawled on her hands and knees across the few feet separating them, hesitant to get too close. Her heart pounded just a bit; she knew she wasn’t meant to be hearing this.

He was on his side facing the fire, one arm tucked under his head, the other folded tight into his body, his hand clenched in a fist against his shirt; she watched as it flexed in time with his breathing.

When he cried out again, this time an incoherent jumble of several shades of sadness, she leaned over him and delicately laid her hands on his shoulders.

“Sawyer--”

“No!” He jerked awake, his arm slapping her away. Then he shook himself, panting. “W-what’re you doing?”

She made sure to put just the right amount of distance between them. The way he liked it. “I…you were dreaming, I think. Or having a nightmare.”

His eyes narrowed as his breathing slowed. “So…which one was it?”

She paused, knowing somehow that he didn’t want her answer. “Nightmare.”

He sighed and started to turn over, away from her. She reached out and grabbed his elbow.

“Do you have those often?”

He looked over his shoulder at her. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Not really. I don’t.”

“Then you lead a carefree life, Freckles.”

Had she not felt the tiny shiver rush through his arm, she would’ve left him alone without further discussion. Instead, she curled up beside him, chest to back, taking in the warmth radiating from his skin. She kept her hands at her sides.

“What the hell do ya think you’re doin’?” His eyes had never left her.

“And here I thought you liked female contact.” She’d heard the absence of sarcasm in his tone; he didn’t really mind. All bark, no bite, as usual.

“You weren’t invited.” He laid his head back down, and she was very aware of how close her mouth was to the bare spot where his neck met his shoulder.

She slowly licked her lips. “Yeah, well, I’m a rebel. Deal with it.”

He snorted softly. “Whatever.” His body shifted slightly, but not away from her. “Go back to sleep, Freckles. Have pretty pony dreams.”

“I never liked ponies. I got stepped on by one as kid. Broke my toe and everything.”

She could hear him smile. “No Disneyland and a fear of ponies. Jesus, you’re a sad story.” His hand came to rest on his hip, almost unconsciously.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” She hesitantly ran her index finger over the bruised nail on his pinkey. She had no idea if it was from the torture session or some previous injury, but she didn’t ask.

His back expanded on a sigh. “You shouldn’t be in the boys’ camp.”

She took her hand away. “Didn’t think you minded.” Her breath ruffled the hair around the base of his neck.

“You’re too hot and I need my damn space.” But he didn’t sound angry.

She wasn’t going anywhere. She felt warm and content and relaxed right where she was, spooned against him on the jungle floor; she’d grown to like being in his space.

“So…all those one night stands you’ve had…” Her pulse drummed a little faster. “Did you ever stay for very long afterwards?”

“You askin’ if I ever cuddled, Freckles?”

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

He was silent for a long moment. Then he sighed, yet it was without regret. She didn’t know why that made her just the slightest bit happy.

“Nope…never did. I’m a busy guy, with people to see and places to go. Cuddlin’ time was never penciled into my date book.”

“Your little black book, you mean.”

His head rolled back and he grinned at her, their noses nearly touching. “Aw, you jealous, Sweet Pea?”

She just smiled. “Are you jealous of Jack?”

The dimples deepened. “I’d tell ya, but then I’d hafta kill ya.”

Instantly, he knew he’d fucked up. She saw him close his eyes briefly and that little muscle in his jaw tick.

He was actually sorry for saying something hurtful.

She was fascinated. So fascinated, in fact, that she kissed him.

It was soft, quick, the slightest brush of lips. When she pulled back and opened her eyes, he was looking at her with the saddest gaze.

Her heart gave a tiny jerk. “Why do you do that?” she whispered, not meaning for her voice to be so delicate.

“And what’s that?” His eyes closed as he laid his head back on his arm. Away from her.

She sighed. “I kissed you this time because I wanted to.”

There was tension in his spine. He said nothing.

Then, “Why?” She almost didn’t hear it, the word was so faint.

It was little wonder he’d never been in love, she realized. He couldn’t let himself believe he’d be loved in return.

She didn’t pity him. No, she knew better.

But she did ache for him, and that was probably worse.

Her eyes squeezed tight, she kissed him softly on the warm patch of skin just under his ear, her hands sliding beneath the back of his shirt to play along the hard lines of his shoulder blades. His faint shiver made her pulse turn fast and hot in her throat.

“Freckles…,” he sighed, his voice suddenly a notch deeper. “Don’t…”

“Don’t, what?”

A thin sigh. “If this is just…it was just a fuckin’ nighmare--”

“Shh.” She ran the tip of her tongue along the edge of his jaw, her nose nuzzling his cheek, coaxing him to respond. When he didn’t move, she raised herself up onto her elbow and skated her fingertips over his side and across his smooth stomach. His skin grew hotter the further down her hand explored; she heard him huff out a sharp breath as she traced a light pattern where his ab muscles disappeared into his jeans.

She knew he possessed the ability to hurt her; she’d known that since the moment he’d yanked her and her gun arm to him in the jungle, a moment that seemed so long ago. All smirks and tangible, dirty charm; he wasn’t the keeper of hearts.

But that wasn’t the same man who chased a boar into the darkness out of some desperation to heal himself. Who couldn’t seem to kiss her without looking like he was on the verge of dying.

With a flick of her wrist, she opened his fly and slid her hand deep, where she finally found his response. He was all hard, silken heat; she closed her fingers around the base of him and gently squeezed.

“*Fuckin’ shit*." He gave up the fight, falling against her as he shoved his jeans to his knees. His hand came back up to cover hers in a hard grip, telling her exactly the pressure and rhythm he liked best. She was a quick study, and within seconds his fingers fell away in favor of tangling in her hair to bring her lips to his. He ate at her mouth like a starving man, his tongue thrusting deep into the hollows of her cheeks in time to the thrusts of his cock against her hand.

“I remember how you taste,” he growled softly, pulling at her lower lip with his teeth. She sighed a moan into his mouth as her thumb spread the hot moisture gathering at his tip, suddenly realizing that she selfishly didn’t want him coming in her hand.

He gave a sharp protest when she pulled away, but then he watched as she quickly shed her pants, shirt, and finally bra. He head fell back onto the ground and he looked at her like…like she wasn’t real.

She leaned over him and picked up his right hand, closing the fingers over her breast. A tiny, chest-deep moan escaped him.

“*This* is a *good* dream,” she whispered. “And you should have them more often.” Then she swung her leg over his hip and carefully took him into her body, letting him fill the void that had been present there for God knew how long.

His teeth clenched. “Damn straight,” he hissed, and she gasped when he suddenly sat up, his tongue laving at her painfully tight nipples. She felt her mouth go slack as his hips did small, circular thrusts, grinding the perfect amount of friction against her mound. He was so very deep; she ground back against him, her nails digging into the skin along his spine, her damp cheek scraping against the stubble of his chin. His hot, rough pants filled her ears as he held her to him, chest to chest, his hands alternating between gripping her ass and splaying across her back. Through the red haze she felt hesitant tenderness in every other touch, the subtle rawness of need and acceptance.

She swallowed hard and brought her arms up to cradle his head in her hands. Her kiss was nearly oblivious to the heated movements of their bodies; it was slow, achingly deep, and real. Like the first kiss.

She felt his hands flex against her back, and he broke away, looking into her eyes with something very akin to awe and fear.

“Kate…” Then he bit his lip, screwed his eyes shut, and came long and hot.

She was right there with him.

Moments later, as they lay damp and panting on the ground, he carefully pulled his jeans up and reached across her naked body for her clothes. He handed her her bra first, not saying a word.

An odd lump rose into her throat as he helped her dress. She couldn’t look at him.

When he was finished, she started to get to her knees, to go back to her spot at the girls’ camp. His hand gently closed around her wrist and he whispered, “What’s the rush?”

The lump threatened to choke her as she raised her eyes. She saw the faintest shadow of a dimple.

She didn’t have the strength to resist as he tucked her back against his chest, his arm resting firm and warm across her stomach.

His breath was soft and content against her hair. “Sweet dreams, Freckles.”

And somewhere in her dreams that night, there were ponies.

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