Since you're gone my empty arms have nothing left to hold

Title: Outside Looking In
Rating: NC17
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Boone, Sawyer
Words: 701
Warnings: rimming, voyeurism.
Summary: where Sawyer is innocently taking a walk and stumbles over something he really wasn't expecting to see. Ever.
Spoilers: set in S1 and utterly AU, so virtually spoiler-less.
Disclaimer: if Lost was mine, we'd totally have seen this happening.
A/N: originally written for haldoor for the five acts meme; the prompts are up there in the warnings. And er, first time with me writing rimming, eeee. Using for 2x5obsessions #5, entwined. Really, it's 100% unrepentant porn.

Now this? This wasn’t really anything Sawyer had been planning to witness.

Ever.

And the fun thing is that no one would believe him if he told them that he really,really had just been taking a fucking goddamn walk. He hadn’t been following anyone and for once he just wanted to spend some fucking time with himself and no one else bothering him around the beach.

And it’s just his luck that he had to hear them. Well, fine, he could have just gone and ignored the sounds, but when you hear people moaning in the jungle like they were acting in some particularly low-profile porn, you just… can’t ignore that, not when your name is James Sawyer Ford anyway.

Yeah, well, maybe he never learned to mind his own business, and see where it has brought him.

Now he’s standing behind a tree watching the scene in front of him which is fucking surreal to a degree.

Fine. He can concede that the kid has a total hero-worship-driven crush on the doc, whatever. He might even get behind the fact that, from what he sees, they’re obviously involved.

What he can’t get behind, it’s Boone’s tongue up Jack’s ass.

Jack must have stolen some blanket from his stash at the caves or something because that’s where they’re lying on, and Jesus, he’s actually laying on that, his jeans neatly folded somewhere near, his legs spread, his face flushing red with pleasure as his hands curl into fists. And he’s the one moaning that loud; he gives some coherent sentence once in a while, if ohfuckthisissogood can be described as coherent, and well, he’s completely undone.

And completely not in control. Which, on Saint Jack Shephard, is a fucking strange expression.

This while pale hands hold his hips down and his buttocks apart and Boone, completely dressed himself, has his head bent down and licks carefully around the rim of Jack’s entrance. From what Sawyer sees, his tongue sneaks out at regular intervals, working said rim slowly and thoroughly, and considering the mewls Jack’s emitting, duh, Boone must be good at is. His eyes are almost glowing blue even if it’s three in the afternoon or something, and Sawyer can’t help staring at the scene until Boone lowers his head a bit further down (and well, he has a good enough vantage point to see it all) and actually plunges that tongue of his down instead of just threading over the edge.

More, Jack chokes, his shirt damp with sweat and his lips staying parted, and for a second Boone’s eyes glint before Sawyer can’t see them anymore and Jack quickly gets past the point of incoherence.

He stares, feeling like someone cast a fucking spell on him because he can’t move, he stares at Boone’s head and at his hands clutching Jack’s sides so hard that they’ll leave bruises, for sure, he stares at Jack coming not much after without his cock having fucking been touched once; when, after Jack has ridden through his orgasm, Boone raises his head and licks his lips before standing up, Sawyer can’t help noticing that there’s an obviously wet spot on his crotch. Jack turns on his back, looking thoroughly sated, as he shakes his head unbelievingly.

“Told you it’d be good,” Boone whispers as he kneels down, his cheeks impossibly flushed and a small smile curling the corner of his swollen, dark pink lips upward.

“Jesus,” Jack mutters, “I’m never doubting you again on this matter,” he breathes before glancing down.

“Need a hand down there?” he asks before lowering his head and kissing Boone slowly, with a tenderness that almost makes Sawyer gasp.

“When you offer so nicely,” Boone purrs, and that’s when Sawyer turns his back and goes, because that’s really too much when he still need to process seeing Boone with his tongue up Jack’s ass.

Not to mention that he needs to find a quiet place, because now he’s fucking bothered himself.

Dammit. He wasn’t even searching for it. Well, he figures, next time he needs a free peep show, he can keep an eye on those two. Which, in retrospective, maybe isn’t that bad.

Seriously, what the fuck.

End.