No Return
by Eiluned (eil.at.phoenixfyre (AT) gmail(DOT)com)

Explicit sex.
Summary: The nights were spent in each other's arms, forgetting that the world existed. Sawyer/Kate.
Notes: Sawyer. How I love that man. Feedback will be welcomed with open arms and given cookies.
Archived at http://www.phoenixfyre.net/Eiluned

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It would always start with a kiss.

She would sneak away from camp and find him leaned against a tree or sitting on a boulder. His arms were always crossed and his shirt was usually open, and he would be gazing out at the ocean with something deep and lonely in his eyes. That look would disappear when she stopped at his side, replaced by his usual sly smile, and he would always take her by the hand and pull her against his body. She always closed her eyes, but she knew that he kept his open until the last second before his lips touched hers, the bristle of his beard grazing her chin.

This time was no different; that first kiss was sweeter than she would have thought he was capable of giving. But when she parted her lips against his, sighing, he slid his hands into her hair and kissed her hard, pushing his tongue against hers.

The first time she slept with him had been a moment of utter weakness. She had been tired and lonely and scared, and he had kissed her so sweetly. For that moment, she could imagine that she wasn't trapped in her self-imposed solitude. She wasn't the only outcast on this godforsaken island. They had writhed in each other's arms, and for that moment, they weren't alone.

The next day, things were back to normal, as normal as things could be. He was his usual sarcastic self, and she hovered around the outskirts of their little village, wanting to belong.

She told herself it wouldn't happen again, but three days later, she was back in his arms. After a couple of weeks, they had fallen into a routine; days were occupied by a wary acknowledgement of each other, and nights were spent in each other's arms, forgetting that the world existed.

Her hands slipped into his open shirt, and she pressed her palms against the hard muscles of his chest. He always moaned when she touched him, soft little pleading sounds in the back of his throat. Those sounds killed her, and she slid her hands over his shoulders, pushing the shirt off and pressing the full length of her body against his.

He felt so good against her; every inch of him was hard and tense with desire, and she rubbed against him like a cat. He broke their kiss just long enough to pull her tank top over her head, and then captured her lips again, sinking his teeth lightly into her bottom lip.

She didn't love him. She liked him, but she didn't think she was capable of loving him, or anyone for that matter. She didn't love him, but she loved the feel of his hands on her, unhooking her bra and smoothing over her naked back. She loved the scrape of his stubble on her neck as he licked at her pulse. She loved how his hips would thrust against hers, an unconscious movement, when she pressed her breasts against him. She loved the way he could undress her without breaking their kiss, leaving her naked and wanting.

They sank down to their knees in one smooth motion, his mouth traveling down her throat to suck at her nipples. He could drive her mad with his mouth; he teased her nipples until she was gasping before pushing her onto her back and sliding his tongue down her stomach. He buried his face between her legs, licking and sucking until she came, pressing her own hand against her mouth to keep from crying out too loudly.

He looked at her then, looked long and hard from between her thighs with an inscrutable expression on his face. His blond hair was draped over his cheeks, falling into his pretty grey eyes, and she shivered involuntarily. He had never looked at her like that before, and she felt stirrings of something she knew she wasn't ready to feel.

To break the spell, she reached for him, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling him on top of her. He kissed her deeply, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and settling between her open legs. His blue jeans rubbed against her sensitized skin, making her gasp and shudder against him.

She never thought about why she wanted him so much. She told herself it was physical attraction, plain and simple, and left it at that. Even then, she knew she was lying to herself, but examining her own motivations was too painful, and trying to figure out his was too difficult. She left it at physical attraction, and that attraction was strong.

Squeezing her hands between their bodies, she pulled the button loose and tugged the zipper down, pushing his jeans down over his hips. They were usually too desperate for each other's bodies by this time to actually remove his pants; they had only made love completely naked three times. His cock was hard in her hands, and he moaned deeply, his breathing suddenly ragged.

She arched her back, closing her eyes, and he shifted his hips, their bodies moving instinctively together until the head of his erection was pressed against her opening. He paused when she expected him to thrust, and she opened her eyes to find him looking at her. Her stomach flipped when he threaded his fingers in her hair; she wanted to slap her hand over his mouth to keep him from speaking. But he didn't speak; he just kissed her lips gently, almost reverently, and pushed inside of her.

Her head fell back against the sandy ground, a cry caught in her throat. Nothing compared to that moment, to the feel of him inside her, filling her perfectly. He always held still for a long moment with his face pressed against her hair, his heart hammering against her chest. She wrapped her arms around his back, digging her fingers in to hide the trembling.

He rolled his hips against her, and she couldn't help crying out at the slow drag and pull. His hips rolled slow and lazy, like swells spending themselves on the beach. He drove her mad with that easy rhythm, keeping it up until she was gasping and begging for more, harder, faster.

Bracing himself with one arm, he willingly obliged, thrusting harder and faster. She loved it when he kissed her then, little teasing glances from his lips. Dragging her lips away from his, she licked at the soft skin under his ear, sinking her teeth into his neck, smiling secretly when he let loose a hoarse cry.

They were passing the point of no return; she knew by the sudden raggedness of his thrusts and the coiling pleasure in her own body. He knew it, too, and pushed his cock deep inside of her, grinding against her clit. The coiling pleasure unwound suddenly, wracking her body, and she screamed his name, sobbing against his skin. A few more hard, uneven thrusts and he came inside of her, moaning desperately, her name a prayer on his lips.

He had never held her before that night. He always used to kiss her lips and draw away from her, leading her to the water so they could clean up, but that night, he held her tight for a long time. She closed her eyes and wrapped herself around him, surrendering to his kisses and his touches, and for a while, she wasn't alone.

She didn't know if the next day would be the same as the days before. She didn't know if it was even possible to go back to that feigned casualness they seemed to depend on. But for that moment, she didn't care.

end