in the blink of an eye ~

Trevor had ushered Sawyer out of the room after returning the kiss that was a little too distracting, and echoing that he’d meet him in fifteen minutes. Stripping off the t-shirt he’d just pulled on, he took a fast shower and toweled off before pulling the still-clean shirt back on and finishing getting dressed in a pair of jeans that hopefully weren’t too bad, given they’d been worn at least once before. He made the mental note that he needed to do laundry when he next had the chance, but today just didn’t feel like the day for it.

He combed out his hair before toweling it again, leaving it in a curly mess atop his head before he yanked on a pair of sneakers and pocketing his phone, then heading out into the hall. By his estimates, he had, probably, a minute or two to spare, or maybe even less, but he leaned against the wall casually, once his door was closed, as if he’d been there the whole time, simply waiting.

Once Sawyer emerged from his bunk, however, Trevor couldn’t contain the slightly amused smirk that spread his lips before he spoke. “So I’m pretty sure they’ve got a zip-lining excursion going on today, if you wanna hop on the tail end of that – providing you don’t got a thing about heights – or we can hit the beach, in which case, a change of clothes might not be a bad idea,” he started before tilting his head to the side slightly, “or… we can do something else, I just… don’t really have any other ideas.”

Sawyer had fumbled with his keys for far too long for someone who was sober, eventually pushing the door to his bunk open. He didn’t take long in the shower before he stepped out, towel wrapped snuggly around his waist. A white v-neck and pair of jeans later, he was dressed. He ran his hands through his hair a few times, trying to get it to stay where it was supposed to, but it wasn’t listening. With a quick curse, he dropped his hands to his side, giving up, again, like he did every day. His hand grazed his beard -- not too long. It wasn’t unmanageable, yet. He could go another few days before he’d have to trim it again. 

Slipping his phone into his front pocket and his wallet into the back, Sawyer pulled his bunk door open to a smirking Trevor. He quirked his eyebrow but let the other man speak. “No thing about heights. Give me adrenaline rush..." He’d always been that kid - the one climbing trees or jumping off of dumpsters doing flips, landing flat on his ass a dozen times before he got it right. But he never got deterred. Sure, foster parents were always furious -- it looked bad on them for him to show up in the Emergency Room too often -- but he always had a blast. “You gonna chicken out on me though?”

Trevor let out a quiet laugh, shrugging his shoulders. “They aren’t all bad memories, but part of it…” he shook his head, letting his voice trail off. He really wasn’t sure if Sawyer had actually called himself his boyfriend, or if it had been some dream that blurred with the alcohol and the reality of the night before, leaving him unsure of what actually happened and what hadn’t. Did it matter, though? Trevor wasn’t sure it did.

He hummed in agreement as he moved into the bathroom, a smile curling his lips as he described the water as tainted. He knew exactly what he meant. Trevor wasn’t exactly sure why he hadn’t dumped the horrible excuse for liquor to begin with – maybe it was the small voice in the back of his head that suggested it was alcohol abuse; though he wasn’t sure how much actual alcohol was in the concoction that the man at the end of the hall had labeled ‘moonshine’ and how much of it was just… what? Trevor was pretty sure it was a mixture of cough syrup and mouthwash, with something else that didn’t improve on matters, at all.

Beginning to work his toothbrush over his teeth, as he moved into his room to talk to Sawyer, it felt like he was brushing away the taste of the drink that he hadn’t had as much as the fuzz that seemed to grow in the night. He mentally shook off the thought as he focused on the other’s response. Without hesitation, he lifted his middle finger into the air at the other, turning back into the bathroom to spit out the toothpaste and rinse his mouth again. “God, you’re a fucking asshole, y’know that?” he questioned, his smile on his face as much as it was in his voice. In spite of his initial reaction, and the face value of the words that left his mouth, he wasn’t all that surprised by Sawyer’s response.

Moving out of the bathroom again, he reached for one of his drawers, pulling out a t-shirt and tugging it on lackadaisically. “Do you want to join me in seeing how bad my sea legs are at this point, or are you gonna keep sitting there, laughing like a dick before you even have something to laugh at?” Trevor half smiled, his tone teasing as he looked over his shoulder at Sawyer, though he was pretty sure that the moment they stepped off the ship, he was going to stumble, seeing as he hadn’t stepped off the ship in – what had it been? Almost two months. He mentally swore, equally glad that the ship was, more or less, a floating city, and that he finally had the chance to get off the ship, for once.

In Trevor’s hesitation, his vague flashes os something were confirmed. Why did he always do this? He got attached too quickly and made a move when things were just fine as they were. And he fucking hated being attached like that; he’d always be the one to preach labels fucking things up. And her he was, tossing them around like it was nothing. Trevor, though, seemed more confused than anything. So, at least there was that. The other man hadn’t shoved him out of his bunk and into the hallway last night; that was promising.

Trevor’s middle finger into the air elicited a very genuine laugh from Sawyer as he flipped his back at him. “I know. It’s why we get along so well. Birds of a feather.” While euphemisms often came across as corny and overused, Sawyer found most of them quite beautiful at their root. Birds of a feather flock together. Especially when you factored in the way in which they had found work on this liner, it was really remarkable. Sawyer didn’t know much about Trevor’s childhood but judging from the lack of details pertaining to it, similar to his own discretion, it hadn’t been something to brag about. While the curiosity often bit at his heels, Sawyer wasn’t one to turn a fun conversation into something potentially serious or upsetting.

“Why can’t I do both? You know, just laugh all day. Smiles all around.” It was barely 9 a.m. but his words were that of an inebriated idiot. While no longer drunk, one might still call him an idiot, though, bum was more appropriate. Beach bum, to be exact. That had been his spot back in San Diego. When he had made his way up to Seattle, he had been disappointed by the difference in the beaches despite being on the same coast. Up toward Washington, the sand got far larger and contained more rock and shell pieces. The finer sand with further south.

Trevor couldn’t remember the night before… or, rather, he couldn’t remember most of the night before. It came in flashes, like it had all been just a dream, but there was noise and movement beside him, for a moment, and then silence and an empty bed. Shifting, he found himself in the warmth left behind from Sawyer’s body, his face buried into the mattress as he tried to block out the light that was filtering in through the small window. He maybe could have fallen back asleep… maybe… only his mouth was dryer than the desert, and his stomach gurgled with acid that had been fed by alcohol, and not much else, the day before… and then there was cold water being splashed on his bare back.

It wasn’t a lot, and it wasn’t ice cold, but still, it was enough for Trevor to hiss into the material of his bed in response, before rolling over, his moving to cover his eyes. “Fuck you,” he groaned halfhearted, but a smirk pulled at the corners of his lips before he could help it as Sawyer noted the marks on his skin. Trevor was sure that if he opened his eyes and examined himself, he’d find his skin equally marred. “I don’t remember much, either,” he admitted after a moment, easing himself into a sitting position, his arm dropping away from his eyes, opening them slowly to look over at the other. Trevor had certainly left his mark on him, and it made his smirk grow.

“Some of it… I remember, but I’m not sure if it actually happened or if I just had some bizarre ass dream that kind of went along with things,” he admitted before shaking his head. Finally catching sight of the glass in Sawyer’s hand, he lifted an eyebrow. “Are you drinking that crappy ass moonshine that Peter gave me?” He made a sound that was neither impressed nor disgusted by the thought as he moved to get out of bed, grabbing the now-empty cup as he did before heading into the bathroom.

Filling the cup, he used it to rinse his mouth, spitting out whatever it felt like was growing on his tongue and the roof of his mouth before taking a deep drink from the glass. When he reemerged from the bathroom, he was working his toothbrush over his teeth. Pausing, he spoke around it, careful to enunciate in a way he wasn’t really used to, “We were supposed to have docked, today, right? Do you have to work, at all, or are you free to adventure?”

It had honestly taken a lot of Sawyer’s self control not to just climb back on top of the barely covered Trevor and resume wherever they had left off the night before. But Trevor quickly coiled himself back into the blankets and Sawyer placed his tongue on the back of his teeth and made a clicking sound. “Drunk memories are usually embarrassing or horrible, or both. Hopefully I wasn’t too sloppy when I got down here last night.” While is words said one thing, his mind was telling him that he clearly had been. And there was something itching at the back of his brain, as if he was forcing down something he didn’t want to remember. Or maybe wasn’t ready to remember. And then it hit him.

His eyes grew slightly, though thankfully, Trevor made a comment about his glass. “Ah, that was the shit that was in there. The water was tainted.” He stretched out his smile in a half grimace and let out a matching laugh as Trevor moved to get out of bed. Sawyer lowered himself onto the end of the bed, tilting the glass to watch the remaining small droplets of water slide around the cup. He was trying to keep his thoughts level headed and away from the topic of last night. It was hazy, but he was certain the word boyfriend had floated out of his mouth at one point. And the more he sat here thinking about it, the more it was starting to settle on him that he really had called Trevor that.

Again, draw out of his thoughts by Trevor, the right side of his mouth drew upward into a smile. This man was a savior and he didn’t even know it. Toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, barely clothed, just standing there. God, how had he lucked into this one? “You know, I was going to give you a hard time and make you think I was on shifts all day but looking at you with your toothbrush hanging out of your mouth as you try to speak coherently, it fucked me up.” He rested his hand on his chest and gave a sarcastic pout followed by an honest laugh. “I didn’t have the heart to do it.”

Trevor couldn’t help but smile a little more in response to Sawyer’s smirk. It seemed to stem from the simple action of him squeezing his hand back, and maybe he was reading it wrong, but he liked that it seemed to make him happy that he’d simply returned the gentle squeeze. And Trevor, easily, could have just stayed their, holding his hand, enjoying that momentary happiness, but he had teasing to do, and as his hand made its way down Sawyer’s torso, it seemed that Sawyer was struggling for control, and it left Trevor struggling to keep himself from chuckling. He easily could have, except for the gentle curse thrown in his direction with a sharp exhale.

Things with Sawyer were easy. Maybe it was that neither had a particularly awesome upbringing, or because they took a similar approach to life, in general. Either way, if they wanted to be out, they were out, and if they were hanging in, they were in, and if they wanted some alone time, that worked too, though even then, it seemed like they were still talking. Things were laid back before their claiming of one another, and considering they’d just gone right back to things like it hadn’t happened, with Sawyer swearing at him for teasing him, he didn’t expect things to change much in that regard.

Slipping his hand down further, Trevor’s fingers tugged at the button of his jeans, before his lips came down against Sawyer’s without hesitation. “You can’t act like you don’t like the teasing…” he finally retorted with a grin against his lips before his hand slid back over his stomach and chest. His hand sliding around the back of his neck, his fingers tangled within his hair, tugging at it slightly before he finally shifted, his lips pressing firmly into Sawyer’s as he kissed him. When he finally pulled back, his smile was lopsided, once again, but softer, a more genuine smile, as he moved to press his lips against Sawyer’s jaw. “Unless you don’t,” he finally added, as if he hadn’t interrupted himself by kissing the other, “in which case, maybe you should do something about it.”

Somewhere between the lip biting, the hair pulling, and the moaning that was most certainly audible from the hallway, Sawyer and Trevor had fallen asleep. In all honesty, Sawyer didn’t know who had fallen asleep first. All he knew was that after their back and forth, he was exhausted. It hadn’t taken him long to fall asleep once the covers were over his body. But when the sunlight filtered in through the cabin window, he was most certainly sure that he was not ready to be awake. 

He half groaned, realizing midway through that there was a chance Trevor was still asleep. His head was pounding and his mouth was threatening to call a strike on alcohol from how dry it was. Cotton mouth didn’t even being to describe the sensation he was feeling. “Fuck...” he muttered, pushing himself out of bed. His insides were doing summersaults, a clear nod to the fact that he had quite outdone himself in regards to his alcohol consumption. He carefully moved his legs to dangle over the side of the bed until he could quietly stand. Shuffling toward the bathroom, he grabbed a half full glass of God only knew what; he tossed it down the sink as soon as it was in range and turned the faucet handle to fill up the glass with water. Tossing the glass back, he tasted the remnants of what could only be booze in his glass. Grumbling to himself, he filled the glass again and made his way back to the bed.

When he got close enough, he dipped his fingers into the glass and pulled them out, dripping, to flick his fingers toward Trevor. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.” Dick move, sure, but it was only a small sprinkle of water. He pulled the glass back to his lips and smirked as he downed the remaining water. “Seems like we had quite a night...” he noted, glancing at the marks up and down his chest and neck, “it’s a shame I don’t remember much.” He just barely remembered stumbling into the room...and falling asleep. But the whole rest of whatever happened in between was mere flashes and moans in his memory. 

Trevor let the sound of Sawyer’s voice wash over him. He could have agreed that he should, as much as he was teasing, but that would have only played into his ego, and while he didn’t mind boosting Sawyer’s ego, by any means of the imagination, at the moment, it didn’t feel necessary. It was all just a part of whatever game it was they seemed to play at with one another. There were moments where they, easily, could have just been confused as friends who had known each other their entire lives (though that was hardly the case), and as such had a relationship without barriers when it came to one another – it easily could have explained the lack of inhibition they each had with one another – but the lack of inhibition also led to them being caught on an occasion or two, in situations that others might not be so easy going about. Neither seemed to care, however, and it had been that way, nearly, from the get-go.

He found it was easy to become distracted by Sawyer, and not just by being caught up in the physicality of things; he was someone that Trevor, found, he actually could be himself around – even if that meant he was a little foul mouthed and a bit fucked up, Sawyer didn’t seem to judge him for that, or his past, or any of it. He’d found a friend when he hadn’t expected to, and he’d found something more in that friendship. 

A smile curled Trevor’s lips as Sawyer’s fingers slid through his, his hand curling to squeeze his back, before he let out an agreeing hum. “Mmmhm, just how I want it to,” he agreed, and started to chuckle, but the sound was cut off by the feel of Sawyer’s hand pulling at his hair and his lips pressed to his. The spoken invitation/challenge brought a grin across Trevor’s lips as he shoved Sawyer back against his bed. Leaning over him, his lips hovered over Sawyer’s, his grin growing lopsided. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? But what if I didn’t…?” He smirked before dipping his head lower, his fingers splaying out across Sawyer’s lower stomach as he nipped at his collar bone. For the moment, it was certainly an empty threat – he was enjoying things too much to actually stop and wait for a response.

The way Sawyer was raised had led to an interesting combination of lackadaisical and sarcasm for the man. Each foster family had been so different - farmers who worked sun up to sun down that made him walk to school; socialites who sent him to school with the nanny in a private car; drunk assholes who made him cook and do laundry for the other foster kids. Because of the variability in his life, he had found sarcasm to be a working defense mechanism. Sure, he had gotten into trouble with the drunk foster father that had a penchant for getting physical, but he had, on more than one account, made the principal at P.S. 113 laugh at a comment directed toward his classroom teacher in the office. The lackadaisical part of himself had gotten him a high school diploma, but just barely. Sawyer was actually rather intelligent but lacked the proper motivation to complete any long-term assignments. Pop quizzes and exams, no problem. But projects and essays, those never really came to fruition.

The same was true about his relationships; his significant others were often amused by the sarcasm but eventually grew bored of his easy going manner. He didn’t need to do anything special when he wasn’t at work. Just hanging around was enough for him. Every once in a while he’d get an itch to go somewhere or do something more exciting, but otherwise, his bunk and the tv were just fine. Though, on the other hand, he was very easily cajoled into an outing if given enough pressure.

When Trevor squeezed his hand back, he smirked. That had been something he always looked for, as stupid as it might sound. If he ever squeezed, he wanted that squeeze back. If he did it twice, he wanted it back twice. It showed that Trevor was paying attention. But fuck, that lopsided smile was going to be his undoing and he was pinned to the bed with little room to move. 

Trevor let out a throaty chuckle at Sawyer’s words. “Yeah, well,” he started, taking in a slow breath, straightening out his features as he leaned back, an eyebrow wagging slightly as he spoke, “When greeted by someone that’s gorgeous as fuck and wearing only a towel, it’s hard not to take notice.” It was then his grin spread out across his features again. Sawyer had caught Trevor’s eye the moment he first opened his door, and as their time together went on, well, it was every ounce of self control he had not to make a move right then and there. While the attraction had been immediate, it seemed their ability to form a friendship, had been as well. Not that things remained as clean cut as a simple friendship for very long, at all.

As he leaned back in and nipped at Sawyer’s skin, his grin spread wide, once more at the sound of the growl that resulted, shifting to look him in the eyes once more. “You’re always impatient,” he laughed before he playfully snapped his teeth together, just barely grazing them against his lower lip. As he did so, his fingers dragged languidly across Sawyer’s ribs, and slowly down over his stomach as he shifted his hips down into his, smirking as he did so.

“Is that what I’m doing? Making things difficult for you?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow. If Sawyer thought he was teasing him before, he wouldn’t hesitate in teasing him now.

Sawyer let out a laugh that turned into a groan halfway through as Trevor leaned back in and nipped at his skin again. “I’m adding hot as fuck to my resume...” he teased, tilting his head slightly to give Trevor an easier go. Why did he always give Trevor such a hard time for melting into putty in his hands when he was almost worse when the roles were reversed? Sawyer had replayed that night over in his head a few times, and nearly every time he came to the decision he was stupid for not making a move  then and there, he remembered how much more entertaining it was for the two of them to wade through the waters of friendship along with the innocent flirting.

Except it wasn’t always innocent. And innocent had not lasted long. They had been at each other’s belts and buttons before too long and that had all flown out the window. There was something about the way his inhibitions flew out the window when Trevor was around. Sure, he had never been one to give a damn about the rules or what people thought in the long run, but everyone had those worries sneak into the back of their heads every now and then. But with Trevor, he didn’t care. He didn’t care if anyone saw them behind a curtain or in the stairwells. He’d just laugh it off and drag him further back or into his own bunk. 

And it never had to stop, at least, as far as Sawyer was concerned. They were in this little bubble on the ship - outside time passed differently than it did here on the ship. More than 4 had flown by and he still felt as young as the day he boarded this damn cruise liner. 

Trevor nearly let out a laugh, mostly at disbelief in himself. He had, quite literally, ran away from the place he’d called home for three years without word to anyone he knew, crossed the country, and hopped on a cruise ship to avoid the feeling of settling down. And yet, here he was, agreeing that he was Sawyer’s, providing, of course, that Sawyer was his, as well. It wasn’t as if they weren’t already in some semblance of a relationship; it lacked labels – and simply stating that they were one another’s didn’t exactly label anything, so to speak – but it didn’t change the fact that most of their downtime was spent around one another, texts were sent at all hours. It was all already there, he tried to tell himself, and this wasn’t quite putting labels on it. So why was it he felt anxious, again?

As Sawyer agreed to his stipulation, however, that him being Sawyer’s meant that Sawyer, too, would be his, he felt the tightness that had settled in his chest release, and realized the anxiety came from the uncertainty. Because even if laying claim to one another wasn’t truly labeling it, he knew, deep down, what it meant, and he was pretty certain that Sawyer felt the same about it as he did. Still, between Sawyer’s agreement, and the feel of his lips crashing into his, Trevor found relief, kissing him back with fervor, shifting closer with his pull as the kiss broke, though, a simple murmur of the word “good” escaping his lips.

Slowly, a lopsided grin crossed Trevor’s face. “While I’ve never minded the neck full of hickeys… I don’t think you have to worry about Amanda from guest services,” he laughed, shaking his head before shifting it to nudge his nose just below Sawyer’s jaw. “Just because she’s into anything that gets around on two legs, doesn’t mean she’s my type.” With that, Trevor nipped at the skin he had previously nudged his nose against, as if to say, just exactly, what his type was.

Titles and labels were bullshit and Sawyer had always believed that fact. The few times in his life that he had let some girl call him her boyfriend, all hell had broken loose within hours. He had never had another guy call him that, but he assumed it would be just the same. It was like a switch flipped inside the head and it turned his partner from a completely normal human being into a deranged lunatic. And while he might enjoy the roughness in bed, he certainly did not enjoy high heeled shoes being thrown at him in public, which, believe it or not, had happened on more than one occasion.

His nose nudged at him as Sawyer fumbled with his own hands, reaching for the hemline of Trevor’s boxers. “I always knew your type was tall, blonde, and ruggedly handsome. Pinned you from the start.” Their first encounter had been one for the books -- a shirtless Sawyer answering his door to Trevor, who needed help, desperately, with a dripping faucet. The duo had only made the problem worse and Trevor had ended up without a shirt on, too. Looking back, it was a miracle they hadn’t sealed the deal right then and there. In all honesty, Sawyer was sure that had he had even a bit of alcohol in his system, he’d have kissed him. Rejection didn’t bother Sawyer nearly as much as it did most people. Rejection meant you put yourself out there and that was courageous. It took guts.

Sawyer growled at the nip Trevor’s teeth made against his skin and tugged on his shirt. “I might be drunk but you’re almost as bad as I am and I’m getting impatient...tease.” Sawyer was egging him on and he hoped his counterpart would recognize the sarcasm in his voice as he spoke. Sawyer was quite certain his brain was about to explode with anticipation and that calling Trevor out on it would only make his waiting longer. But hell, wasn’t that half the fun of all this?

There was a part of Trevor that wished he wasn’t quite so… amenable… to Sawyer’s actions, but then, Sawyer seemed to be just as so, and it made him not try so hard to fight his instinctive response. Instead, he put his efforts into Sawyer making similar noises, because, if truth be told, that was the game, wasn’t it?

He hummed an affirmative at Sawyer’s thanks, as his teeth found skin, but as he continued his actions, he finally found the response he wanted in the form of a ragged breath and a groan that could have come from frustration or enjoyment – it was hard to tell, from Trevor’s perspective. With Sawyer’s fingers in his hair, he easily could have continued his work at his neck, but instead pulled back with a lazy grin at Sawyer’s words. “Is that so?” he remarked, a little too quickly, at his first, though his expression changed, some, as his words became more articulate.

Reaching for Sawyer’s face, his fingers brushed against the scraggly hair that grew over his cheeks, Trevor’s eyes focused in on Sawyer’s. “I’ll allow it,” he said at last, his voice quieter than usual, his tone entirely serious as his fingers continued to stroke against Sawyer’s jaw, finding his voice despite the tightness in his chest that was caused by, either, a lack of air, or his heart racing – though he couldn’t tell which, “but you have to know… that means you’re mine, too.” In spite of his nerves, his voice, fingers, and gaze, were all steady, as he addressed Sawyer.

Trevor was quick to reply to the first slip of the statement but as soon as Sawyer took a more serious tone, Trevor focused. His hands ran against his beard, which was nearly as long as it had ever been. At first, he had just been too lazy to shave, but it had quickly become a facet of his new look. It fit the leather jacket and the slim fit jeans he often donned while off the clock. Trevor’s fingers worked slowly, methodically, over his face, against his jaw, as he spoke, softer this time. As his chest tightened in the silence, Sawyer noticed a thinness to the air that made everything feel dry. When his breath finally came, through, it came with confirmation. Confirmation and a stipulation.

Sawyer was Trevor’s; Trevor was his. That sounded awfully like a serious relationship, which was the last thing that Sawyer Anderson was known for. And yet, in this moment, under the touch of the only man in recent memory who had gotten him to whimper like he just had, Sawyer agreed. He nodded, multiple times, just before his lips collided against Trevor’s again. “I’m yours.” Sawyer meant it. He meant that he was Trevor’s to use, physically, as he was going to use him. He meant that he was there to text at three a.m. when he couldn’t sleep. He meant he was there to share dinner with instead of eating alone. Hell, they spent more time together than they did apart at this point. What was the different claiming that? His fingers tugged on the belt loops again, to remind him that he was still there, close to him, more than anything.

A pleased hum escaped Trevor’s lips in response to Sawyer’s whine, his lips curving into a smirk, in spite of the bottle pressed to them in place of Sawyer’s lips. Pulling it away, the smirk grew as he made no effort to hide his eyes trailing over the bare flesh that was revealed to him as Sawyer pulled off his shirt. “Maybe I am… but you gotta admit, it’s a damn fun one,” he stated simply, his features caught somewhere between a smirk and a grin. The words all but melted into the hum that followed as Sawyer tugged and pulled at him.

“But I kind of like it when you do,” he admitted, though it didn’t stop him from moving closer to Sawyer, shifting to straddle his lap.Kind of was an understatement, though. They both had a habit of leaving their marks behind. Neither hesitated when it came to their urges with the other, giving into their own and the other’s, equally, and it was that lack of hesitation that had Trevor move to straddling Sawyer’s lap, downing the last of the bottle in his hand before tossing it aside on the bed. He was sure it would get in the way, at some point, but it was better than it shattering against the floor – they could deal with it when it became an issue. “Is this better?” he questioned, a slightly mischievous smirk crossing his lips as his face buried into the side of his neck.

Callused fingers dragging against bare ribs, Trevor’s teeth found the skin of Sawyer’s shoulder, barely scraping against it before moving his lips to his collar bone. Every movement was slow, and as free from thought as it was calculated, driven by his own need as much as his need to please Sawyer, savoring his taste and the feel of him. 

The hums that Trevor let slip only fed his desire to toy with him. He made it so easy, or perhaps, Sawyer was just that good at what he did. Perhaps it was a combination of the two. Regardless, he loved knowing that even the smallest shift of his hips could get Trevor to let out that noise. The noise that told him he was doing something right. “’s a fun game...I can’t lie there...” He agreed, his smile ever present as Trevor moved to straddle him. 

Sawyer leaned back with Trevor, letting the man finish off what was left in the bottle. “Ah, don’t say that unless you want to switch how this seems to by unfolding. But yes, this is much better. Thank you for asking.” Rough was for the one who was on top, and right now, Trevor was definitely having a go, nipping at his neck. Smart ass was a language that both men spoke fluently, often back and forth at each other. He often felt that Trevor was quicker with the slick responses, leaving him biting on his bottom lip to avoid responding with a sub par comeback. But that was half the fun because when Sawyer did come back with something quick, it was just that much more amusing.

Lightly tapping at the side of his nose, he brought his finger to point at Sawyer. “Touche. You’ve got me, there,” he admitted lightly, a quiet laugh escaping him, because he couldn’t deny the fact that there was a double meaning to his statement, and the realization bubbled up in a bout of quiet, nervous laughter. He just hoped it didn’t sound as nervous as it felt. He tried to ignore his thoughts, downing several more swigs of whiskey before Sawyer even hinted at him needing to drink more, hoping to drown out and dull that stupid anxious feeling that had him almost gnawing at his fingertips, as was his wont, with the alcohol.

The urge was quickly washed away, though, if not by the alcohol, by Sawyer’s touch. Trevor easily could have dropped the bottle in his hand and gave into his touch. Especially when he found his lips back against his. Trevor’s own, free hand roamed, rucking up his shirt slightly as he slid it over his chest before finding his neck, and the edge of his facial hair. “You know, you don’t taste so bad, either,” Trevor murmured as Sawyer finally broke the kiss again, though he smirked and nipped at his lower lip before he managed to pull back entirely.

His smirk only grew wider at Sawyer’s question, the bottle lifting to his lips, before pulling away, never making contact, as Trevor extended his finger, poking the other, lightly, in the chest. “That’s a dangerously open-ended question,” he warned, lightheartedly, before pulling the bottle back to his lips and taking a few deep swigs from it. Between the liquor and Sawyer, Trevor was already starting to feel a mild buzz, and it showed itself in a faint smile that refused to fully leave his lips. “But I think you should, at least, level the playing field,” he professed, gesturing to his lack of pants. “I mean, comparatively, you are far overdressed,” he spoke with a smirk as his eyes trailed over Sawyer’s body and back up to his face.

While Sawyer knew Trevor didn’t need an excuse to drink more, it really was entertaining to watch him hold back from what he knew they were both after. The pair knew what each touch they provided did. Sawyer knew what Trevor liked, but what he really enjoyed was finding that new spot, or a different way to nip at his neck, that would make him respond with those noises he loved so much. Knowing that he could get Trevor to melt in his hands would never get old. Likewise, Trevor knew exactly what to do to elicit the same reaction from Sawyer. Like nipping at his bottom lip. “Un...fair...” he whined, watching as Trevor took another few swigs from the bottle. 

Level the playing field? Sawyer smirked again, shaking his head. “You know...” grabbing the edges of the bottom of his shirt, he tugged upward, “you’re playing just as dangerous of a game as I am...” 

His shirt hit the floor and he reached for Trevor, tugging Trevor forward by the belt loop of his pants. Both fingers nimbly worked free the buckle of Trevor’s belt and he slipped the leather from between the belt loops.

Even in this drunken state, he managed to undo it easily, not getting caught up as he tugged on him again. “You’re too far away...don’t make me get rough.” That was more of a promise than a threat at this point, and he was sure Trevor knew it, too. Sawyer had been more than clear about how rough he was when it came to their time in the bedroom. He had always been fond of leaving marks - some would call it territorial, stripped down to its most animalistic qualities. In reality, it was more jealousy than anything. Leaving a mark meant if someone took Trevor’s shirt off, they’d see his handy work and at least know that Trevor was seeing someone. 

Trevor easily could have stood there with his fingers against Sawyer’s skin for as long as he was allowed, but being the only one sober was never particularly fun, at least in his opinion. Still, the lack of contact was just as palpable as the contact had been, the moment he’d broken it, and so when he went to sit, he made sure to recreate some contact, leaning against him, slightly. Mm, yes, that’s much better, he thought to himself.

He’d considered questioning his comment about “the law of the waves,” the first time Sawyer stated it, and then again, when it was stated again, but instead just took another deep swig from his bottle. They didn’t matter, regardless of how much they mattered to Sawyer in this moment. Trevor knew enough to know that he wouldn’t remember why they were so important come the morning, but he still smiled at the words, because there was something endearing about how much it seemed to matter to him.

Redirecting his thoughts though, he quirked an eyebrow, “So you’ve got to be a hot young woman to get you to take shots, while working, huh?” he teased, almost under his breath. He refrained from adding the thought “maybe I’ll dress in drag the next time I come to visit you, while you’re working,” and found himself rewarded – or perhaps there was no correlation to his figuratively biting his tongue – with Sawyer’s lips pressed into his.

“If I taste so good, why did you pull back so soon?” Trevor almost had to force his eyes to move from Sawyer’s lips, though he didn’t increase the close distance between them at all, and as his eyes found his lips finally curled to match Sawyer’s own smile. 

Trevor was so good. He let him ramble; he let him touch him in places others might pull back from; he smiled when her said stupid things. “You’ve got to be hot to get me to take shots. You’ve only ever asked me for whiskey...in glasses. Not in a shot...” Honestly, he could’ve been talking out of his ass; if Trevor asked him, right now, if any type of details about anything they had done together on this ship, he would be guessing. Well, not about anything they had done together on this ship. He was quite certain that, if asked, he could reiterate every minuscule detail from the first time he had pinned Trevor to the wall below deck and left those purplish marks up and down his neck. 

“And I pulled back because you needed to know.” Sawyer reached forward and rested his hand on the back of Trevor’s head, pulling him into another kiss. His other hand went to his thigh and slid down, tilting his head slightly. After a solid fifteen seconds, he pulled back again, glancing down to the bottle. Whiskey was nice on Trevor; not only did he taste good, but just the thought that he could be with a guy who chose whiskey above other hard liquors was incredibly attractive. There was something about the way men who drank whiskey held themselves. Just like there was something about the way a man who took six shots of tequila held himself -- barely upright and full of overly eager smiles.

Sawyer hadn’t missed a beat, in spite of his inebriation, and it just made Trevor grin in response. “Y’never know,” he quipped, lightly, still smiling, even as he was called a smart ass. That was nothing new. He was always the smart ass. Finding his hand in Sawyer’s, he let the door swing shut, moving slowly after him, listening as he rambled, a quiet snort of laughter escaping, though whether it was at his declaration that he took orders from no one, or the way he drunkenly fell to the bed, Trevor couldn’t quite say.

At the question, his shoulders lifted in a shrug. “My phone was pretty much under my ear, with that last text. Woke me up,” he stated simply, shrugging absently, because while Sawyer may have always been a heavy sleeper, Trevor always struggled with sleep, at least when it came to falling asleep. Once he fell into it, he was usually okay. He just hadn’t gotten deep enough when the chime on his phone pulled him out of it.

When Sawyer reached out, again, Trevor smiled a little wider, stepping closer, until he was close enough that he could slide his fingers into his hair, completely bypassing the hand that was outstretched towards him. “I’m not going to stop you from being drunk or happy,” he promised quietly, his fingers coming to rest at the back of his neck for a moment. “But I do think I am going to have to play a little bit of catch up, ‘cause I’m not nearly on your level, and it’s not fair.” With that, Trevor stepped away from Sawyer, breaking his contact with him as he moved to dig out the bottle of whiskey he had carefully stashed away. Once he had it, he took two large gulps before sinking down, heavily, beside Sawyer, carefully leaning his shoulder into his. “So how is it that they convinced you to drink tequila, anyway?” he questioned, an amused grin crossing his lips as he looked over at the other.

Trevor’s hand in his was oddly stabilizing in his current state of mind. His skin was cold, or maybe he was just warm. Whatever the case, he was focused on the way his skin felt against his. Sawyer listened to Trevor explain why he was awake, nodding along as if he was really paying attention. In reality, he was focusing on trying to keep his head from drooping to one side. Tequila was dangerous for him; he could handle vodka and rum, but the second he shot tequila, he was a goner. And he had shot, and shot, and shot tequila tonight. Someone had once tried to tell him it was something about the way the alcohol fermented but it didn’t make much sense to him. 

He was drawn from the thoughts about tequila when Trevor’s hand ran through his hair. He leaned into his hand instinctively, his very full five o’clock shadow brushing against Trevor’s hand. “Good thing. No one can ruin my happy drunk. It’s against the law of the waves.” His speech was slightly slurred but it was still very obvious what he was saying. When Trevor’s hand found its way back to his neck, Sawyer felt a shiver run down his spine and he wanted to pull Trevor closer but he pulled away. Sawyer grasped at the air helplessly and then he just watched.

He watched as Trevor took a swig from his bottle of whiskey with a smile, a genuine smile of admiration. Fuck, he was hot. Trevor leaned into his shoulder and Sawyer snorted at his question, nudging Trevor. He shifted to face Trevor, far too close for a normal conversation, and trailed his eyes down his face and back up. “When hot, young women buy you shots, you can’t turn them down. It’s against the law of the waves.” Where the law of the waves had come from, he had no idea. But the laws were apparently extremely important to him in this moment. 

A quiet chime was enough to pull Trevor from the light doze he’d managed to fall into, a slight grunt escaping his lips as he fished for the source of the sound from within his bed. Finally finding the phone, he squinted at its bright screen before letting out a chuckle at the jumble of typos that had come in from Sawyer. “Dork,” he had mumbled quietly to himself, letting his phone drop down into his bed, once more. He’d considered texting a ‘good night’ in return, but knew that it would, likely, only get some snarky, drunken response along the lines of ‘oh it was’, and then teased mercilessly for it once Sawyer had sobered up. It was simpler to just let the phone return to its previous resting place and to try to find that place of sleep he’d somehow managed in the process of exchanging texts with the other.

After a moment of lying there in his clothes, he grunted, again, struggling to pull off his jeans without getting up. He’d just managed the task and settled back in when there was a singular thump against his door. The first sound, he doubted a knock, but as a second followed, and eventually a third, he finally forced himself to disengage from his bed and move across his bunk to the door. The words ‘what the fuck do you want?’ were on the tip of his tongue until his eyes landed on Sawyer, an all too pleased-with-himself grin on his face, from what Trevor could tell. Instead it drew out a laugh. “Hey there,” he echoed, taking a step back and opening the door wider so Sawyer could come in if he wanted. “What are you doing here? You drink enough that you forget which door is yours?” he teased lightly.

Even in his current state, Sawyer could tell when Trevor was making fun of him and being a prick. He lifted his hand to rest on the door frame as Trevor took a step backward, allowing for more space for him to pass by. “Come on.” A true smile, teeth and all, cracked across his face.

“I knocked on your door on purpose, smart ass.” He said, mimicking Trevor’s tone as best he could. “I had a very eventful night with a rowdy bachelorette party and Linnea told me to let all of my friends know...” he started inside, reaching for Trevor’s hand as he went by, “that I am the best kisser on this entire damn ship, including her future husband. But she told me to keep that part to myself...which I did not do because I take orders from no one.” He was walking backwards now, which was most certainly a bad choice. A half a second later, he collided with the bed frame and fell back onto the bed with a laugh.

“What’re you doing up still though? I have expected to have to...you know...” He sat up and scooted toward the edge of the bed, reaching for Trevor again, “knock a dozen times and have you sleep through it all.” Sawyer had always been a heavy sleeper; it was a necessity when you were moving foster home to foster home. You never knew what the new house they dropped you into would have: infants, screaming drunks, girls who couldn’t sleep without blasting Avril Lavigne at 2 a.m.. You eventually just learned to sleep through it all. 

“Seems like I missed one hell of a party…” Sawyer smirked and leaned into Trevor. “Maybe you can recap the rest of the night for me in your bunk.” One hand rested to the left of Trevor, just above his shoulder, the other was down at Sawyer’s side. “Or…in mine.” His eyes ran down Trevor’s torso and then back up, slowly, finally settling on Trevor’s eyes. “Up to you.”