#sawyer

I can't take it anymore. They are actually driving me insane.

It was cute at first. Sweet. And sometimes a bit funny. A welcome distraction from everything going on in the quadrant. But once I joined their squad, it became. Way. Too. Much.

Before, it was every other class, and maybe sometimes when we crossed each other in the halls that Ridoc's thoughts would invade my brain space. They were loud and I'm pretty sure that even if I could control my inntinnsic abilities, it would still be impossible to ignore. His thoughts bully their way into my head no matter what I do.

But it was fine, I didn't mind. Ridoc was funny and being in his head was, for the most part, quite pleasant. It was easier to focus on one person's mental traffic than it was to block out everyone else's. It was especially easy to focus on Ridoc's, purely because of how loud and obstreperous it was.

This however, was just... overwhelming. It was no longer 'every now and then' it was Every. Single. Day. Obviously, being in his squad meant we shared all our lessons. To make matters worse, that also means I share every lesson with Violet AND Sawyer. I quickly learned that while Sawyer is quiet, he has a sharp tongue that is politely kept under wraps. It doesn't help that he seems to share Ridoc's sentiments about me, even if they are quieter.

Violet makes it onto the list of annoyances, not because of who she is, but because her thoughts are a whirlwind. This woman thinks at a hundred miles a minute and if I get caught in the currants, it's easy to be pulled under. What happens when you get pulled under, I don't know, and I don't intend to find out.

But, she's not too bad. Her mind is unobstructive. It's not that her thoughts are meek, they're just... easy to step around, if that makes sense.

The absolute worst part about being on Violet's squad, is that Xaden is constantly popping up. I know, I know. I'm a marked one, he sacrificed a bunch for us, I should be grateful, blah blah blah. And I am, don't get me wrong, but he scares the shit out of me, and I've so far done an excellent job of avoiding that man like the plague. If I really need to get word to him, I will talk to his cousin, or Garrick, thank you very much. (Not Imogen. She also scares me.) That becomes really hard when he is now everywhere Violet is. I know that's an exaggeration, but still.

But that's not my biggest problem. Violet? Fine. Xaden? My abrupt and shit excuses to be anywhere he isn't gets me weird looks, but it's manageable. Ridoc and Sawyer on the other hand? I am one stray hair from throwing myself off the parapet.

At this point, it's more distracting than just letting everyone's thoughts clamour over each other in my head.

For example, we were taking a test the other day. I had made the grievous mistake of sitting in front of the two boys and it was just a constant stream of me. You can't be telling me that you think my hair is absolutely gorgeous, and that you bet it would be so soft and nice to play with. Like, what do you mean you're certain I'd look amazing kneeling for you and begging? I'm not about to disagree with you, but could you not think about it during our physics pop quiz? I'm trying to calculate the specific heat capacity of dragon scales over here.

Now, you might be thinking, 'Why not tune into Sawyer's thoughts or anyone else's?'

Great question! Allow me to explain, Sawyer, is a 45/45/10 gamble. 45 percent chance he's thinking: 'I want to brush her hair back and kiss her forehead', another 45 percent chance of: 'I want to bend her over the desk and use her hair as a handle', —there is no in between— and a 10 percent chance of: 'Oh, I know this formula'

Not good odds. As for someone else, my telepathic abilities only reach so far and I did not trust the theoretical physics knowledge of the people who sat around me. It is safe to say, that was the last time I ever sat in front of Ridoc and Sawyer. Never. Again. I'm pretty sure I failed that test because not even 5 minutes past, and I was in desperate need of a cold shower.

I would really love to go one day without feeling an incessant need to take care of myself at the end of every lesson. If it's not Ridoc, it's Sawyer, and vice versa. One thing I learnt very quickly in the first few days of my signet manifesting, is that any thoughts people have about you present louder than any others.

I need to change squads direly, and I am about a hairs breadth away from murdering half of another squad just for the slightest chance to make it happen. Or I could ask Garrick if he could do anything, but that conversation would get very messy, very quickly. No one knows I'm an inntinnsic, not even another marked one. We have to do some illegal shit to get by, but this? This is another level.

I just hope that my second signet presents soon like my dragon says it will, because the length of time I've gone with no signs of signet manifestation and yet simultaneously no signs of spontaneous combustion either is starting to raise some eyebrows. Especially with the other marked ones.

'You know you are missing the most simple solution with your boy problem, right?'

I'm not going to bed them, I insist for the umpteenth time. It is not the first instance my green scorpion tail, Nyalahrahck (Nyla for short), and I have had this argument.

'Why not? You want it, they want it, either of them would be a fine choice for some release. It's one night, not marriage.'

It's not about that. It's the principal of it

'You know what I like the principal of? Not having a rider so riddled with need that she falls off mid-flight'

That happened one time!

'Yes, and that is one too many'

She blocks any attempt I may have had as a come back, leaving me to stew in my thoughts. For most people, this would be a bad thing, but here, in my dorm, is the one place where I can actually hear myself think, and I revel in it.

All five seconds of it.

*knock knock knock*

What now?

I reluctantly get up to check who it is. Classes are done for the day, and the marked one meeting isn't for another four-ish hours.

Opening my door reveals Violet and Rhiannon standing there.

"Hello?" I ask, it's not in an unkind way, we're just not very close. I was only added into their squad under a month ago, so it could still change.

"Hi Y/n. We have an impromptu training session, Aetos's orders. Sorry," Violet says, grimacing.

I give her a tight-lipped smile in return. I think she's figured out I hold my alone time close to my heart, and she respects that, which I appreciate, "Not your fault, just give me a moment. You guys can go on so long if you want, I'll be there in a bit"

They nod and I close my door again to quickly get ready. I grab a few daggers and braid my hair then pin it firmly into a bun. When I walk out, they are still there waiting for me. I can't help but smile a little at them. It's a shame that I'll need to find a way to switch squads. I'm really starting to like them.

When we all get to the training room, the rest of the squad is already there. Sawyer and Ridoc are sparing while Aetos takes mental notes, and Liam looks extremely concentrated on the match, but he's actually thinking about the meeting tonight.

Just as we enter, Sawyer pins Ridoc, and he yields.

"Nice one Sawyer!" Rhiannon comments. He nods his head in thanks before helping his sparing partner off the ground.

"Perfect," Aetos starts, "Sawyer with Rhiannon, Liam with Y/n, and Ridoc with Violet"

No hello? No 'sorry, I know it's late and this is completely unexpected, but I think that the squad could benefit from some extra training', nothing? Asshole.

We all move to a mat nonetheless. I face down Liam, staring into his eyes, trying to get a read on his next move. You'd think being a mind reader would make that easy, but Liam's been training for a while, so his moves are pretty much second nature to him. He is almost always thinking about anything other than the fight at hand unless he's facing a second or third year. It makes it even more difficult to fight him.

What was on his mind during today's sparing match was my least favourite topic: "Why has Y/n not manifested her signet yet?"

The concern is sweet, but the thoughts themselves gives me anxiety. How long can I keep this up? When are they going to find out? Who will figure it out first, the marked ones, or the other riders? What happens to me when they do?

Liam strikes first, feigning a hit to my right and quickly redirecting to my left. I duck, and using his direction of motion to my advantage, I grab his arm, and pull him forward. It only sets him off balance for a second, but that's all I need.

I kick at the back of his knees, the small hiss of pain as they hit the mat does admittedly bring about a wave of satisfaction, but the feeling is soon erased. Liam is back on his feet in an instant, guard up as he circles me.

Light shining in from the window skews my vision, exactly what he planned, I should have seen it. He chooses that moment to throw a strong punch to my kidney. I barely get away fast enough, the air around his fist moving with the force. My heart is racing, and in a lapse of attention, I miss his non-dominant hand coming toward me.

Liam lands the blow to the bottom of my jaw, it hurts like a bitch, as well as knocking me down onto my back. In a moment fueled by pure adrenaline and luck, I manage to hook my foot around his leg and yank, hard, so he too comes toppling down. Admittedly not the best choice of action, as he almost fell on top of me.

The second his back hits the mat, I'm on him, pressing my forearm to his throat despite the spots still dancing in my vision from the previous impact. He bucks his hips to get me off, but the dragon riding must help because his efforts are futile. After a few more seconds slip by with no change in odds, he taps out.

I get off and help him up. He gives me one of his smiles, but he is still worrying about when I'll manifest. To be honest, so am I.

Sparring rotates until we have all gone up against each squad member. Twice. The urge to smack Aetos upside the head is strong, but the urge to not have cleaning duty is stronger.

Our Squad Leader finally calls it a night, and I was just about to go straight to my dorm and collapse into my bed before Dain asks me to clean up.

Should've smacked him

The rest of the squad leaves. All accept for Ridoc and Sawyer.

"You guys really don't have to help me"

"We know," Ridoc replies.

"But we want to," Sawyer finishes for him.

I decide I'm too tired to argue, and let them help me wipe down the mats to put them away.

Unfortunately, in the silence their thoughts invade my head way too easily. They're filled with their fawning over my fighting style, and I swear it's like they share a brain, because they both obsess sullenly over how Liam got to be under me, and how good his view must have been. It all becomes too much, too fast.

"Oh my gods, will one of you please just fuck me!" I freeze instantly. There is no way I just said those words. I slap my hands over my mouth, eyes wide.

Sawyer just looks guilty, a light pink dusting his cheeks. Ridoc on the other hand, smiles from his inconvenient position by the door.

"What was that, sweetheart?"

"Nothing," I squeak, rushing to put the last mat away and get out the hell out of this room, away from them so I can ridicule myself in private.

'That's certainly one way to get them into bed with you'

Shut up!

Ridoc catches my arm before I can bolt out, pulling me in and pinning me to his chest.

"Did you say you wanted one of us to be your bed mates? Getting lonely in your dorm, hmm?"

"I-"

"How about both of us?" Ridoc has a salacious smile painted across his face while I stand there short circuiting because what the hell did he just offer me?

He scans Sawyer who, despite his blush deepening, looks very much intrigued. Ridoc's rich brown eyes dart back to me once he's sure he's got Sawyer's interest and consent.

"Well?"

My gaze bounces between the two, unsure if this is even real. This is a dream. It has to be.

"Yes? Or no?" he drawls, head tilting from one side to the other. It's like he's taunting me, and it shouldn't be hot, but it is. I can already feel the slick gathering between my legs.

My heart is beating faster than it was during sparring. They can't be serious, they just can't be.

"You're joking," I say, but it sounds more like I'm trying to convince them —and myself— more than an actual statement.

"We're not," I almost jump out of my skin at the sound of Sawyer's voice so close. I was too distracted by Ridoc to notice the other rider had gotten right behind me.

I stare up at Ridoc, my chest heaving as if I'd just run a marathon.

"I- Yes. I want—," I gulp, "I want both of you."

He wastes no time, lifting me over his shoulder and eating up the distance from here to Amari knows where in long strides, Sawyer hot on his heels.

"Whose room are we going to?" the older boy questions.

"No one's"

It takes me a while to notice we're on the second year floor. I don't get the opportunity to say anything before I'm whisked inside a random dorm, and the door is shut behind Sawyer, leaving us in darkness.

One of them activates a mage light, casting a warm glow over the room.

"Whose dorm is this?" I ask.

"Like I told Sawyer, no one's"

Oh. It was someone's, but said someone died, and all their stuff has since been cleared out. I try not to think about it. It's kind of a mood killer.

The breath is knocked out of me as I'm basically tossed onto the bed. Ridoc practically leaps into action, kissing up my neck, caressing my sides while simultaneously —albeit very slowly— undoing our leathers.

My hands find his chest, frantically scrabbling for anything to grip so I can get these clothes off of him. It doesn't help that they are specifically designed to be impossible to grip.

I can feel him smirk against my skin. He's enjoying my struggling. Asshole. I'll show him.

I reach for the back of his head, tugging harshly on his curls. He grunts, but any complaints are silenced when I crash my mouth against his. He sinks into it, grinding down onto nothing, his body hovering too far above mine.

He emits a small whine and I smile. Ridoc loses his patience with our clothing, ripping himself away to grapple with the tough material. We must look ridiculous.

After an embarrassingly long time flailing to get out of our confines, we set eyes on each other. Both breathing heavily and gloriously bare. Ridoc begins another onslaught of kisses rapidly moving down. I buck my hips up, begging for him to put himself where I really need him.

Annoyingly, he does not. In fact, it feels like the closer he gets, the slower he goes.

"Ridoc," I grit out.

"I know, I know, love. Patience"

I want to smack him upside the head. What do you mean 'patience'? You dragged me here. You're the one who has been fantasising about me for months, I've been fucking patient.

An idea comes to mind. I can barely smother the smirk.

"Fine. If you're not going to do anything," I trail off and turn my gaze to the other cadet, "Sawyer?"

Immediately he rips his shirt off, as if he was waiting for an invitation before now. He practically shoves Ridoc away from me and clambers onto the bed to connect our mouths. The ice wielder yelps at being displaced and stares slack-jawed at his friend.

Sawyer doesn't seem to notice at all, too occupied with me to concern himself with anything else. I smile against his lips, letting my eyes flutter closed.

My nails scrape lightly over his back, drawing oblong patterns across the pale skin. Out of the corner of my eye, with my tongue still entangled with Sawyer's, I meet Ridoc's gaze, and smirk.

His mouth falls open as if I've offended his ancestors. I just might have, actually. Who knows what reputation the Gamlyn's have back home? The man above me still seems entirely oblivious to everything around him, and peeking into his thoughts, I can confirm he's thinking of nothing but me. It warms my body in a way I'm unfamiliar with, but completely open to. It feels good. Amazing even, to have two gorgeous men entirely enamoured with me unconcerned with anything else.

It isn't until Sawyer finally comes up for air to start fiddling with the clasp of his belt that Ridoc is shaken from his outraged stupor. He crawls back over to us and begins fondling my boobs from the side, thumbs stimulating the nipples. He slowly brings his mouth back to mine, balancing precariously on his haunches at my side.

Sawyer lets out a small disgruntled sound when he has to temporarily get off the bed to remove his pants and boxers. The ice wielder seizes the opportunity in record time, using to climb on top of me once again. The metallurgist looks positively distressed when he returns to the mattress, and he no longer has access to me.

He tries to shove Ridoc off me a second time, but the other rider is prepared this time, and doesn't budge. "Ridoc, move. You're hogging her," Sawyer complains.

Ridoc responds in true childlike fashion, "You did too. It's my turn."

"I barely had any time at all," he retorts, reaching an arm across my body and under Ridoc, then leaning sideways to make room for himself. They fight each other like that, and if I wasn't so needy and wet, I'd laugh. But that was not our current reality.

"Stop fighting," I whine, dragging out the syllables, "Need you"

This immediately grabs their attention.

"You need who, sweetheart?" Ridoc asks in a quiet, almost patronising voice.

"Both. Need both of you," my breathy words are emphasised by the arching of my back, tempting them further. As if they weren't already tempted enough.

The riders look at each other, then back to me, seeming to have made a silent agreement. Ridoc shimmies down while kissing every inch of skin he can reach. Sawyer goes back to kissing me, but this time it's slow. Full of worship.

His hands dance over my chest, caressing the skin with the same reverence as his tongue laved at mine.

Ridoc's fingers were dangerously close to where I needed him most, skimming the entrance but never dipping inside. I almost cried out when he removed them, however I was quieted by him adjusting his position so that his warm breath fanned over my centre. He used two deft fingers to spread open my folds for his viewing pleasure, and smirked.

He was about to dive in. Like, he was literal milliseconds away from plunging his tongue inside of me when Sawyer pulled away from my mouth, and reached down to yank Ridoc back by the hair with more force than what was strictly necessary.

"How come you get to eat her out first?"

He responds while his hair is still held in Sawyer's firm grip "I'm the one that got us in this situation, it's only fair I get to—"

"Stop! Please just— please," I don't even care how whiny I sound right now, I just need someone to give me an orgasm before I combust.

Sawyer reluctantly relinquishes the other man's curly locks, while Ridoc sports a mocking grin. He is finally, finally allowed to drag a long swipe through the gathered slick. The air is pushed out of my lungs, my eyes rolling back slightly.

It definitely has been way too long since I've gotten laid if just this is rocking my world.

Once he collected as much arousal as humanly possible, he retracts the muscle, savouring the taste of me. A low rumble emanates from his chest.

"You know, you're really missing out, Sawyer. She tastes—"

Ridoc's taunt is abruptly cut off due to his hair being grabbed roughly once again. He is shoved right against my heat, nose sitting between my lips.

"Either eat her out, or I'll show you how it's done"

The challenge sparks something within Ridoc, eyes igniting at the prospect of losing this new contest. Their gazes stay intertwined while the ice wielder makes a meal of me with renewed vigour.

It feels like no time at all has passed before I'm dangling off the edge. Ridoc has his tongue working away whilst his thumb rubs little circles on my clit. Despite Sawyer's earlier complaints, he appears to have no problems just watching his friend devour me. I can't say I blame him. Ridoc has turned into a performance. Not only is he playing my body like a fiddle, but his is moving fluently with him. Almost like he's more liquid than solid. If I could actually lift my torso long enough to really see him, I'm sure I too would be mesmerised.

Release crashes down upon me with no warning. Ridoc doesn't mind though, dutifully lapping up every last bit.

Both of their arousals' are prominent and on full display. I'm breathing hard, Ridoc is donning a dazed smile, his chin glistening, and Sawyer is rubbing circles with one hand on my stomach, and the other on Ridoc's back to help calm us down.

We bask in the stillness for a moment. A very short moment, of course. Ridoc doesn't really do silences after all.

His thumb is back inside of me, just barely penetrating. My walls flutter around the intrusion nonetheless, causing the corners of his lips to curve.

"So eager. So insatiable. What do you want, hmm? Tell us."

At this point, my mind is still muddled. Forming full sentences is daunting. And they'd have to be somewhat coherent too! Fuck that.

"Both"

"You have us, both of us," Ridoc says, like he's trying to console a child, which, honestly? It's not an unfair comparison right now.

"No! Both," I reiterate.

Realisation dawns on them simultaneously.

"At the same time?" Sawyer asks, surprise and shock evident in his tone.

I merely nod, not being able to manage much more. (I could, but I don't want to. Being taken care of feels nice.)

Once more, they communicate with each other, assumedly asking if the other consents and is on board. An eternity passes before the riders subtly nod. First at each other, then me.

"I don't have lube," Sawyer states, addressing a problem I hadn't even thought of. Not that I'm doing much thinking.

Ridoc rushes to his leathers and begins rifling through the pockets, cock swinging between his legs at each jerky movement. We could see him getting increasingly frustrated, but eventually he ripped out a small one use tube of lube and two condoms with a face splitting grin.

"uh uh, no condoms. I'm on the fertility blockers. I wanna feel all of you"

"Fuck me, I was hoping you'd say that," Ridoc groans. However, the ice wielder and I glance at Sawyer to garner his opinion.

He shrugs, "Fuck 'em"

Ridoc throws them down and clamours toward us.

"I was expecting tonight to be fun, but I had no Idea it would turn into this," he says, his eyes appraising my body head to toe.

He connects our mouths, his hands wrap around my waist, lifting me so our bodies are pressed together. Only once we've run out of oxygen does he stop and look to Sawyer.

"Have you ever done anal before?" he turns to me, "Have you?"

Both of us chorus different forms of no.

"Alright then, Sawyer, you take the front, I'll take the back," they move to their positions in tandem. We're all lying on our sides; Sawyer gently starts nudging a finger in, quickly upgrading to two just because of the sheer amount of wetness already there.

They both coo at me as small whines escape. After at least a good five-ish minutes of stretching me out with his long fingers, Sawyer props the bulbous head of his flushed cock at my entrance. Despite our compromising positions, he still has this boyish innocence about him. At least in terms of looks. Inside his head is complete filth, shattering the shy-boy act.

Ridoc's thoughts are no better, but he's never tried to hide it.

Sawyer pushes in just a bit, likely relishing in the sharp exhale it awards him. Gently, he coaxes the rest of his length inside. It fills me perfectly that I have to take a moment to just breathe before commenting.

"So big," it's nothing more than a breath, lighter than mesh, however their sharp hearing, honed for battle, pick it up anyway.

His chest swells almost imperceptibly. The smug look he shoots Ridoc —to which the rider in question no doubt rolled his eyes at— on the other hand, was less so.

"Yeah yeah, whatever, you just keep her still, okay?"

Ridoc squeezes about half the small tube of lube out onto his hand. He warms it up and then fucks it into me, starting right off the bat with two long fingers. A breath is punched out of me, the stretch unfamiliar, yet not unpleasant. His voice is right beside my ear, quietly praising me.

"Good girl, that's it. You can take it," the warm air tickles my neck causing shivers to run down my spine.

After he's satisfied, fitting four digits inside the tight ring of muscles, he squeezes the rest of the tube's contents directly onto his erect dick. Ridoc pumps himself in a way that seems like he's trying to tease me, but is too impatient to actually do so.

"You sure you wanna do this?"

"Uh huh, I'm sure. Promise"

He notches his tip between my cheeks, then stops momentarily to whisper in my ear: "Deep breath for me, okay sweetheart? It's gonna be a big stretch"

Sawyer rolls his eyes so hard, he moves his entire head in an attempt to fully convey his exasperation.

"If we weren't having sex right now, I'd hit you"

"You should do it anyway. I might like it," Ridoc counters.

With that, he thrusts his hips forward, enveloping at least four inches into me.

"Fuck!" I exclaim, scrunching my eyes shut.

"Shit, was that too much at once?"

"No... no, I just. I need a minute"

He accepts my answer, burying his face in the crook of my neck to cover the area in kisses. Sawyer plays with my hair, and mumbles affirmations I can't truly hear, but I like the sound of his voice either way.

I calm down enough to think somewhat clearly. Usually their thoughts would be annoying, but right now, it's just a steady stream of infallible devotion coming from both of them. It's almost too much. Like I need a distraction before the warmth suffocates me.

"Okay, keep going," I murmur.

His hands reposition themselves to curl around my waist. This time, he eases himself in little by little. Even then, sharp exhales escape me periodically causing him to pause. He helps me take him in further by encouraging me to inhale deeply every time he's about to sink in another inch.

It's not long until Ridoc is fully sheathed. He sighs in relief, his body melting into the coverlets as his grip on me tightens. It's grounding in a way I haven't felt since before the executions.

Sawyer leans forward, pressing our chest together and I think he's going to kiss me, but instead his arm snake behind my head to grasp Ridoc's jaw. He pulls him forward so that my back is flush against his chest and their lips collide in a searing kiss. They've crowded me in and I've never felt safer. This is what I want to be waiting for me when I meet Malek.

Sawyer pulls away and his eyes soften as they land on me.

"You ready angel?"

I bite my lip, the anticipation of what's to come roiling around and wreaking havoc on my insides.

Sawyer mimics Ridoc's earlier ultimatum, "Yes, or no?"

I'm tempted to tease them with silence, but decide otherwise.

"Yeah. I'm ready"

"Alright, we'll start with what's familiar," Ridoc declares, signaling Sawyer to move first. He begins with a slow rock and yet even those small movements make me want to moan like I'm being paid to be on camera.

They both try to make it so I just feel Sawyer for now, but it's impossible not to notice Ridoc's girth prodding at my insides, even if it is just by a minuscule amount.

One of my arms reaches for the metallurgist, nails leaving red marks streaked across his freckled skin as I try fruitlessly to bring us even closer. My other arm reaches blindly behind me toward the other man. I hook my fingers around the back of Ridoc's neck to coax force his head down, and turn my head to the side so I could kiss him.

He puts up a net force of zero newtons to dissuade me, eagerly allowing my tongue access. He groans, and I can feel the vibrations reverberate through my skull. He separates us, a thin string of saliva stretching across the distance created.

"Please. Please say I can move, I need to move. Need to feel you," he begs, face pressed against the underside of my jaw. It comes out in pants, as if the act of restraining himself was more strenuous than his daily work outs.

I scan his expression, taking note of the undiluted need in his eyes. I don't know if I'm ready for the pace he'll set. And if I asked him to slow down? I'm not sure he could.

So, I make a compromise.

"Stop," I command. My voice isn't loud, but Sawyer hears it, and obeys without question.

"Keep still. Both of you," Ridoc lets out a whimper. It sounds like he's about to cry; if his face was in view, I think I might actually be able to see tears forming.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay," Sawyer consoles his friend, "I know you're desperate, but we gotta be patient for her."

I can't help but smile to myself. I mean really, the dichotomy of the Ridoc before entering me —suave, confident, the picture of a sex god taken form— and this puddle of desire is truly priceless.

I put them both out of their misery and start rocking back and forth. It feels heavenly. Constantly being filled and empty at the same time is an experience I never knew I needed. The best part? The very evident struggle on Sawyer's face which I'm sure Ridoc mimics ten-fold from having to remain motionless.

Sawyer's hand on my waist trembles with the effort not to leave bruises. Ridoc has thrown caution to the wind, he has one arm under me that curls up just under my breasts keeping our upper bodies together, while the other has a death grip on Sawyer's shoulder.

I want to turn the tables, want to tease them. I want to tell them how well behaved they're being for me but the sensations pouring throughout my body from my own ministrations render me speechless.

"Oh fuck, FUCK! Ple-please don't stop moving. Sweetheart, please, 'm begging you," Ridoc rambles under his breath while Sawyer has his eyes scrunched in effort not to make any sounds. If it weren't for my inntinnsic abilities, I'd think he's in pain, but no. He's just trying really hard not to cum too fast. I'd smile if I wasn't fighting off an orgasm myself.

I can feel them pulsing inside me. Mine and Ridoc's moans synchronise, filling the room's air with a symphony of sounds.

The coil inside me tightened unbearably. Every second that ticked by was a fight to hold on. I could practically hear Ridoc's teeth grinding, both of them clenching their jaws in restraint.

More helpless pleas fell from the ice wielder's lips, however unnecessary they were; I had no intention of stopping.

I couldn't take it anymore. I clenched around the both of them, loud, lewd moans ringing out across the room as I came. I can only manage slight rocking as I come down from my high. Breath still uneven, I realise neither had cum with me. My brows pull into a furrow until I feel warm air skitter along the sensitive skin of my neck, causing shivers to run down my spine.

"You didn't think we were done, did you sweetheart?" Ridoc questions. His voice is taunting, almost cruel, but still sends heat shooting through me.

Fuck. That's the kinda shit I'm attracted to? Oh well, I guess I did always fall for the villain in books.

"Now it's your turn to stay still," Sawyer chimes in, and the gravely tone to his voice surprises me. Who knew he had it in him?

A whimper escapes me, and my thighs clench. Sawyer takes one hand, placing it under my chin to lift my head. He plants a gentle kiss on my nose before whispering; "Hold on darling, this is gonna be a lot, but I know you can take it, huh," he uses his grip to nod my head for me, "Yes, you can. Our good girl"

"Your good girl," I echo dumbly.

"That's right. Nice and loud for us now. Let everyone know"

I didn't get to process that comment before they both pushed in to the hilt simultaneously, effectively rearranging my insides. I (unintentionally) do as told. I let them know, let everyone hear it. Amari, I hope no one finds out it's us. Sex is one thing, no one'll bat an eye at that, but news of a threesome just might pique some interest, and I really don't need extra attention on me.

I shudder at the image of all those thoughts bombarding me. Would it hurt? Would I finally crack? Would people find out I'm a—

My line of thinking is rudely interrupted by them pulling out and Fuck, I think they took my soul with them. Sawyer and Ridoc are so in sync with each other and it's absolutely ruining me. I can't breathe with the practically inhuman pace they've set. It's impossible.

My moans don't have the chance to be loud with the way I can't take a full breath. Lewd wet clapping sounds take their place, along with the other rider's groans.

Their movements are becoming frantic, less precise; they're close.

"Ridoc. Ridoc!" Sawyer gasps in between gulps of air with increasing urgency.

"I know, Sawyer. Believe me, I know. Me too. Are you ready?"

The question clearly isn't for me, yet I scrape together an answer in spite of it, "Wai- wait for me. I'm almost there," I pitch roughly two octaves higher than my usual tone half way through, I am, however, unable to find a fuck to give.

"Help her," Ridoc commands, and yet before he even opened his mouth, Sawyer got the memo to reach down, rubbing my clit in tight figure eights. I thought I was the mind reader.

Everything is too much, as it often is with them. I bite down on the metallurgist's shoulder, hard, certainly much harder than I'd meant to. Sawyer and I are the first to fall, Ridoc following just seconds after.

Gradually they slow their thrusts. helping me come down from the high gently. I watch them kiss each other reverently through bleary eyes, and smile. This really was the best night ever.

I try to fight sleep. Try to find the energy to go again because I don't know what will happen once we leave this room. If the spell will be broken. And if so, I want this to last as long as possible. Unfortunately, I am bound by my own physical limits, and by the looks of it, so are they. We drift off just like that. Still huddled together, gripping each other like it's the last time.

In here, it just might be.

Part 2

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It's been two months stranded on the island. The beach camp had evolved from chaos into something resembling order. Shelters dotted the sand, constructed from salvaged plane parts and palm fronds. A communal fire pit served as the heart of the settlement, where people gathered for meals and warmth and the illusion of normalcy. Rationing systems had been established. A semblance of civilization carved out of wilderness.

But beneath the surface, fractures ran deep. Some survivors still clung to hope. They maintained the signal fire on the ridge, took turns scanning the horizon for rescue planes that never came. Others had accepted the truth: no one was coming. No one knew where they were. This island was their home now, whether they wanted it or not.

And through it all, Jack held them together.

You watched him now from across the camp, standing near the fire pit with a small group gathered around him. His shirt was rolled to his elbows, his hair longer than it had been on the plane, sun-bleached at the tips. He was gesturing as he spoke, explaining something about water purification or food storage. People listened. They always listened to Jack.

He'd never asked for the role or declared himself leader. But in the vacuum left by disaster, someone had to step up, and Jack was the kind of man who couldn't help but take responsibility. It suited him, even if the weight of it showed in the lines around his eyes.

"Doc's got it all figured out, doesn't he?"

You turned to find Sawyer leaning against a palm tree, arms crossed, that perpetual smirk on his face. Being stranded on an island hadn't softened him. If anything, the island had sharpened his edges, turned him more cynical, and combative.

"Someone has to," you said carefully.

"Sure. And we're all just supposed to fall in line? Follow Captain America over there into whatever plan he's cooked up?" Sawyer's drawl was lazy, but there was an edge beneath it. "Funny how nobody voted on that."

"You want to take over, Sawyer? Be my guest."

He laughed, short and sharp. "Hell no. Too much work. I'm just saying, maybe the good doctor shouldn't get too comfortable playing king."

Before you could respond, Jack's voice cut across the camp. "Sawyer. Got a minute?"

Sawyer pushed off the tree with exaggerated slowness. "Duty calls." He sauntered over to Jack, and you watched the two men face off. They were roughly the same height, but everything else about them was opposite. Jack's controlled intensity versus Sawyer's casual defiance.

"We need to talk about the exploration," Jack said, his tone even. "I want to head inland tomorrow. See if we can find fresh water sources, maybe higher ground for a better vantage point."

"We?" Sawyer raised an eyebrow. "You got a mouse in your pocket, Doc?"

"You, me, Hurley, and—" Jack's eyes found yours across the camp, held for just a fraction too long before he looked away. "And her. Four people. We'll be gone most of the day."

"And what if something happens while you're playing explorer? Who's in charge then?"

"Sayid can handle things. He's more than capable."

Sawyer studied Jack for a long moment, then shrugged. "Fine. But if we run into whatever the hell makes that noise in the jungle, I'm using you as bait."

"Noted," Jack says looking at Sawyer.

You turned away before either of them could catch you watching. Two months, and you haven't gotten any better at hiding it. The way your pulse quickened when Jack was near. Or how you found excuses to be wherever he was.

Nothing had happened. Nothing could happen. Jack was the leader. And you were still the fugitive, even if no one else knew it. Even if the marshal's body had been found three days after the crash and buried without ceremony.

Jack watched her walk away and forced himself to focus on Sawyer's complaints about the exploration plan. It was getting harder to ignore the pull he felt toward her. Two months of working side by side, and what felt like a lifetime of wanting something he had no right to want.

She was younger. At least twenty years younger. And even if age didn't matter on this island, even if normal rules had been suspended, there were other complications. The main one being that getting involved with anyone right now was the last thing he should be doing. But God, he wanted to.

He wanted to know what made her smile, really smile, not the careful expression she wore around the others. And the most visceral feeling of it all - he wanted to touch her without the excuse of checking an injury or handing her supplies.

"You even listening, Doc?"

Jack blinked, refocused on Sawyer. "What?"

"I said, what time we leaving tomorrow?"

"Dawn. Pack light."

Sawyer's smirk widened. "You got it, Chief."

As Sawyer walked away, Jack let himself look toward where she'd gone. Just for a moment. Long enough to remind himself why he was doing this. Why he kept going when exhaustion threatened to drag him under. Because she was here. They were all here. Because someone had to keep them alive.

NEXT DAY - Dawn came too early, as it always did. You met the others at the edge of camp, packs slung over shoulders, water bottles secured. Hurley looked nervous, his eyes darting toward the jungle. Jack looked like he hadn't slept, which was probably true.

"Everyone ready?" Jack asked.

"As I'll ever be, dude," Hurley said. "But, like, are we sure this is a good idea? I mean, we don't really know what's out there."

"That's why we're going," Jack said. "We need to know what we're dealing with."

"Could be dealing with nothing," Sawyer offered. "Could be this island's just a regular island and we're all paranoid."

"You believe that?"

Sawyer's silence was answer enough. The jungle swallowed you within minutes of leaving the beach. The temperature dropped, air thick with humidity and the smell of vegetation. Sounds echoed strangely here. The rustle of leaves that could be wind or could be something else. You walked behind Jack, watching the way he moved through the undergrowth with careful precision. He'd found a walking stick somewhere, used it to push aside vines and test the ground ahead.

"Soo what exactly are we looking for?" Hurley asked after an hour of walking. "Like, a Starbucks? Because I would kill for a Frappuccino right now."

"Water sources," Jack said. "Caves, maybe. Anything that could provide better shelter than what we have."

"And if we find whatever makes that freaky noise?"

"We avoid it," Jack says without looking back.

"Great plan, Doc. Real detailed," Sawyer mutters.

Sawyer was in rare form today, his commentary a constant stream of sarcasm and complaints. But you noticed he stayed alert, his eyes scanning the jungle with the same wariness Jack showed. For all his attitude, Sawyer wasn't stupid. He knew the danger as well as anyone.

The terrain grew rougher as you continued. Rocky outcroppings jutted through the jungle, and more than once you had to scramble over fallen trees or navigate around dense thickets. Your legs burned. Sweat soaked through your shirt. But you kept pace, refusing to be the one who slowed them down.

"Wait," Jack said suddenly, raising a hand.

Everyone froze. You strained to hear what had caught his attention, but there was only the usual jungle noise. Birds. Insects. The distant crash of waves.

"What is it?" you asked quietly.

Jack pointed ahead, and you saw it. A break in the vegetation. Something that didn't belong. You moved forward as a group, pushing through the last of the undergrowth, and stopped.

Dull gray metal, partially covered by vines and dirt, set into the ground like a door. But not just any door that would be on a supposably uninhabited island. This was industrial, heavy, with a small window of thick glass at the center.

"What the hell?" Sawyer breathed.

Hurley took a step back. "Dude. That's, like, man-made. Someone built that."

Jack was already kneeling beside it, brushing away dirt. The metal was solid. The symbols were unfamiliar, possibly numbers or letters in a language none of you recognized.

"It's a hatch," Jack said. "Some kind of entrance."

"To what?" you asked.

Sawyer crouched down, running his hand over the metal. "This thing's been here a while. Look at the rust. But it's still solid. Whatever's underneath, someone wanted it sealed tight."

"Should we try to open it?" Hurley's voice was uncertain.

Jack looked up at you, and for a moment, it was just the two of you. His eyes asked a question you couldn't quite read. Trust me? Help me? Be careful?

"Yes," Jack said finally. "We need to know what this is."

It took all four of you to find the mechanism. A wheel, like something from a submarine, hidden beneath more vines. Sawyer and Jack grabbed it first, muscles straiining as they tried to turn it. Nothing. The metal had fused with age and weather.

"Let me help," you said, adding your weight to the effort.

Hurley joined in, and slowly, agonizingly, the wheel began to move. Metal shrieked against metal. The sound echoed through the jungle, loud enough to send birds scattering from the trees.

"Keep going," Jack grunted.

The wheel turned. Once. Twice. Three times. And then, with a hiss of released pressure, the hatch began to open.

Darkness yawned beneath. A ladder descended into shadow, the rungs slick with moisture. Cool air wafted up, carrying a smell of metal and something else. Something sterile and wrong.

"Okay," Hurley said. "This is officially creepy."

Sawyer peered down into the darkness. "Could be supplies down there. Food, medicine, maybe even a radio."

"Could be a trap," you countered.

"Only one way to find out." Jack was already swinging his leg over the edge, finding the first rung of the ladder. "I'll go first. If it's safe, I'll call up."

"Jack!—" you started, but he was already descending.

You watched him disappear into the darkness, your heart hammering. Seconds stretched into minutes. Then his voice echoed up, distorted by the metal walls.

"It's clear! Come down."

Sawyer went next, then Hurley, then you. The ladder was longer than you expected, at least twenty feet down into the earth. Your hands slipped on the rungs, and you had to concentrate on each movement, each careful placement of your feet. When you reached the bottom, Jack's hand steadied you. His touch was warm, solid, and you let yourself lean into it for just a second before stepping away.

The space around you was like something from a Cold War bunker. Concrete walls lined with pipes and electrical conduits. Emergency lighting flickered overhead, casting everything in a sickly yellow glow. There were rooms branching off from the main corridor, doors hanging open to reveal what looked like living quarters, a kitchen, storage areas.

"Someone lived here," you said softly.

"Yeah." Jack moved forward, examining everything with clinical precision. "Recently, too. Look at this."

He pointed to a calendar on the wall. The dates went up to a few months ago. Just before your flight crashed.

"So where are they now?" Hurley asked, his voice small, eyes darting around.

No one answered. You explored carefully, the four of you staying close. The bunker was extensive, far larger than it had appeared from above. There were supplies. Canned food, medical equipment, even books and entertainment. Someone had lived here for a long time. Years, maybe.

But they were gone now.

"This is insane," you said. "What is this place?"

Before anyone could answer, a sound echoed through the bunker. A deep, mechanical grinding. You all froze, looking at each other.

"What was that?" Hurley whispered.

The sound came again, louder. And then, with a finality that made your stomach drop, you heard it. The hatch closing. You ran back to the main corridor, but you already knew what you'd find. The hatch was sealed. The wheel on this side wouldn't budge, no matter how hard you tried.

"No, no, no," Hurley was saying, pulling at the wheel. "Come on, man. Open up."

Sawyer tried next, then Jack, then all of you together. Nothing. The mechanism had locked from the outside, or jammed. You were trapped.

"Okay," Jack said, his voice carefully controlled. "Okay. We don't panic. There has to be another way out."

"Or we're stuck here until someone finds us," Sawyer said. "Which could be never, in case you forgot we're on a deserted island."

"The others know where we went. They'll come looking."

"And how exactly are they supposed to open that hatch from the outside? We barely got it open with four people."

Jack's jaw clenched. You could see him fighting to stay calm, to be the leader everyone needed. "We'll figure it out. In the meantime, we have supplies. Water. Food. We can last a few days if we have to."

"A few days?" Hurley's voice pitched higher. "Dude, I can't be stuck underground for a few days. I'm already freaking out."

"Then don't freak out," Sawyer snapped. "Panicking doesn't help anyone."

"Easy for you to say. You're not claustrophobic."

"We're all claustrophobic right now, Tubby. Deal with it."

"Hey, that's not—"

"Enough!" Jack's deep voice cut through the argument. "Fighting doesn't help either. We need to stay calm and think this through."

You moved away from the group, needing space to process. Underground. For an unknown amount of time. The walls seemed to press in closer, the air thicker. You forced yourself to breathe slowly, to push down the panic threatening to rise.

Jack appeared beside you, his presence solid and grounding. "You okay?"

"Fine."

"You're a terrible liar," ge smirks.

Despite everything, you almost smiled. "So are you."

He didn't deny it. Instead, he looked back at Sawyer and Hurley, who were still bickering. "We'll get out of this. I promise. I'll get you out."

"You can't promise that."

"I can try."

"Jack, I—" you started, but Sawyer's voice interrupted.

"Hey, Doc! You better come look at this."

The moment broke. Jack stood, the mask sliding back into place. "We should see what he wants.You followed him back to the main room, where Sawyer was pointing at the computer screen. The countdown had reached 47 minutes.

"So what happens when it hits zero?" Sawyer asked.

Jack studied the screen, the instructions on the wall. "I don't know. But I don't think we want to find out."

"You think we should enter the code?"

"I think we should be careful. We don't know what this system does."

"Could be nothing," you offered. "Could be someone's idea of a joke."

"Or it could be important." Jack's voice was grim. "We'll watch it. If it gets close to zero, we'll make a decision then."

The bunker felt smaller with each passing second. You'd all tried to rest, but sleep was elusive. Hurley had finally dozed off in one of the bunks, his snoring a constant background noise. Sawyer was sprawled in a chair, eyes closed but not quite asleep.

You and Jack had taken the first watch, monitoring the computer. The countdown was at 10 minutes now. You'd watched it cycle through once already, Jack entering the code at the last moment. The numbers had reset to 108 minutes, and nothing else had happened.

"Do you think it actually does anything?" you asked quietly.

Jack shrugged. "No way to know without letting it run out. And I'm not willing to risk that."

"So we're stuck entering a code every 108 minutes for however long we're down here."

"Looks like it."

You leaned back in your chair, studying him in the dim light. He looked older in the harsh fluorescent glow, the lines around his eyes more pronounced. But there was something compelling about him, something that drew you in despite every reason to keep your distance.

"Can I ask you something?" you said.

"Sure."

"Why did you become a doctor?"

He was quiet for a long moment. "My father was a doctor. A surgeon. One of the best. I guess I wanted to prove I could be as good as him."

"And were you?"

"Better, actually. At least technically. But he never saw it that way." Jack's voice was flat, emotionless. "He died thinking I was a failure."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. He was probably right."

"Jack, don't say that," you say softly.

"I couldn't save him." The words came out harsh, raw. "He was dying, and I couldn't do anything. All my training and I was useless. What kind of doctor does that make me?"

You reached out without thinking, your hand covering his. "The human kind. You can't save everyone."

"I should have saved him."

"Why? Because he was your father? Because you're a doctor? Or because you think you owe him something?"

Jack looked at your hand on his, then up at your face. "All of the above."

"That's not fair to yourself."

"Life's not fair." But he didn't pull his hand away. "What about you? What were you running from?"

The question shouldn't have surprised you, but it did. You'd been so careful, so guarded. But down here, trapped in this bunker with time stretching ahead of you, the walls you'd built felt thinner.

"Everything," you said finally. "I made mistakes. And instead of facing them, I ran."

"What kind of mistakes?"

You hesitated. This was the moment. You could tell him the truth, or you could keep lying.

"I was in love with someone," you said slowly. "Someone I shouldn't have been. And when things went wrong, when people got hurt, I ran. I've been running ever since."

"Until the plane crashed." Jack added.

"Until the plane crashed," you agreed. "Hard to run when there's nowhere to go."

Jack's thumb brushed across your knuckles, a gesture so small and so intimate it made your heart stutter. "Maybe running isn't the answer."

"What is?"

"I don't know. Staying, maybe. Facing things instead of hiding from them."

"Is that what you're doing? Facing things?"

He smiled, sad and self-deprecating. "I'm trying. Not sure I'm succeeding, but I'm trying."

The computer beeped. Five minutes left. Jack pulled his hand away, and you felt the loss of his warmth like a physical ache. He stood, moved to the terminal, entered the code with practiced efficiency. The numbers reset. 108 minutes until you had to do it again.

HOUR 30 - Jack couldn't sleep. He'd tried lying on one of the bunks while Sawyer took a turn watching the computer, but his mind wouldn't shut off. He kept thinking about her hand on his, the way she'd looked at him when he'd talked about his father. She'd opened up, just a little, about her own past. He wanted to know more. And wanted to take away whatever pain she carried.

But more than that, he just wanted her. It was a dangerous thought. He was supposed to be the responsible one. Getting involved with anyone, especially her, was the last thing he should be doing. But God, he was tired of being responsible. He sat up, running his hands through his hair. Across the room, she was curled on another bunk, her back to him. He couldn't tell if she was asleep or just pretending.

"Can't sleep either?"

Her voice was soft, barely audible. She rolled over to face him, and even in the dim light, he could see the exhaustion in her eyes.

"No," he admitted.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

She smiled. "Fair enough."

They lay there in silence, Jack wondered what would happen if he closed that gap. If he crossed the space between them and just... let himself have this. But he didn't move. Because he was Jack, and Jack didn't do reckless things. Even when he desperately wanted to.

HOUR 35 - The bunker had taken on a timeless quality. Without windows, without natural light, it was impossible to tell if it was day or night above ground. You'd all lost track of time beyond the countdown on the computer screen.

Hurley and Sawyer had finally crashed, both of them snoring in their respective bunks. You and Jack had volunteered for another watch, sitting side by side at the computer terminal.

"Do you think they're looking for us?" you asked.

"Probably. But I don't know if they'll find this place. We barely found it ourselves."

"So we could be stuck here for days."

"Maybe." Jack's voice was carefully neutral. "Would that be so bad?"

You looked at him, surprised. "Being trapped underground with limited supplies and no way out? Yeah, I'd say that's pretty bad compared to the hell we've been thrown in."

"I meant..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Never mind."

"No, what did you mean?"

He was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost hesitant. "I meant being here. With you. Away from everything and everyone else. Would that be so bad?"

Your heart hammered. This was the kind of conversation that led to places you couldn't come back from.

"Jack, I'm not sure if you want to hear my-"

"I know." He cut you off."I know all the reasons this is a bad idea. But I-I can't stop thinking about you. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since the day we crashed."

You reached out and took his hand. He looked at the countdown on the screen. 108 minutes. Then back at you.

"We have 108 minutes," he said. "And then we figure it out."

"That's not an answer."

"No. But it's what we've got."

You leaned in and kissed him. It was soft at first, giving him a chance to pull away. But he didn't. Instead, his hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as he deepened the kiss. His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap. You went willingly, your hands fisting in his shirt.

It had been so long since you'd been touched like this. Since you'd let yourself want someone. And Jack was... God, Jack was everything. Strong and gentle and careful, even now, even as his control started to slip.

He pulled back, breathing hard. "We should... there's a room. In the back. More private."

You nodded, not trusting your voice. He stood, taking your hand, and led you through the bunker to one of the smaller rooms. It had probably been an office once, with a desk and a filing cabinet and a small cot shoved in the corner. Jack closed the door behind you, and suddenly the space felt even smaller, more intimate.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his hands on your shoulders. "Because if you're not, if you have any doubts, we can stop. No questions asked."

"I'm sure." You reached up, touching his face. "Are you?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

Jack had imagined this moment more times than he cared to admit. Late at night, lying in his shelter on the beach, he'd let himself fantasize about what it would be like to touch her. To kiss her. To have her in his arms without the weight of responsibility and judgment pressing down on him. But the reality was so much better than any fantasy.

She was soft and warm in his arms, her body fitting against his like she was made for him. Her hands were in his hair, tugging gently at curls, and the small sound she made when he kissed her neck sent heat straight through him.

He wanted to take his time. Wanted to savor every moment, every touch, every gasp. But there was also an urgency to this, a desperation born of two months of denial and the very real possibility that they might not make it out of this bunker alive.

"Jack," she breathed, and the sound of his name on her lips nearly undid him.

He pulled back, his hands shaking slightly as he reached for the hem of her shirt. "Can I?"

She nodded, raising her arms, and he pulled the fabric over her head. She was beautiful. Sun-bronzed skin, the scar on her wrist from where he'd stitched her up that first day. Evidence of survival, of strength. He kissed the scar, then her shoulder, then the hollow of her throat. She gasped, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

"Your turn," she said, tugging at his shirt.

Jack hesitated. This was the moment he'd been dreading. The moment when she'd see him, really see him and realize. He took a breath and pulled his shirt over his head. Then his cargo pants fell to the floor.

Her eyes went to his left leg immediately. To the prosthetic that started just below his knee, the result of an accident years ago that he rarely talked about. He waited for the questions, the pity, the awkwardness that usually followed. Instead, she reached out and touched it. Her fingers traced the edge where metal met skin, gentle and curious but not pitying.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"Sometimes. Not right now."

She looked up at him, and there was no judgment in her eyes. No disgust or discomfort. Just acceptance. "Okay."

That was it. Just "okay." And somehow, that simple word meant more than any reassurance or platitude could have. Jack pulled her close again, kissing her deeply, pouring everything he couldn't say into the kiss. Thank you. I want you. You're beautiful. I'm terrified. I'm falling for you. She responded in kind, her hands exploring his chest, his shoulders, his back. Learning him the way he was learning her.

Jack guided her toward the cot, and she went willingly, pulling him down with her. The mattress was thin and uncomfortable, but neither of you cared. You were too focused on each other, on the way his weight felt pressing you into the mattress, on the way his hands mapped your body with reverent care.

"Tell me what you want," he said, his voice rough.

"You," you breathed. "Just you."

He kissed you again, slower this time, taking his time. His hands worked at the button of your jeans, and you lifted your hips to help him slide them down. He followed the path of the fabric with his lips, kissing your hip, your thigh, the inside of your knee.

"You're killing me," you gasped.

"Good." But there was a smile in his voice. "I want to take my time with you and memorize every inch of you."

"We might not have time."

"Then I'll work fast."

He did, his hands and mouth working in tandem to drive you higher. When he finally settled between your thighs, when his fingers found the heat of you, you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped.

"Shh," he murmured against your skin. "The others."

"I don't care."

"You will if Sawyer makes a comment about it later," he said muffled with his lips against you.

Despite everything, you laughed. And then his fingers moved in a way that made laughter impossible, made everything impossible except the sensation of him touching you, learning you, taking you apart with careful precision.

"Jack," you gasped. "Please."

"Please what?"

"I need... I need you. Inside me. Now."

He groaned, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. God, yes."

He pulled back long enough to shed his remaining clothes, and you took the opportunity to do the same. When he settled over you again, skin to skin, the sensation was overwhelming. He was warm and solid and real, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

"I don't have..." he started, then stopped. "We don't have protection."

"I don't care. I'm pretty sure we're gonna die and I trust you."

"You shouldn't."

"But I do."

He kissed you again, deep and thorough, as he positioned himself. "Tell me if I hurt you. Tell me if you need me to stop."

"I will. "

He pushed in carefully, and the stretch was immediate and intense. He was thick, substantial, and you felt every inch as he filled you. Your breath caught, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your body adjusted to accommodate him.

Jack's eyes locked on yours, searching, watching every flicker of sensation that crossed your face. He didn't ask if you were okay. He didn't need to. He could see it in your eyes, the way your lips parted, the way your body softened and opened for him.

When he was fully seated inside you, he paused, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. His breathing was ragged, his muscles trembling with the effort of holding still. Your hands slid up his arms, feeling the strength there, the tension coiled in his shoulders and back. Fingertips meshing with lean muscle and controlled power, and you could feel him shaking with restraint.

"You feel incredible," he murmured, his voice rough. His hands moved to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples as he began to move. Slow, deliberate thrusts that had you gasping.

He kept his eyes on yours, never looking away, even as his rhythm built. One hand slid down to grip your hip, angling you so he could go deeper, and you cried out at the sensation.

"There," you gasped. "God, right there."

He maintained that angle, that rhythm, his gaze intense and unwavering. You could see everything in his eyes—the desire, the vulnerability, and his overwhelming need. Your hands roamed his back, feeling the flex and shift of muscle as he moved, the way his body worked above you.

"You feel so good," he murmured, his voice strained. "So perfect. I've wanted this for so long."

He angled deeper, his strokes growing more deliberate, each one hitting that perfect spot while his hips ground against you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"Jack—fuck—I'm close."

"Let go. I've got you," Jack rasped against your lips.

The steady rhythm of his body against yours it pushed you over the edge. You came with a cry you barely managed to muffle against his shoulder, your body clenching tight around him.

Jack groaned, his rhythm immediately faltering. "I can't—" His voice broke, frustration and desperation mixing. "I'm sorry, I can't—"

He thrust deep, once or twice, and then you felt it. The hot pulse of his release flooding into you, the way his cock throbbed inside you as he came. It was visceral and intimate, feeling him lose control, feeling the warmth spreading through you.

He buried his face in your neck, his whole body shuddering. "I'm sorry," he gasped against your skin. "It's been so long, I couldn't—I wanted to make it last—"

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. "Don't apologize. That was perfect."

"I finished too fast." There was embarrassment in his voice, vulnerability. "You deserve better than—"

"Jack." You tilted his face up, making him look at you. "That was exactly what I needed. You were exactly what I needed."

For a long moment, neither of you moved. You just lay there, tangled together, breathing hard. Jack's weight was heavy on you, but you didn't want him to move. Didn't want this moment to end.

Eventually, he shifted, rolling to the side and pulling you with him. The cot was barely big enough for one person, let alone two, but you made it work, curling into his side.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his hand stroking your hair.

"Better than okay."

"I didn't hurt you?"

"No. It was perfect. You were perfect."

He kissed the top of your head. "I'm far from perfect." You didn't believe him. He was quiet for a moment, his hand still moving through your hair in soothing strokes. "What happens now?"

"I don't know." You exhaled slowly. "We're currently trapped underground. Eventually someone will find us, and we go back to camp. Back to trying not to die on this island."

"I meant with us." His voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

You tilted your head to look at him. His eyes were serious, searching. "What do you want to happen?"

"I want..." He paused, his jaw tightening. "I don't know. I just know I don't regret this."

"Even though it complicates everything?"

"Yeah. Even though." He looked away, then back at you.

You didn't know what to say to that. Didn't know if there was anything to say. So you just nodded, and he pulled you closer.

You lay there in comfortable silence, your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. His hand traced patterns on your back, and you felt yourself starting to drift.

"Sawyer and Hurley are going to want us to rotate back soon," Jack said eventually, his voice drowsy. "Take the next shift."

"Probably," you say indifferently, not caring if the failure to enter the code results in castaporhe. You only cared about being submerged in freckled arms.

"We should get dressed. Be ready when they come looking," Jack says lazily.

"Five more minutes."

He chuckled softly. "Five more minutes."

But five minutes turned into ten, then twenty. You were both exhausted, the adrenaline and emotion of the past hours catching up with you. Jack's breathing evened out, and you realized he'd fallen asleep. You should have woken him. Should have insisted you both get dressed and gone back to the main room. But instead, you let yourself have this. This moment of peace, of intimacy, of feeling safe in someone's arms.

Just for a little while longer.

HOUR 47 - The banging woke Jack from the deepest sleep he'd had in months. For a moment, he was disoriented, unsure where he was. Then he felt the warm body pressed against his, smelled the scent of her hair, and remembered. The banging came again, louder this time. Voices shouting from above.

"Shit," Jack muttered, sitting up quickly. "They're here. I think tthey found us."

She was already moving, scrambling for her clothes. "How long were we asleep?"

Jack checked his watch. "A few hours. Damn it, we need to get dressed. Now."

They moved with frantic efficiency, pulling on clothes, trying to make themselves presentable. Jack's shirt was inside out. Her hair was a mess. There was no hiding what they'd been doing, but they had to try.

"Do I look okay?" she asked, her voice uncertain.

Jack took a moment to really look at her. Flushed cheeks, swollen lips, hair tangled from his hands. She looked thoroughly ravished, and the sight sent a bolt of possessive satisfaction through him.

"You look beautiful," he said honestly.

"JACK!"

"I know. Come on."

They hurried back to the main room, where Hurley and Sawyer were already awake, looking confused and disoriented.

"What's that noise?" Hurley asked.

"Rescue," Jack said. "Someone found us."

The banging intensified, and then, with a screech of metal, the hatch began to open. Light poured in, blindingly bright after two days in the dim bunker. Voices called down.

"Jack?! You down there?"

It was Sayid. Jack moved to the ladder, looking up at the faces peering down. "We're here. We're all okay."

"Thank God. We've been searching for hours. What happened?"

"Long story. We'll explain when we get up there."

One by one, they climbed the ladder. Hurley went first, then Sawyer. Jack gestured for you to go next, and you started up, acutely aware of his eyes on you. When you reached the top, hands pulled you out into the sunlight. It was late afternoon, the sun beginning its descent toward the horizon. A group of survivors had gathered, their faces relieved.

Jack emerged last, and immediately people started asking questions. What had they found? Were they okay? What was down there?

Jack handled it with his usual calm authority, explaining about the bunker, the supplies, the strange countdown. He didn't mention what had happened between you. Didn't even look at you as he spoke. But you could feel the connection between you, invisible but undeniable. Something had shifted in that bunker.

As the group started back toward camp, Jack fell into step beside you. His hand brushed yours, just for a moment. A silent acknowledgment of what had passed between you.

"Later?" he said quietly, so only you could hear.

"Later," you agreed.

And as you walked through the jungle, surrounded by the others but feeling utterly alone with him, you realized that everything had changed.

The island had brought you together. The bunker had broken down your walls. And now, there was no going back. Whatever came next, you'd face it together. Just like he'd promised.

🌿🌊📗𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘶 𝘹 𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘰𝘵 🌀🐟🌏

-- this ain't over/under but it's damn good. lmk if there should be a full fledged pitt x lost au with all the pittlings... love you all!