janie_tangerine | Fic, Lost: Rear Window (Desmond/Sayid), light NC17 I guess, for <lj site="livejournal.com" user="los

This thing makes me so nervous. So really nervous.

Title: Rear Window
Pairing: Desmond/Sayid
Rating: light NC17 I guess, or very hard R
Disclaimer: well, if this ever happened on that show it means that I'd write for it. Which is not the case.
Word count: 1200
Spoilers: General S4 and maybe for Eggtown specifically, but as long as you've seen Ji Yeon you're safe.
Summary: The visions in the Further Instructions airport are usually showing reality, right?
A/N: using for

lostpicksix #14, voyeur. Now, this thing is all

elliotsmelliot's fault ♥. She got the image into my head and I couldn't shake it away. And it wanted to be sort of smut so it is. Not that I feel comfortable at sex without plot still, but well, it should be at least decent. I hope. I wanted to call it Even Further Instructions at first but then I settled for having Hitchcock and James Stewart killing me again in the afterlife. And now I guess it won't haunt my dreams anymore ;)

He sees them first when they appear on the top of the escalator, slowly making their way down.

Desmond is wearing a pilot uniform; the dark blue jacket is just a bit loose on him, a white shirt and a red tie underneath, his hair neatly cut and cleaner than it ever was on the island, falling in neat waves over his shoulders. Sayid stands near and his arm is hooked around Desmond’s; he wears a pair of dark jeans and a short sleeved blue shirt, his hair combed back into a tail. They don’t actually move but rather wait for the escalator to descend; at certain points Sayid says something right over Desmond’s ear and the corner of Desmond’s mouth twitches into a small smile, while Sayid shakes his head and they both lean on the hand rails, not breaking their contact.

He watches mesmerized as everything seems to flow in an extremely slow motion; it takes a while before they leave the escalator and when they do, they take a few steps before Sayid stops. Desmond turns to him, leaning a bit down, and their lips brush once, twice, three times.

Desmond nods at Sayid and they turn one corner, heading straight for a lounge. On the door, there’s a sign reading attendants only.

He comes closer and gets in anyway; he has this idea that they aren’t seeing him, as Jack, Kate and Juliet, who were seemingly checking in at some flight, haven’t seen him before when he passed near them.

When he’s in, Desmond’s back is against a wall, one of his hands getting rid of the band holding up Sayid’s ponytail. It drops to the ground while a mass of black curls falls slowly over Sayid’s shoulders and Desmond’s hand threads in there, bringing Sayid’s head closer.

There’s another kiss then, slow and seemingly long, so long; their lips brush again at first, then Sayid gets a bit closer and Desmond’s part eagerly. A sigh can be heard when Sayid’s hand goes to Desmond’s cheek, his thumb swirling in a circular motion just below his eye; the other one is on Desmond’s hip, below the jacket, while Desmond is keeping his right one steady on the small of Sayid’s back.

It’s not long before Desmond’s jacket falls to the ground and Sayid’s hands start slowly undoing the buttons of the white shirt after loosening the knot of the tie (which is on the ground alongside the jacket by now). Desmond’s head rests against the wall, a shiver shaking him when Sayid’s mouth brushes over his neck, his tongue flickering for a couple of seconds on the skin of Desmond’s shoulder. Desmond’s grip on Sayid’s hips gets stronger by the second.

Then Desmond’s shirt is opened, exposing his chest; Sayid’s hand now roams over it, his palm tracing Desmond’s hip line. He smiles when a small moan escapes from Desmond’s mouth, then moves forward in order to meet Desmond’s lips again, his tongue slowly tracing them both, lower firstly and upper secondly, before they kiss again.

They don’t break it while moving from the wall to a couch nearby; they stumble over it with a certain gracefulness, all things considered, Desmond’s hand quickly undoing the buttons of Sayid’s shirt which in no time hangs open as his own.

There’s some speaking then, even if not really intelligible, maybe because everything looks so ethereal and out of perspective here; Sayid gets rid of Desmond’s belt in a few seconds, even if he’s extremely slow and careful in slipping it out and lowering it on the ground. Meanwhile, Desmond undoes the button holding up his jeans, his hands gripping the cushions of the sofa when Sayid takes him in hand, his tongue slowly tracing over the skin behind Desmond’s ear. Desmond raises his hips at a sudden, thrusting up, his head a bit reclined, his neck exposed; his moans become louder when Sayid’s mouth moves down, just below his neck, their bodies so impossibly close.

Desmond bites Sayid’s shoulder when he comes not much later, a half strangled moan escaping his lips when his teeth leave the skin there, the mark will probably stay a while, a blissful expression draped along his features, his eyes closed. He says something but again, everything moves so slowly and it’s impossible to understand any dialogue if not for the cadence and the tone. It’s warm and low and then he opens his eyes, exactly when Sayid brings his hand up and slowly licks one of his fingers; just one though, since Desmond grabs his wrist and well, the visual of each one of Sayid’s fingers coming clean out of his lips is damn something.

He stands against the wall, watching the whole scene, realizing that he shouldn’t hold his breath because they can’t see him, but he holds it anyway, especially now, when they’re turning, switching position, Desmond on top of him.

They sure are a good match, he thinks observing them, Desmond’s golden tan against Sayid’s dark complexion, locks of Desmond’s long hair falling all over the skin below Sayid’s neck while his mouth leaves a trail of kisses along his chest and then goes down, down and down.

Sayid’s hands grip the cushions and his hips thrust up a bit, then they move and he grips Desmond’s hair, though not strongly; the grip becomes stronger when Desmond takes him deeper, a loud and satisfied moan escaping his mouth.

Desmond’s head moves up and down for a while, might be long, might be short, smaller moans escaping his lips too, until Sayid’s hips thrust up again with a stronger motion and then he says something, probably not in English. Then he mutters something else that has to be Desmond’s name and then suddenly he comes shivering, while Desmond doesn’t move and just swallows down; when it’s over, he can barely distinguish Desmond kissing Sayid slowly, his lips translucent for that second in which he saw them.

Then everything seems to shrink, his perception becomes even more distorted, the walls close down on him like a crumpled piece of paper and Sawyer sits up straight into his bed, sweating, feeling nauseated. He can’t even find the strength to shout and tell Hurley to turn the fucking Michael Jackson down, or whatever crap he’s listening to.

He stands up, cursing himself first for asking Locke whether he had an idea of how everyone else was and Locke secondly because he actually went, gave him that paste and said that last time he used it, it worked quite perfectly.

Goddamn, he never got high his whole life, never more than whatever joint once in a while he had before dropping from school anyway, and now Locke of everyone makes him go Easy Rider and have a trip involving Desmond and Sayid fucking of anything.

He steps into the shower scowling, turning the cold water on; like hell he’s ever going to try something such as that ever again in his life. Also because if that whole thing meant that those two were really... somewhere... oh, damn, he thinks trying to shake from his head the image of Desmond licking Sayid’s fingers.

Ignorance is fucking bliss sometimes.

End.