Well I take whatever I want
And baby I want you
You give me something I need
Now tell me I got something for you
'Can't Get Enough' Bad Company
Sawyer flopped off Boone's body and lay flat on his back, closing his eyes and letting his breathing even out. He patted the boy's ass with his nearest hand and muttered, "That was good."
"Better than Shannon?" Boone asked, shifting to get his arms under his head and peer at Sawyer.
"Hell, yeah," Sawyer agreed without opening his eyes, "You're much tighter. Give better head too."
Boone smirked proudly, watching Sawyer's face. He wasn't stupid; he knew Sawyer only screwed him sometimes because the thought of him going off with a boy drove Jack mad. Why Sawyer liked to drive Jack crazy so often he wasn't sure, because it wasn't like Jack was gay. Sawyer annoyed Jack endlessly, so how they even managed to play in the same band amazed Boone sometimes. But Jack was… well, Boone liked Jack a whole lot more than he liked Sawyer, in the end. But Sawyer was easier and about as close to Jack as Boone was likely to get.
"So why do you like to stir Jack up so much?" he asked now, unable to resist his favourite topic.
"Jack's an uptight asshole," Sawyer replied easily, opening his eyes and smirking at Boone. "It's the only fun I get, apart from onstage."
"What about all the chicks?"
"Oh yeah, them too." Sawyer's sexy smirk was broad.
"So, you and Jack. How long have you known each other now?"
Sawyer rolled his eyes and stared at the ceiling, his hand lightly stroking Boone's bare ass. "About eight years. Since we started the band. But you know that. You just wanna get me going on your favourite subject, don't cha?" He offered Boone a knowing look.
Boone grinned. "Well, he barely talks to me, how else am I gonna find out more about him?"
"You know most of it already by now, I'd'a thought?"
"Maybe." Boone shrugged, looking away.
"Anyway, the repressed bastard ain't about to get more relaxed just 'cause I'm fucking his biggest fan," Sawyer announced, giving Boone's ass one last squeeze before rolling over to find a cigarette.
Boone snorted, watching Sawyer light up the smoke. He was so sexy when he did that. Mind you, there wasn't much that Sawyer did that wasn't sexy. No wonder he had women—and men—falling all over themselves to screw him. Including both Boone and his sister, Shannon, who were following the band on tour this year.
They'd both fallen in love with Constant Daze the first gig they went to, and had been to every show they could since then. Shannon just wanted to 'let her love flow' as the Bellamy Brothers would have said, and had tried her hardest to work her way through the band members' beds, although Jack's, as ever, was the one she still couldn't manage to get into, try as she might. Sawyer, of course, had been dead easy.
Boone was more into the deep secrets hidden behind the band's piano player and rhythm guitarist's hazel eyes, but the only insight he'd gained in the last couple of years was from sleeping with Sawyer, the sensual and open lead singer, who you could just imagine in bed with you as he made love to the microphone and the audience on stage every time.
The rest of the band didn't interest Boone overmuch, although they were good musicians and easy enough to get on with backstage.
Desmond, the wild haired and boozy drummer was everyone's 'brother', and although he sometimes gave in to insistent females like Shannon, he was clearly smitten with his one true love, Penny. She was usually on tour with him, in any case, and able to fend off his unwanted admirers with ease and aplomb.
Then there was happy-go-lucky Charlie, the bass player, who'd fallen for Claire, the Australian groupie that had been hanging with Boone and Shannon for some of the tour, until Charlie asked her to go with him. She was sweet, if a little naïve about what he did when she wasn't looking, but Boone was pretty sure he cared more than it appeared. He never hurt people on purpose, but then who did?
The last member of the band was still a bit of an enigma to Boone. Sayid was new to the group, having just joined during their recently finished tour of the UK. He was a lead guitarist of amazing ability, and if it wasn't for his Middle Eastern heritage, Boone thought he'd probably have been snapped up by someone bigger than Constant Daze in a second. He had replaced Ethan, an all-American player with a huge drug habit that had finally pushed him out of the band and into the annals of history along with all the other 27-year-old dopers who had died too soon. As far as Boone was concerned, Sayid had more talent, and Ethan had wasted so many opportunities, spending most of his time living the band's name out in reality. But he wasn't one of the song-writers, and his passing was already forgotten by half the fans.
Sayid was… well, he was gorgeous, frankly, but Boone didn't dare go near him, usually. He had this way of looking disdainfully down his nose at people like Boone, like he couldn't understand why a grown man could moon over the members of a band the way he did. He didn't seem so averse to Shannon's attentions though, Boone thought wryly, quirking up his mouth in a half-smile.
Reaching out to steal Sawyer's cigarette, Boone wondered if the other members of the band, apart from Jack, really cared who Sawyer screwed. Boone thought his bisexuality something of an open secret with them, but the man didn't exactly advertise who he took to his hotel room on nights like tonight - aside from letting Jack know, that was.
Jack, who Sawyer insisted on winding up at every opportunity.
"You ever try to get Jack into bed?" Boone tried, feeling brave for some reason. He'd never asked that before.
"Jack?" Sawyer looked at him in surprise, stealing his smoke back and taking a deep drag. "He's as uptight as they come. He'd never sleep with a guy."
"Are you in love with him?"
Sawyer almost choked on the cigarette, then he laughed. "Fuck, no! That's your job, ain't it, California?"
"It never occurred to you to try getting into his pants?" Boone ignored the implication.
"It occurred to me, sure; but he ain't my type. Anyway, I'm not gay."
"What do you call this, then?" Boone rolled onto his back to show his obvious masculinity.
"I call this a good time," Sawyer said, his smirk growing. "You up for another round, boy?"
Boone smiled and reached for Sawyer again.
Sawyer stubbed out the cigarette and dragged Boone closer, filling his mouth with his smoky breath and heated tongue. Boone melted into it, reaching for Sawyer's already firming cock and pressing his own reawakened hard-on into the man's thigh.
"C'mere and ride me this time, huh?" Sawyer suggested, grinning at him.
Boone liked being on top almost as much as Sawyer liked him to do it, so he happily obliged, not bothering with more lube or other preparation, having already been fucked into the mattress once. Sliding himself slowly down onto Sawyer's hot prick, Boone closed his eyes and imagined it was Jack under him as the other man's warm hands grasped his hips firmly and began to rock him.
"Oh, so fuckin' good." Sawyer moaned like something out of a bad porno.
Boone didn't care though, he just kept moving. Sawyer grunted and thrust up harder, gripping his hips firmly enough to bruise. Boone knew Sawyer didn't care so much about his pleasure—although it always felt pretty damned good when he was inside Boone—so he wound a hand around his own cock and began stroking, thinking about Jack's strong hands playing his flesh like he stroked his piano keyboard, all relaxed and easy but with total attention to detail.
It didn't take much, not with Sawyer's hard flesh moving inside him as he touched himself. Sawyer grunted more loudly as Boone contracted around his cock, coming wetly over both of them, and then Sawyer was tensing and emptying himself inside Boone.
"Fuck," Sawyer gasped, pulling him off bodily and dropping Boone back to the tangled sheets next to him.
"Mmm," Boone murmured, imagining curling up next to Jack and feeding him the come from his sticky fingers.
But Sawyer didn't do that; he left all the licking and sucking to Boone. He'd wrinkled his nose and looked at Boone like he was sick the one time he'd suggested the man try it. Somehow, Boone doubted Jack would be so one-sided if he went with him - not that he ever would, being so steadfastly straight and all. Juliet, his cold and austere girlfriend, was one lucky bitch, presuming they actually slept together. Boone giggled to himself at the thought of her directing Jack exactly where to put it and how fast to move.
"What's so funny, Sunshine?" Sawyer asked as he wiped the come off his belly with the crumpled sheet
"Nothing." Boone grabbed at the sheet to clean his fingers. He got off the bed and found his jeans, kicking into them before pulling his t-shirt over his head. "I better go."
"Good," Sawyer rasped, settling back in the pillows and dragging the sheet up to his waist.
Boone gave him a lop-sided smile, and bent to pull on his boots. Sawyer didn't give a shit about anyone really, and Boone was glad he wasn't in love with the bastard. Jack, for all that he practically ignored Boone, was a much better person and far more worthy of his adoration. But the sex with Sawyer was pretty hot, he had to admit; that was the main reason he came back for more any time Sawyer showed interest. That, and the fact that he knew more about Jack than anyone else, except maybe Juliet; not that Boone was going to get all cosy with her to ask as many questions as he did with Sawyer. He really couldn't imagine anyone getting cosy with her.
"Seeya," Boone offered casually, blowing Sawyer a kiss just to piss him off.
Sawyer gave him an unamused smile. "Sure, darlin'. Don't trip over your tongue if you see Jack in the hallway."
Boone shook his head as he shut the door, running a hand through his tousled hair. "I should be so lucky," he murmured to himself.
Looking up, he was surprised to see Sayid standing at the end of the hallway, leaning against a wall and smoking what smelled like a joint. The man eyed him quietly, and took another drag. Boone glanced back at the door he'd exited, wondering if Sayid knew whose room it was, then ambled as casually as he could towards the guitarist. Sayid watched him approach, but still said nothing.
"Can I have a puff?" Boone asked, sure Sayid would turn him down.
Sayid shrugged and held out the joint in elegant fingers. Boone didn't normally smoke pot, preferring to have his faculties in place in case he did something wholly inappropriate around Jack. He took the joint carefully and put it to his lips.
"So pretty," Sayid remarked, his eyes sweeping over Boone's figure. "Do you always let Sawyer fuck you whenever he wants?"
Boone held the smoke in, studying Sayid's eyes as he handed the joint back. He looked pretty stoned, and Boone wondered why he cared. Perhaps he was more caught up in his religion than he appeared. Homosexuality was even more of a sin to Muslims, or so Boone thought. His own Catholic background wasn't so hot on it, but at least they didn't chop people's hands off… or worse.
Finally letting out the smoke, Boone answered, "He's hot, what can I say?"
"I thought it was Jack you liked?" Sayid said, query in his eyes as he took another drag.
"It is, but he's straight." Boone leaned casually against the wall opposite Sayid. "And Sawyer likes me, so…" He finished the sentence with a shrug.
"Sawyer doesn't generally go with boys though, does he? I've seen him with plenty of girls."
"As far as I know, I'm the only one," Boone agreed, nodding.
Sayid smoked silently for a moment, then held the joint out to Boone again across the hallway. Taking it, Boone took another deep pull and offered it back, closing his eyes and leaning back again. He was feeling pretty mellow now; the sex and the drug combined were relaxing him wonderfully.
"Do you really like the music, or are you just here for Jack and Sawyer to play with?" Sayid asked, making Boone open his eyes again.
"What do you care?" Boone frowned for a moment. "Jack doesn't play with me at all; he barely speaks to me."
"Jack'd be in your position in a heartbeat," Sayid said, sultry eyes travelling over Boone's slim figure.
Boone snorted. "No he wouldn't. He doesn't like how Sawyer spreads himself around. He's got morals. He'd never sleep with as many people as Sawyer does."
"Is that what you think?" Sayid raised his eyebrows, then took another pull on the joint.
"Of course," Boone replied, "and anyway, he has a girlfriend. He's so not gay, it's not funny. Not for me, anyway." He dropped his eyes, studying his scuffed toes.
"Oh, I don't know," Sayid murmured, causing Boone to look up in surprise.
"Why would you say that?" he asked, sure the shock must be showing on his face.
"You didn't see the expression on his face when you and Sawyer left the room together. Maybe it's you he wants, but after the way he and Sawyer act when they're together, I doubt it." Sayid gave him a cool look, drawing more smoke into his lungs.
"Give me that," Boone demanded, stepping closer to get the joint and taking an even longer hit. "Don't make me think…" he managed, after letting the smoke out again, "He's not gay. He's not even bi, like Sawyer. He isn't." He shook his head to emphasise the point. How dare Sayid suggest such a thing? Even if Jack was the least bit gay—which he wasn't—he certainly wasn't interested in Sawyer; he couldn't be.
Sayid shook his own head, a small smile across his lips. He scratched his eyebrow, and then put the joint, which he'd delicately removed from Boone's hand in the interim, back into his mouth. Boone retreated to his side of the hallway, hands behind him, and glared at Sayid. The good feelings had disappeared with Sayid's words.
Continuing to smoke quietly, Sayid turned his eyes back to Boone after a few moments. Boone glowered at him, unsure why he was still standing there. Sayid's eyes flashed with something and suddenly Boone felt hot all over. What the fuck was that? A slow smile started on the other man's face and he coolly lifted the joint back to his mouth. Boone couldn't help watching his lips caress the tip of the hand-rolled cigarette as he inhaled, and a shiver ran right through him as Sayid's tongue-tip flicked out when he removed the joint from his mouth.
Boone found his breathing had sped up and Sayid was studying him like a snake about to consume some animal whole.
"Fuck," he whispered, and took a step away from the wall.
The light and shadows danced around them, the walls shimmering unevenly like they were made of jelly. Boone let out the breath he hadn't even realised he was holding, and stumbled past Sayid, heading for the stairway. Laughter echoed behind him as he practically fell down the steps, gasping hard, his heart beating a wild tattoo inside his chest.
By the time he made it across the parking lot to his car, he was feeling nauseous and, grasping the door handle, doubled over, spewing hot bile onto the ground under him.
Fuck! What on earth was in that dope?
Spitting for a few minutes afterwards, Boone straightened up, scowling at the mess at his feet. He dug for the car keys and, stepping carefully over the vomit, glanced back up at the hotel as he climbed into the car. He thought he could see Sayid's dark form at the stairwell window, but he couldn't be sure. What the fuck had that been about?
Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he shakily turned the key, getting the little car underway. Shannon was probably screwing one of the roadies tonight and wouldn't be back to their cheap motel until morning, thankfully. He could use a hot shower and some tea to shake off the drug and Sayid's heated look from his memory.