Sweet Abandon

Characters: Sawyer and Ana

Status: Complete

Description: A filler fic for Two for the Road in my "she didn't die" imagination LOL. Sawyer's thoughts after he has sex with Ana Lucia and what happens next

I disclaim.

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That woman wouldn't know a good time if it ran up and bit her on her tight little militant ass.

Of course that was all before today.

Saywer stared out into the horizon while mindlessly grasping at sand, letting tiny grains shift through his fingers, over and over again. The sea was unusually calm, with waves rolling gently, tempting one to think it was possible to just float away. Float away.

What a difference a lay makes.

Usually the mere mention of Ana Lulu would make his jaw ache with some phantom pain worse than a damn trip to the dentist without the Novocaine. He'd see her traipsing out of the jungle -- usually with Dr. Chuckles all pepsodent smiles with that damn stick strapped to her hip-- and his whole body would involuntarily tense-up. Jaw clenched so tightly he could nearly break-off a tooth. Any thought of Mad Maxine consisted of tiny fists flying and him ducking and moving and cursing Pain, that woman brought nothing but pain.

Of course that was all before today -- before Sweet Cheeks smacked him with a different brand of tough lovin'.

Sawyer shook his head and got comfortable against the mangled remnants of an Oceanic plane seat, trying to re-divert his attention to a manuscript recovered from the wreckage. It read like your typical drugstore paperback mystery. Still, it was sure to be better than the movie version. He chuckled cynically. Too bad the tenplex cinema hadn't quite made it to Hell Island yet.

He licked his thumb and fought against a gust of wind to turn the mangled page. Letting out a long sigh, he spit out salty grains of sand from the tip of his tongue one at a time, almost wanting to savor the taste. The assaulting island atmosphere could be bitter and sweet all at once, always unmistakable. Like her sweaty flesh at his lips. Like strands of her hair in his mouth. Like soft flesh of her inner thigh against his cheek. Like potent jungle love.

He couldn't deny that the mini drill sargent in her uniform or denim and spandex caught his eye somewhere on the other side of the island. Seeing her in those tight jeans slung low, huggin her slender hips and round ass -- that sight damn near drove him crazy everyday. He hadn't had sex in a mighty long time, after all. Heck, here he had all the time in the world to wallow in his unfulfilled manly needs. But it was more than that. Hell yea, a whole lot more.

It was all good. Yes indeed. Freckles was no longer in his head. She had been effectively erased. Whatever she had gone off to do with Dr. Goodbar was of no concern to him. Hell, not even the putrid smell of sea air that was never kind to his ever-empty stomach, nor that damn dog sniffin' around for non-existent scraps bothered him.

He was quite mellow now, like in a narcotic induced haze. He hadn't felt this relaxed since that one night in Australia, nursing bar-fight wounds with some Aborigone chick and a bottle of bourbon.

He decided to savor this feeling, knowing full well that pain would make a strong comeback soon enough. There were already bruises on the bony part of his shin just the size of the bottom of Rambina's boots. His back was raw, right where her fingernails had dug deep into his flesh.

Damn. Ms. Moctezuma had to hang on tight while riding the Sawyer wave he supposed, letting out an audible, boastful laugh. That gal was wild -- hip bucking, body slamming wild. He had barely known what hit him, but good to know he had given as good as he got.

Ha. Wouldn't have guessed it. Sex with Rambina wasn't like a ride to hell at all. Oh but it was a ride alright. Hard to judge fairly seeing as he hadn't had sex in longer than. . .well longer than ever. Those shapely thighs wrapped around him tight like a vice grip . . he finally found out what came between her and her Calvin's.

"Ana Lucia gives her best."

"Wha.." He flinched at the voice, at first thinking that she had read his mind or maybe witnessed his little R-rated roll in the jungle. She was interrupting at a good part, both the script and his thoughts, so he waited a second before acknowledging her presence. Waited another second, hoping she would go away.

She moved closer to him, blocking out the late afternoon sun, getting in the way of his light.

"She told me to tell you that."

"Oh did she now," he growled, shifting his groin, thinking that he had already gotten Ana Lucia's best or something about damn close to it. And if that wasn't her best, then he would surely let her have another try.

He looked up and past Kate to see if anyone in particular had lagged behind her. By now he was pretty much used to being ambushed by the island 5-0, demanding rations of aspirin and pregnancy tests. Running the island drugstore sure was a thankless job.

"So Jane , where's Tarzan? Swinging through the jungle looking for a fight? Don't you have run hold his banana?"

"Knock it off Sawyer. And since when did you become so chummy with Ana Lucia . . ." Her voice trailed off. "Just curious." She folded her hands across her chest and he cranked his neck.

"Curious? Well now . . .curiousity killed the cat, Kate." He licked his thumb again and turned the page dramatically, almost ripping it in half. Tarzan and Jane, he was pleased at that quip, cuz any mention of how she had the hots for Doco always got her borrowed panties in a twist.

"Sorry I ain't more hospitable Pipi," he mumbled while studying his page. "But you're blocking my light and I'm getting to the good part of the story so skedaddle"He waved her off with grand gesture to no avail.

She put her hand on her hip, huffing louder than the crashing waves. "He's going to be coming for the guns . . .Jack. Just giving you fair warning."

Sawyer put down his script and lowered his brow into that Jack-inducing scowl."Oh is he now. Well damnit, let Dr. Do-right come then. Same deal different day. "

"We need those guns, Sawyer. Just give them up. "

"Everybody and their mama needs a gun. Add it to your Christmas list." Sawyer reached behind his back . . . nothing. "Maybe Santa will oblige if you are a good little ..." There was nothing there, nothing between him and his Calvin's. Damn.

"Ahh crap. Damn that woman. She stole my damn gun."

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The underbush cracked loudly under Sawyer's heavy foot stomping. He moved swiftly into the heart of the jungle, cursing under his breath and nearly breathing steam out of his nostrils. He didn't know who he was more pissed at -- her for stealing his gun, or himself for letting her do it and taking so damn long to realize it.

The thick trees above allowed only slivers of orange light from the setting sun to seep through. He didn't bring a torch with him, and certainly didn't have a flashlight. This would be quick though, lickety split -- get to the hatch and get his gun back -- pry it right out of Ana Oakley's little fingers. The nerve of that...

"You always talk to yourself."

He stopped in his tracks. That voice made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and he balled his fists before knowing it. He turned slowly as to not making any sudden moves, but was still ready to pounce, or duck, or brace himself.. The gal was quick and a bit off her rocker.

"Yea funny you should ask. I am asking myself . Now why would the Muchacha think she could get away with stealing my piece. It's a small island Ponce. The voyage is over."

She stood about five feet from him. Both of them at a standoff in the middle of the jungle. Her face was full of strength and defiance. Such a fierce look mucking up what otherwise was a lovely face. She was like a cherub with all the wild, wavy raven locks and round face. A sweet-cheeked cherub with a really bad attitude.

"Well funny I did get away with it, now didn't I," she answered dryly with one hand on her hip.

"Ut uh." He had the entrance to the path effectively blocked. She wasn't getting past him He grabbed her elbow before she could brush past and pulled her close. She jerked a bit, which only made him grasp her tighter. "You aint that clever Speedy." He dropped his voice to a low drone, looked her straight in the eye. "Now hand me my gun. Now."

"Or else what?"

Smiling without humor, he drew her warm hard body against his in one swift jerk. She wrapped one of those shapely thighs around to the back of his knee, crotch resting right on his hip. This was the "take em down maneuver" for certain. He locked his leg to block her move. He was one step ahead this time. He knew every trick in her book already, read it twice.

Lowering his mouth to her ear, almost grazing her ear lobe with his lips, he delivered his second warning. "You don't really want to find out. We can stand here all night if you want. This could be as easy or as hard as you want to make it. But you are going to give me my gun back."

Truth be told she was making it hard in more ways than one. The heat of her body pressed up against him,writhing and untamed -- that silky smooth skin like warm honey. He didn't know how long he could hold out. Hell, what was he talking about. No woman could get into his head like that. It was against the rules.

As he snapped himself back into the reality above his belt, he felt her resistance begin to subdue as she reached around to her back.

"You know Sawyer as much as you love this gun you ought to put a wig on it and call it your girlfriend. Still doesn't mean your gettin it bac..."

Before she could finish that sentence, Sawyer twisted her body hard, which sent her falling back onto the ground with a thud. It wasn't his fault she landed that hard, so hard that her hand jerked above her head, dislodging his gun. Bingo.

"Well well here were are again muchacha." Sawyer locked his thighs around his hips, not letting her slither, or buck her way out. Not that it wouldn't have been fun. But he was sapped of most of his energy already and wasn't in the mood to wrestle with her.

Her dark eyes bore straight through him, glistening intensely, visible even in the weakened sun rays of early evening. The bloodshot red that rimmed her pupils told him that she was or had been crying.

"What's wrong with you." He didn't know why he asked, didn't know why it mattered.

She tilted her head back, gesturing towards the gun. "You can have your gun. Now let me up."

There was now weary sadness in her voice. Was this a ploy, another trick? He wasn't falling for it. Still he couldn't help but examine her closely. "What happened to your forehead." Sawyer noticed a gash right below her hairline that hadn't been properly bandaged. He hoped it wasn't the result of rough sex. He didn't need that rep on the island on top of everything else.

"Wha, you are just noticing that? Sheeze. Let me the hell up Sawyer."

"Just a sec . . . settle down woman." He frowned at her annoyance and stubborn resistance. And here he was doing the unthinkable by showing her a modicum of concern. "What happened? In the hatch. Why do you need the gun so bad?"

"What's it to ya." she jerked again slightly, testing his restraint. But he wasn't ready to let her go yet. She wasn't getting off that easily.

"Oh I'll let you up. First tell me what I need to know. Your forehead?."

She let out a long sigh and gazed off into the distance. "Henry, the guy they have in the hatch. He tried to kill me today. So I took your gun. I went down there to kill him."

An eye-for-an-eye kind of chick, should have guessed it. "So Mr. Magoo is dead?"

"No. I couldn't do it." She looked away from him and shut her eyes. Through a cracked voice she told him to take his damn gun and leave her alone.

Sawyer eyed the gun laying in a thick of grass, then pulled her up. Her solemn expression shocked him. In a strange way it softened her. This raging wild beauty seemed to be finally folding under the weight of the horrors the island had brought to everyone.

"Now don't go gettin' like Dr. Giggles. All tensed up and angry, fightin' a losing battle. Now aint he a barrel of monkey's."

She smirked while quickly swiping under her eye. There wasn't enough light now for him to tell if she was crying. He didn't want to know in all honestly. He didn't need no weeping broad on his hands.

"You think, fighting these people -- these savages is a losing battle?"

He cut her off before she got going on another angry rant about vengence and doom. "We lose one battle, but we win the war. But I know one thing, if ole Hank lays another hand on you I'll kill him myself.."

Smirking wryly, she jerked her head back as her dark eyes grew wide.

"Now don't get all tingly. I ain't the chivalrous type. They have it coming for lots of reasons. I don't need much of an excuse to kill one of em."

As he went on trying to convince her that his offer to protect her wasn't anything to get excited over, she scooted herself closer and wrapped her legs around his hips. They fit too perfectly there.

"What makes you think I need you to fight my battles anyway." She drapped her arms over his shoulders; her face was so close to his that he could feel her eyelashes flutter against his cheek.

"We're in this together Rambina, whether you like it or not."

Those words were like a release, a sweet abandon. He would surrender to her -- this time without a fight, more than willingly. Slipping his hands under her arms, he leaned back and pulled her on top of him. He waited for her to make the next move but she seemed to fall listless -- her petite form completely yielding and melting into him. Grasping both of those sweet cheeks in his palms, he got lost in the cushion of her lips and savored the deep warmth of her kisses. .

He helped her as she unbuckled his belt and slipped off his shirt. She caressed her soft lips along the span of his chest with tiny pecks, moving down to his navel and he wanted to holler have mercy. Instead he focused on the rustling palms above. Twirled locks of her hair in his fingers. Marveled at how soft her bare breasts felt against his skin.

For a fleeting moment he wondered if in the real world would an upstanding, law-abiding Latina like herself ever go for a country hick like him, and a criminal to boot. But this wasn't the real world. Anything could happen on this crazy island. And at that moment as he plunged deep inside Ana Lucia, the island was paradise.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted his gun tucked in between blades of grass. He would get it. Later.

--end--