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02 February 2009 @ 12:43 am
three ficlets for the lostsquee fic battle, all Des/Sayid, for lostpicksix  
Title: Nothing Left To Lose
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Desmond/Sayid
Word counting: 515
Disclaimer: not mine, it'd happen.
Summary: He lets Sayid do anything he wants because it's not like it even matters anymore.
A/N: written for the prompt up against the wall; using for lostpicksix #20, noncon even if this is actually more do-whatever-you-want-with-me-con. But it's as close as I'll come to it so I might use it as well. Warning: it's angsty and also kind of not exactly nice.

He lets Sayid do anything he wants because it's not like it even matters anymore.

Desmond doesn't want to trick himself into thinking he will ever see her again. He agreed on going back in exchange for her safety, but if he goes back there, he doubts he will ever leave again. Once was enough. And still, that was alright. If it meant that she was safe, he could endure it.

Sayid has changed since the last time they saw each other. A lot. So much that Desmond sometimes thought he had the eyes of a dead man, and it wasn't quite the compliment of the year. Not really.

It's night. They're on deck. No one is around, but it might be because it's so dark that he can't distinguish anyone. Doesn't matter, after all; in a little while, he's sure he won't care.

He doesn't know when Sayid's eyes stopped being a dead man's eyes and became something else as they stood there. They had met by chance; Desmond had wanted to take a walk on deck, Sayid probably had wanted the same.

He knows that just after Sayid took his wrist and dragged him below deck, where the kitchen is; now he's slammed up against the door, Sayid's lips insistent on his, and he doesn't put any resistance. It doesn't matter. If this makes Sayid feel something, why not. When you already lost what matters, it really doesn't matter and he figures Sayid knows it on his own.

There's no finesse or words or anything that could bring this a level above mere fucking. There isn't. Indeed.

His jeans lie on the ground while Sayid's satin trousers are down to his knees, his legs hooked around Sayid's waist, two fingers covered in some cheap peanut oil that was on the counter are stretching him open and it's the closest to gentle this has been until now.

Desmond bites his tongue when the fingers leave and Sayid is suddenly inside him with one push, without warning, without really anything; Desmond meets it and just pushes his hips forward, even if soon Sayid is going so fast that he can't really keep up with his pace. Sayid just fucks him hard and fast, his lips biting on Desmond's neck, Desmond's hand gripping his hair and probably hurting, until they both come more or less at the same time, Sayid inside him barely making a sound and Desmond with a loud, not necessarily satisfied moan just soon after.

They clean up with some paper tissues that were around since a dinner during which no one ate much really. They don't say anything. Sayid leaves before Desmond manages to dress up again. He wonders if he should follow him, say something, knock on his cabin or if he just should leave him alone.

Well, as we said, nothing to lose, right? He drinks a glass of water, takes a breath, mouths forgive me, Penny to the empty room and then heads straight for Sayid's cabin. Most likely he won't get an answer, but still, trying won't hurt.

End.


Title: It's Regret For The Things We Didn't Do That's Inconsolable
Rating: Pg13
Pairing: Desmond/Sayid
Word counting: 470
Disclaimer: not mine, it'd happen.
Summary: Regrets eat you alive.
A/N: written for the prompt regret; using for lostpicksix #29, lies.

Desmond regrets a lot of things.

He regrets trying to prove himself to Penny when there wasn’t the need, he regrets leaving her for eight years, he regrets ruining his life then, he regrets the second he started thinking for himself after Charlie died (didn’t look like there was much purpose not doing things for yourself, right?), he regrets not questioning why his vision never came true. Also because his regrets are the reason for which he still doesn’t feel worthy of her even after they’re finally married.

When he accepts to leave her behind and go back again, he realizes he’s doing it because he needs to prove himself always the same thing. It doesn’t matter and he's sick of lying to himself anyway. He wants to be able to look her in the eye. Regrets eat you alive.

--

Sayid regrets a lot of things.

He regrets all his time in the army, but no point in regretting that. One could just try to move on. Not that he managed much. He regrets Essam’s death, he regrets torturing Sawyer on the island, he regrets the second in which he tried to start anew, trying not to think about Nadia, and then couldn’t even manage to save Shannon’s life when he had been there. He regrets trying to forget her completely to ease his suffering (didn’t work, right?), he regrets the second in which he dared to believe he could leave everything behind and be happy with Nadia. It wasn’t meant to be. He regrets the second in which he asked Ben who was the next. He regrets pretty much every other thing that has happened since then. It’s not nice, when your list of regrets is so long you can’t even count them. When he goes back, he does it because he has to and there’s really no better option. It doesn’t matter anymore and he's sick of lying to himself anyway. He doesn't really have a better choice. Regrets eat you alive.

--

Sayid doesn’t know why he tells Desmond that maybe it’d be nice to have a talk in his cabin. Just because. (He can’t really talk with Jack or Kate or Hurley or Ben; Sun won’t say anything to him anyway).

Desmond doesn’t know why he answers yes even if it wasn’t a question he expected. (Sayid was never one to talk just because, but well, they all changed. And Sayid is the one person Desmond would feel half comfortable talking to anyway).

They both don’t know why they don’t really talk but at some point they’re just holding each other while sitting on Sayid’s bed or why at one point Desmond’s lips meet Sayid's or why Sayid just kisses him like it’s the last time he can do such a thing. Desmond isn’t surprised to taste salt and Sayid isn’t surprised to taste something good, even if he can’t say what it is exactly.

They both won’t regret it for a second.

End.


Title: What Is and What Shouldn't Be
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Desmond/Sayid
Word counting: 1087
Disclaimer: not mine, it'd happen.
Summary: Sayid is aware of Desmond slowly undressing him, taking off every item slowly and carefully; he’s aware of cold fingers trailing across his chest, over his hips, across his legs, feathery touches that are amplified by his lack of vision and which are making him tremble and shiver all over, unable to help it.
A/N: written for the prompt blindfold; using for lostpicksix #35, fetish.

If Sayid opens his eyes, the world is made of soft, luxurious dark violet satin. If he closes them, it’s just dark.

It’s his own scarf, tied firmly behind his head; he doesn’t think he could get free of it, if he tried. Desmond does know how to make a knot, he will have to give it to him.

Fine, he never imagined that things would end up this way once they were back together on a boat; he doesn’t remember who started it (maybe it was him, he doubts Desmond would have), but it did and it’s been going on since four days and they still don’t know how much time they have until they... until they arrive. Or until they’re back.

It wasn’t his idea; nothing, in this particular arrangement, is his idea. He lies on the bed of their cabin, Desmond’s bed actually; not for any particular reasons, but Sayid had insisted. He doesn’t want anyone in his bed, even if the bed is his just for the time being and it’s not likely that he will ever lie in there again when the time being is over.

He can’t see anything if not violet; but he can feel and he can hear and he feels guilty. Guilty feels good, though; guilt wasn’t something he has felt much lately and he knows from experience that in the moment you don’t feel guilty anymore, then any hope of making up for your mistakes is gone. He didn’t know he still had it in him to feel guilty. He doesn’t know if it’s good or not.

He feels guilty because Desmond shouldn’t be doing this, not with him, not when he had to leave his Penny behind again because Sayid had been the one making things clear (either you come or she will be in danger, he had said, and it was true; at least he had managed to spare her life someway), not when he knew everything he had been up to in the latest three years, he just shouldn’t have, but he’s doing it nonetheless.

Sayid is aware of Desmond slowly undressing him, taking off every item slowly and carefully; he’s aware of cold fingers trailing across his chest, over his hips, across his legs, feathery touches that are amplified by his lack of vision and which are making him tremble and shiver all over, unable to help it.

Lips join hands and Desmond is excruciatingly taking his time; his mouth trails over Sayid’s neck, his shoulders, his teeth barely grasping some skin here and there, his tongue flicking from time to time. It’s teasing of the worst kind and Sayid’s breathing becomes shallow and labored. He wishes he could gain some control over himself, after all controlling himself is pretty much what his life has been about since Nadia died, but it looks like from the second when Desmond tied that knot all of his control has gone. Where, he doesn’t know.

“Just stop thinkin’, won’t you?”

Desmond’s voice is low and vibrates in his ear; it’s a sentence that whose sound brings him sensation resembling the ones brought by the soft, silk satin enveloping Sayid’s eyes. Sayid doesn’t answer, as just after Desmond’s hand closed around his cock, stroking just a bit. He can’t help the groan coming out of his mouth and he can feel just how smug Desmond’s face has to look.

Not that he minds.

Desmond’s hand moves slowly, a steady rhythm that soon is driving him crazy; he’s vaguely aware that his fingers feel strangely slick but he really can’t place it, not when he’s sure he will cry in a short while if Desmond doesn’t do something. Not that Desmond would see it though; not when there’s the scarf covering his eyes still.

His hands search for Desmond’s shoulders, desperate to grab into something, anything; he finds them without too much effort thankfully and suddenly Desmond is closer, he can just feel him closer. And then there’s his voice, always smooth and soft, whispering right there in his ear, so maybe you’d want more, aye? and Sayid can’t help noticing that it shakes, too. He wishes he could see his face.

He mouths yes, realizing that it sounds like begging and he hasn’t sounded like that in a long time; but Desmond doesn’t say anything, not really. His presence is gone a second after, though, and Sayid bites back a moan and spreads his legs when a slicked finger (what did he use?, he wonders for a second) slowly pushes his way in, stretching him open, Sayid welcomes it; it’s painful at the beginning and realizes he was longing to feel pain, when suddenly Desmond’s right hand closes around his cock again and a of his left one joins the first, pushing him deeper, making Sayid moan helplessly, every movement of Desmond’s fingers fire along his flesh as they bend slightly and scissor. He shiver, growing even harder against Desmond’s other hand.

He expects Desmond to pull the fingers out but it doesn’t happen and he adds a third one. He slowly, oh-so-slowly pushes forward and oh, he curses when they hit the right spot and he realizes Desmond couldn’t ever understand it because he was speaking in Arabic. It doesn’t matter as those fingers bend again and push, faster now, so fast that he can just feel the spasm shaking him before he comes against Desmond’s hand, hard, like he can’t remember coming in years, a sob escaping his lips along with Desmond’s name.

He still hasn’t recovered and Desmond’s hand is still stroking him, he seems to be determined to go on until Sayid can’t give him anything anymore; but then the other hand is behind is neck and unties the knot gently. He pulls the scarf away and Sayid, his eyes still closed, can hear the low sound it produces as it falls over the floor. He blinks and meets Desmond’s eyes, brown and shining in the moonlight coming from the window of the cabin, before a pair of lips captures his own and Desmond kisses him gently, almost gingerly even. An hour ago he’d have objected, he’d have said it was wrong, he’d have said that he was better left alone, but right now he just can’t and his hand tentatively reaches Desmond’s shoulder as he pulls up a bit in a sitting position. He doesn’t break the kiss. It feels too good, even if he might not deserve any of it.

End.
 
 
feeling: crankycranky
 
 
 
waine on February 2nd, 2009 01:59 pm (UTC)
Oh Janie,
These fics were made of win. I just can't over how good they were, but no idea when Des?sayid will see each other again. I totally found my OTP this season, and its Charloday. I thiink I may love them more the Skate, and almost as much as Despenny. I just hope she does not die, it whould break Daniels heart and the fans whould revolt. I know shes there at least the next two eps, and lets hope more. Also as an American The Boss totally rocked our superbowl! He was amazing, and he did Born to run! He was also awesome with the crowd and even gave a shoutout to everyone at home to put down thier hotwings and get up and rock out with him. Bruce, you be the man! I bet you can find clips on youtube, and the game was really good too, if you like American Football.
Janice: des and sayidjaydblu on February 3rd, 2009 02:50 am (UTC)
I made it to another of yours today!
I like what you did with these prompts as well. They're all very good! Of the three, I think I like. What Is and What Shouldn't Be the most, probably because it's not as angsty and sad as the first two. I think I like the blindfold thing because it shows trust, which goes with sex quite nicely. I also really like the kissing aspect of it at the end.
Lo que el viento se llevó, el mismo viento lo trae: LOST » sayid ~ [WITHOUTME]waferkya on April 4th, 2010 09:59 pm (UTC)
Deeeeear Lord.
The one about regrets - It's Regret For The Things We Didn't Do That's Inconsolable, - it made me cry so hard that I don't even know what to say DDD:
I'll go grab some camomile, then when I'm breathing again I'll try to comment coherently ;^;
the female ghost of tom joad: lost des/sayid *g*janie_tangerine on April 9th, 2010 03:12 pm (UTC)
Aw, thank you so much! Even though er, yeah, sorry about the crying. And sorry for answering so late. D: