Jack hated space flight. Utterly. Completely despised it. But space ports. That was a different story. Completely corrupt. People coming in and out all the time. From the richest of the rich to the most destitute. A few dead bodies didn't matter. Not when billions of credits worth of goods (both legal and illegal) moved in and out of the port on a daily basis. Jack'd found a small warehouse, turned part of it into a residence, and used the rest for a little luxury trade business he had going. He was lonely though. Desperately so. He missed his mate. Every day on waking he reached for the bond, but always came up with nothing. So he went about his days as a ruthless businessman and brutal killer, but he felt Sawyer's absence always.
Sawyer had spent the first three years without Jack drunk. He's bitterly lonely without his childe, and the double severed bond of mate and childe hurts like a physical loss every day. These days he's a pilot. He loathes space travel, but he has a knack, and smuggling is something he definitelyhas a knack for. Plus, plenty of shady characters no one'll miss. He sets down early, stepping out into the dark streets. He has a few hours before he meets his contact, and he wants some dinner. He's got an itch between his shoulders, like something's coming. He'll have to be on alert, though he doesn't much care about anything these days.
Jack feels like ants are crawling all over his skin, so ill at ease that it manifesting physically. He's so itchy that he can't even concentrate on preparing his upcoming meeting. Finally he tosses his mug of blood across the room, standing with a growl. If he's got any hope of concentrating, he needs to get a real dinner. Preferably one that requires a little seduction to make the hunt that much sweeter.
Sawyer has been charming the pants (and cash) off women his whole life and unlife, multiple centuries, even the fact that he feels like he's about to crawl out of his own body, demon ready to run and fight and fuck and kill. Hasn't had so much trouble controlling himself in decades, but the girl, attendant on a space ship, giggling in minutes. She's playing coy, and he lets her, saying she's going to go into a cafe/bar, get them some treats, then come back. Sawyer waits, watching the night with predatory eyes. He knows she'll be back, could smell it on her. Fuck. What the hell's going on. Maybe it's the deal, but he needs to get the hell off this rock.
Jack's prowling the streets, trying to figure out where he wants to hunt, but his demon's so jumpy that he can't make up his mind. Finally with a growl, he picks a bar at random, and goes inside. A cute little flight attendant comes into the bar and Jack thinks she's just the sort that Sawyer would hit on. Jack feels an almost overwhelming surge of desolation. Whether it's loneliness or nostalgia, Jack gives her a shy smile when she enters, letting just a little bit of interest show.
Sawyer taps his thigh. He's already restless, demon wanting to howl, to run, to give chase, and the girl's taking too long. He's going to count to twenty and she'd best be out here again with... dinner.
Jack gets suspicious when she hones right in on him, making a beeline for him. What an amateur. Still, hunting the hunter has its appeal. Jack makes reluctant small talk, being all shy and coyly demure, finally letting her talk him outside. But as soon as he steps outside his demon's screaming. Shaking from the effort, Jack keeps his human face, but he does let a knife slip into his hand.
Sawyer startles. Girlie's back, with company. That little... and he doesn't hear a heartbeat. He springs forward, ready to drag them both off. He's a powerful vamp, old and desperate for a fight, and he's going to. Oh sweet hell. Sawyer's frozen, game face held back by a thread, hand on her wrist like a vise, and he doesn't even notice her. All he has eyes for is the guy on her arm. His Jack. Mate mate mate. His demon's screaming its recognition, begging to be let out, screaming for for his mate, and all Sawyer can do is stare, not making a sound.
Jack's ready to pounce, but when he sees who it is, he stops shocked into immobility. His demon roars, urging him to move, to reclaim his mate, but Jack can't move. But then the girl moves, and Jack panther screams, and shifts into game face, takes her into his arms, pulls her hair back and offers her throat to his sire, his mate, his Sawyer.
Sawyer doesn't hesitate, roaring his own claim as he tears into the girl's throat, arms going around both of them, the dinner and his mate, his Jack, his home, growling a plea for Jack to tear into her too.
Jack growls and rips into her throat, drinking fast, thrusting against her, so fucking hard. Before the first swallow even reaches his throat, Jack's demon's purring loudly - louder than its purr during the all the time he's been separated from his mate. Feeling the girl's heart slow then stop, Jack tosses her aside and wraps himself tightly around his mate, kissing him brutally hard, sharing the blood of their kill, then slicing his tongue with his fang, sharing his own blood, childe's blood, with his sire.
Sawyer almost sobs into the kiss, the girl forgotten at their feet. He would go to sleep in the engine room of his ship to hear anything close to that. Childe's blood, and he echoes the gesture, slicing his tongue, sire's blood. Reaffirming the ties between them. The shared blood is all it takes, and he feels something he hasn't since they were separated, that black magic bond, stronger than ever, winding as close as possible. With a roar, Sawyer slams them against the nearest wall, shredding clothing with unadultrated need for his mate. Oh god, Jack. If his senses weren't screaming, he'd think this was a dream. The kind he has almost every day.
3:28:33 PM snooksranting: Jack sobs as Sawyer's blood hits his tongue and their bond surges to full strength, wrapping around them. With unthinking need, Jack shreds their clothes with his talons, wrapping his fist around their cocks as soon as they're free. He's whimpering with need, thrusting desperately against his mate, breathing in his scent. Under his breath, he chants, "Mine. My mate. My sire. My Sawyer. Mine."
Sawyer's whimpering too, hand curling around Jack's. Fuck. How many times has he woken up to those words in a dream, and he sobs again, demon roars a claim. "Yours." A shuddering groan, hands stripping their cocks brutally. "My Jack. My mate. My childe. Mine..." Sawyer's still groaning out Jack's name as he comes screaming, with supernovas behind his eyes and the kind of knee buckling intensity he hasn't felt since they were separated.
Jack hears those words and comes so fucking hard as his demon roars its claim. Blacking out, Jack pulls Sawyer down as he collapses onto the ground. He returns to consciousness almost immediately, diesel loud purr rumbling to life as he tightens his arms past the point of pain around his mate.
Sawyer doesn't care about the pain, he relishes it, needs it. His own purr's blending with Jack's, silky and wondering, god, how has he survived without Jack. The hard stones of the street are digging into his back and he doesn't care it all, doesn't care about anything but holding onto Jack just as tight or tighter as he's being held. His mate's back in his arms where he belongs. And he is so damn scared he's going to wake up any minute, even as he knows that the reality of Jack is miles beyond even his best dreams.
"Sawyer....." Jack murmurs in wonderment, biting at his lover's jaw. "Thought I'd never see you again."
"I know..." Sawyer shakes his head, arms tightening around his mate. "Fuck Jack... never stopped hoping I'd find you." Half the reason he started his current career. Lots of travel, lots of opportunity to meet new people. And hopefully one old one.
Jack kitty licks Sawyer's cheek, stubble rasping against his tongue. He hums his agreement. "Yeah." He'd paid huge amounts of money to have people scan the news, police reports, and more sub rosa sources, looking for any evidence of Sawyer. But the 'verse was a big place. "Always looking." And seeing people that looked like him from a distance, but never, ever feeling the bond.
"Always. Fuck Jack..." Almost a whimper in his voice. "Was so scared that you..." No, that doesn't matter, not now. All that matters is that they're together again, and Sawyer is never ever letting go. "Can we... you got somewhere we can go?" If not, his ship's not far. But they need to get off the street, need to find a place where they can wind around each other and never let go.
Jack shivers, he'd thought that unthinkable thought too many times. "I've got a place not far from here." Standing up, he tries to straighten his clothes enough for decency. He looks down at the girl, and laughs, "you know I picked her up because she was your type." Tossing her into the nearest garbage shute, Jack grins at his mate. "Little did I know she really was your type." More serious, he adds, "my demon's been on edge all night."
Sawyer pulls Jack closer. "I know, mine too. Had to hunt, try and calm down. Only got worse when I got closer to that bar." He keeps one arm around his mate's waist, the other crossing to hook in Jack's somewhat shredded trousers. Unwilling to break the connection.
Jack has to keep touching Sawyer, has to rub his scent all over his mate, his purr's ridiculously loud, and he'd laugh at how ludicrous he must appear, but he's too fucking happy to have found his mate. "We're going this way." He leads Sawyer through the backstreets to the side entrance of his warehouse that leads straight into his personal residence. Once inside, he doesn't even wait, just slams the door shut and slams himself against Sawyer, kissing him ravenously.
Sawyer wriggles against Jack, scent-marking constantly, purring with his Jack. He doesn't give a damn how they look to passers by, so long as he can keep touching, keep reassuring himself that this is real, that Jack's really here in his arms. The minute they're inside, Sawyer's returning the kiss with brutal hunger, ruining their already shredded clothes in his haste to get them off and his hands on Jack's skin now. Sawyer moans in need and wonderment when he gets his hands all over Jack's chest and shoulders, arms, thighs, cock, purr rumbling almost Jack loud, kiss desperately hungry. Oh fuck how he's missed his mate.
Jack can't stop his hands from moving, seeking to reassure himself with every touch that this is his mate. Here. With him. In his arms. Jack pulls Sawyer to the floor and parts his legs. He whimpers, then husks out, "no, lube, but need you to fuck me now."
Sawyer groans, even if there was lube, not sure he could wait for it. So scared he's going to wake up any minute, that this'll be like that really bad trip when he tried some of his cargo, wound up hallucinating his mate, wild and beautiful, and then it'd worn off the minute he touched the vision. He'd screamed until his throat bled, but Jack's real, and here. Sawyer slicks his cock with spit and nothing else, looming over his mate, eyes burning into Jack's. He curls his hand around Jack's cock and twists brutally as he slams in, roaring out a wordless claim. "My. Jack. My. Mate. My. Childe. Mine. Mine. Mine." He punctuates every word with a brutal slam in, bending Jack almost double so that he can keep his face inches away from Jack the whole time.
Jack screams the pain and pleasure perfect. Perfect as its only ever been with his mate. Jack rakes his talons across Sawyer's back. The smell of sire's blood filling his senses. This is real. His sire is real. His mate. At last. At last. "At last! Yours. Yours. Sawyer. Sire. Mate. Mine," Jack sobs. He leans up and bites Sawyer's throat, blood an orgasmic ambrosia. Demon roaring in triumph, Jack comes, his whole body shattering as pleasure sunrise fierce explodes within him.
Nothing could match this, nothing at all, touching sunlight couldn't feel as perfect and right as his mate. When Jack shatters under him, Sawyer sinks fang with a sob, screaming at the flood of his mate's blood over his tongue. He shatters with pleasure, orgasm hitting him like hard enough he would have blacked out if he weren't so scared that in doing so, he'd wake up with empty arms, in his own ship in his own bed. The black magic bond drowns around them and he whimpers, overloaded, clinging to his mate. Oh fuck, Jack's real, Jack's really here. "Home," he whispers, kissing Jack softly, purring with happiness and disbelief.
"Yes," Jack affirms, holding Sawyer to him tightly with arms and legs wrapped around his mate. He feels safe for the first time in fifteen years, covered by his mates body, cradled by the velvet comfort of their bond. "Home."
Sawyer shivers, still buried in his lover, still holding on so tight air can't pass between them. "Jack..." So wondering. He hasn't felt so right in fifteen years. He feels whole. He can't stop staring, can't stop touching, just can't stop.
Jack runs his fingers over Sawyer's face, staring into the golden eyes of his beloved. "You're really here." He laughs softly, purr almost drowning out the quiet huff. "It'll be at least fifteen years before I even think about letting you out of my sight."
Sawyer's laugh hitches, and he echoes the gesture, hand cupping Jack's cheek, looking at Jack like he's drowning and Jack's his only lifeline. "Thirty. And it'll take me another thirty to work up to actually doing it, and that's only if it's for less than a minute at a time." Which is going to present problems in a few hours, the shipment. Fuck. Sawyer grumps a bit. "Speaking of, want to come to a meeting with me?" The flash memory back, way too far, to his human life, a broken briefcase and a 'baby, I gotta go'. "Spice shipment to get off my hands." Even as he says it, though, he tightens his arms around Jack, a growly little note to his purr. He is not moving, thank you very much. Not until he convinces himself that this is real. And that's going to take a lot of time and... convincing.
Jack laughs, a joyful peal of disbelief. "A diron bark shipment by any chance?" It couldn't be. The coincidence was too perfect. But Jack also had a meeting in a few hours - a meeting to buy a rare spice from a rather shady, but exceedingly successful smuggler. Bit of a grumpy bastard by all accounts, but brilliant at what he did.
Sawyer raises his head, eyes narrowed suspiciously, and then bursts out laughing. "Brilliant, bitter, mysterious, ruthless businessman, people who piss him off tend to dissappear, has a taste for the finer things?" Feels unaccountably... relieved that even if he hadn't chosen that cafe, that girl, that moment, he still wouldn't have missed this chance.
Jack grins, "not so bitter anymore." He tickles Sawyer briefly, eyes dancing with happiness. "Holy hell. At last, Sawyer. I've looked for you, combing the news feeds. And you show up at more door." Jack laughs again, "to think I got into this business just to afford the search."
Sawyer laughs with pure joy, and happiness he hasn't felt in fifteen years. "And I was smuggling just to see the verse, hit as many different places as I could tryin' to find you." Not to mention the room in his ship strictly devoted to searching news feeds, various contacts who, supposedly, could find anyone or anything, and had been failing him miserably. "Lorne always said no matter what we'd find our way back to each other," a so-soft smile, running his fingertips over Jack's face. And when Dru had found him, drunk off his ass, ten years ago, she'd petted his hair and said the same thing. Well, Miss Edith had said so. Dru refused to talk to him when he was drunk, the doll had to be an intermediary.
"Yeah, he did." Jack's grinning like a fool. "What'd you say to moving this reunion to the bedroom - or the bath." Bath's were wasteful as hell on planets like this, but Jack almost made sure that every residence he ever owned had a bath large enough for two full-grown vampires to play in. Same with his bed. Jack rarely brought anyone to his bed (except for that idiot Harmony with whom he'd had a two year affair before he finally staked her out of sheer annoyance, but that's another story entirely), but he always made sure that it was big enough for Sawyer's return, complete with the best bed linens available.
Sawyer smiles at Jack softly, still so amazed that after all these years, so close to giving up and watching the sunrise, Jack's in his arms, they're together, he's home. Sawyer can't stop grinning like an idiot, and he stops trying. "Bath, then bed." Both hands cupping Jack's face. "Want to soak with you, hot water and you, never stop touching, then dry off, and fall asleep with you, and wake up with you in my arms." His voice is a husky golden murmur, and he closes the short distance between their mouths, kissing his mate soft and lingering. Home. Home. Home.
Jack melts into the kiss, not stopping until he's rolled them, and he's on top. Standing, he pulls Sawyer with him. Then wraps his arms around his mate again, kissing him deeply and ever so slowly. When he's reassured himself again that its true that this is Sawyer and he's in his arms - Jack knows he's going to be a doing that a lot over the next decade or so - he leads them through his bedroom, a decadent creation catering to the most tactive indulgences, to the luxurious bathroom he commissioned before he moved in. Jack's earned his reputation as one who enjoys the finer things. What people don't know is that sometimes the lushness of his surroundings is the only thing that's kept him from stepping into the sunrise. Now that Sawyer's back, Jack could leave it all and live in the grimmest surroundings. On the other hand, he is a hedonistic vampire, and he sees no reason not enjoy the finest things with his mate. After turning the tap on, Jack looks up through his lashes, smiling wickedly Sawyer. "Do you have any problems with the underlings taking care of the shipment? I promise you, I'm good....for the money."
Sawyer smiles at the bathroom. Just so Jack, plushest decadence and only the best for his mate. Even though Sawyer has always been a hedonist, the extent of the decadence of his ship is all for Jack. He has to laugh when he sees they've picked out a few of the same furnishings, and he pulls Jack in for a lingering joke. "Mmhmm. I know you're good for it." His eyes are laughing, but there's still desperation there. Desperate need to know that Jack's real, that they're really together, and he just stares at his mate for a long, long time, drowning in him.
Jack sees the desperation, and slowly leans in for another long slow kiss. He takes his time, his very leisureliness an affirmation that they have time, that he's not going anywhere, that they don't have to rush, because this is not a dream, that they are not going to disappear upon waking. When he finally eases the kiss back to a gentle press of lips, he murmurs, "I may be good, but I'm always better with you." With a loving smile, he tugs Sawyer to the bath, urging his mate into the steamy water.
Sawyer sighs into the kiss, arms going around his Jack. Fuck. He's missed Jack so, so much, but the kiss eases some of the tension that's been a constant for fifteen years. "Me too, Jackass." Such a soft murmur, he slides into the bath, pulling Jack with him.
Jack slides into his accustomed place, resting against his sire's chest. He sighs at the rightness of it. He has to twist though, turning just enough so that he can see Sawyer's face. He knows the body could be no one but his mate, but he desperately needs the visual confirmation. Tactile confirmation is pretty damn nice too. So Jack lifts his hand to trace the features of Sawyer's face.
Sawyer echoes the sigh, fuck how he's missed Jack cradled against his chest, hot water and his beautiful mate. And he helps Jack stay twisted close, licking and nibbling the line of his childe's jaw, drawing in deep, deep breaths, scenting Jack, constantly reaffirming that it's really Jack in his arms after so long.
For long moments, Jack's more than content to touch, taste, and scent Sawyer, their mingled purrs an auditory backdrop to their sensual reassurances. But eventually, he needs to tell Sawyer the reason for their excrutiating separation. "I was returning home," he whispers. "The streets were so crowded. Everyone in a panic. I was about a block away when the Centrists literally swept us up and into the hold of a military cargo ship." Jack anxiously pets Sawyer's chest, reliving the horror of the moment he realized he was not going to make it back to his mate. "I fought, but I couldn't escape. I threw such a temper tantrum, demanding to see the Commandant. The guards laughed at me, until I slaughtered everyone in my cell. Then they took me to see the Commandant, but it was too late."
Sawyer turns Jack a little, tucking him tight against his chest, holding so close. He's trying to soothe Jack, running his hands over his childe's back, trying to soothe himself. He can remember it vividly, getting more and more frantic as the hours passed, wanting to go out searching, terrified that if he did, he'd miss Jack. Finally he'd found someone outside the door at random, gave them all the cash he had on hand and a gun, begged them to wait there for Jack. He smiles a little when Jack says he threw a tantrum, but it's shaky. "Was out lookin' for you. The streets were burning, almost sunup. Finally went to ground." So scared, the whole time thinking that Jack was a pile of ash somewhere, unable to search. "Burned the skin off my hands getting out of my hole just as the sun was setting, and walked straight into one of the refugee rescue parties." He tries another smile, no less shaky than the other. "I was forcibly 'rescued', put on one of their ships, whole damn time I was tellin' em to put me back." His arms tighten around Jack. It had been hell, and then it had been worse. "S'when they told me the Centrists had been bombing all day. Everyone either captured or killed." He's shaking, holding onto Jack tightly enough to hurt. "Jack I am so fuckin' sorry." Whispered out, pressing his face to Jack's hair. "Never should've let you go out alone." Never should have let them separate even for that short time, when the streets were already havok. Not because Jack couldn't take care of himself, but because... look what had happened. And he is never ever letting Jack go again. Ever.
Jack's holding on just as tightly, shaking from the remembered horrors of that early separation. So fucking helpless. He'd begged borrowed and bribed his way back to the Nicon, but it was a year later, and the whole damn place was deserted except for a few military outposts. "You needed blood." Jack whispers as he searches Sawyer's eyes and fines a matching pain. Sawyer'd gotten hurt in one of the riots, and even with vampire healing, he'd needed time to recupperate. Jack wasn't willing to risk Sawyer's reinjury. But look what happened instead. Jack shudder and tangled himself up with his mate even more tightly.
Sawyer's heart breaks a little more, and he all but clings to his mate. "Didn't need blood as bad as I needed you." No accusation in his words, except for himself. He was Jack's sire, supposed to protect him. And all those years thinking that Jack was... that unthinkable thought, never knowing for sure. Because he'd gotten himself hurt. And hadn't that just made it worse, already weakened, with the tearing pain of the bond being stretched, terrified that Jack was -- even now, with his mate safe in his arms, he had trouble thinking it. The refugee camps were little better than prisons, and they weren't letting him out, not weakened and half-crazed as he was, until he started killing the other refugees, messily, brutally, and entirely too many of them. It'd made him stronger, but got him thrown in an actual prison, ironically, much easier to get out of. Stolen a ship, and learned to blockade run getting back to the Nicon, but it was long past too late, even the military outposts abandoned by that point.
Jack stays silent for a long time, just resting his head in the crook of Sawyer's neck. Finally, he whispers, "I'd gotten us passage out. Had to pay cash, which was why I was crosstown." Some many times Jack'd wished he'd taken Sawyer with him that last trip. Even if everything wasn't set, he still should have taken Sawyer with him as he made the final negotiations. But everything went to hell so fast. No one had anticipated just how fast the final explosion came. No one.
Fuck. Fuck. He should have insisted. He'd pressed, but Jack had seemed so certain, and things hadn't been as dire the day before. Should have insisted, should have gone with, should have followed. Anything at all so that they would have stayed together. He'd failed his childe, broken promises he'd made before Jack was even turned, that he'd never leave him, they'd never be separated. "I'm so, so sorry sweetheart," whispered, laying back further in the tub, pulling Jack over him, arms tightening just that little bit more.
Jack stretched out over Sawyer, wriggling in an attempt to touch as much skin against skin. "Not your fault, love. Not your fault." He kissed Sawyer's temple, cheek, then corner of his mouth, until at last he gave his mate a tender, melting skin.