i could have it all whenever you are near

title: somewhere a clock is ticking
fandom: lost
pairing: boone/locke, (implied) boone/shannon
disclaimer: dude, if they were mine, you think i'd let boone fucking die?
author's notes: another wacky paste(!) fic.

It’s like a high, Boone says, like one minute you’re floating on the moon, gravity at your beck and call because you’re just that goddamn good, and the next you’re in this rave, all these lights flickering on and off at the same time, this bass pounding against your skull. It’s like, it’s like heroin and coke and ecstasy all rolled in one, he says, licks his lips, your eyes following the movement, it’s like the quintessential high and he’s the only one who’s discovered it. Boone isn’t one for eloquence, not around you, not like this, half-naked and begging – begging – for the paste on your slim fingers, his tongue trying to catch every last drop as you raise your hand high above his head.

Boone isn’t one for shame or arrogance, not like Sawyer, not like Jack, as he smiles and strips, dancing to the music in his head. He knows what you do, really, what you always do when he’s like this, unable to say no because you’re the only one with the recipe to his most favorite thing. He’s not afraid to whore himself out for what he wants, really, Boone says, it’s not like it’s never happened before. He dances and runs his hands over his body, humming, and, really, it’s not like you’re the bad guy here.

Boone’s a crazy drunk, even crazier when he’s high, wacky paste, he calls it, licks and licks and licks your fingers until there’s no more, until he can’t even hear himself think, just that music – that fucking bass, yeah – and his babbles, his constant chattering, nothing substantial. His eyes are like fire, and they dance with the movements of his body, up and down, and oh yeah.

You watch his naked hips, his thighs and his feet, his arms flailing from side to side, and you wonder how long it’ll be like this, you and Boone and the drugs. You’re second best, yeah, but you’ll take that over anything, especially when it’s like this, Boone running his hands through his hair, down his sides, over his thighs, all naked flesh and electricity. Boone laughs and it’s like vibrations, like waves crashing against each other, and he says, Shannon, Shannon would never get this. He laughs and laughs and says, you’re the only one who really knows me. It’s a whisper, really, caught in his throat as the sweat pours down his forehead in columns, his fiery eyes and silky skin, and he’s so beautiful, so fucking beautiful you want to claw out your eyes because as long as you see him, as long as you can see his skin and mouth and eyes, you’ll promise him anything he wants.

He laughs, thrumming from inside out, and says, You’re the only one who ever really loved me. And you smile and say, I know.