entangled and torn from the hour [lost]
Title: entangled and torn from the hour
Fandom: LOST
Summary: They wait, just like her.
Pairing: Ben/Ilana
Rating: Light R
Notes: I needed more sad!Benana in my life.
Ben sits cross-legged on the bed, watching Ilana dress. It's your flight, she says quietly. Do you want to miss it? She smiles (but not really), sitting across from him. He's slightly hunched, half-dressed and tired looking.
Yes. They both fidget quietly in their places, Ben's fingers finding hers and holding them gently.
Ben. You need to go. Ben nods and looks her in the eyes for the first time in the morning, tracing the curve of her jaw with his thumb, bringing her face close to his. She kisses him quickly, then more slowly, drawing out each second, hooking her fingers over the back of his neck.
He rolls her over and is inside of her before she can react, before she can say no, you need to leave. Because, really, she doesn't want him to leave. He pants into her neck, teeth grazing her shoulder, hands in her hair and he comes quickly, still buried inside of her. Ilana gives a silent whine as he pulls out. Always, he is slow to look right at her.
It's time to go, she says, smoothing sweaty hair from his forehead. He nods grimly and pulls himself off the bed, righting his clothes and finally buttoning his blue collared shirt. Slipping the black jacket over it. Ilana comes out of the bathroom combing her hair. Ready?
Yes. (No.)
He could easily get a cab. He's told her this a thousand times, but she doesn't mind. The car, small and cold, is her favorite place to be with him. She can catch glimpses of his profile, he closed eyes and empty mind. She can't drive as slow as she'd like, and there are moments, when his gaze is level with hers, that she'd like to pull out and make last forever.
But she can't.
And all too soon he's checking in and tying those absurd little address tags to his bag, marking her flat down with swift penstrokes.
When you come back -
I know.
I'll be there, I promise. I won't -
I know.
And - He silences her with a kiss. Ilana pulls back, shaking her head and gripping his collar. Just come back safe. And Ben nods and gives her a little smirk, like it's all too easy for him.
When he's gone, like always, she doesn't watch his retreating back. It makes it easier to imagine him later, facing her, smile twitching at the edge of his lips. And when she goes home, he's always forgotten something. A blazer or a shirt. A belt or some coins from Dubai or Paris. They clink at the bottom of a mason jar in her closet. Waiting, just like her.
Fandom: LOST
Summary: They wait, just like her.
Pairing: Ben/Ilana
Rating: Light R
Notes: I needed more sad!Benana in my life.
Ben sits cross-legged on the bed, watching Ilana dress. It's your flight, she says quietly. Do you want to miss it? She smiles (but not really), sitting across from him. He's slightly hunched, half-dressed and tired looking.
Yes. They both fidget quietly in their places, Ben's fingers finding hers and holding them gently.
Ben. You need to go. Ben nods and looks her in the eyes for the first time in the morning, tracing the curve of her jaw with his thumb, bringing her face close to his. She kisses him quickly, then more slowly, drawing out each second, hooking her fingers over the back of his neck.
He rolls her over and is inside of her before she can react, before she can say no, you need to leave. Because, really, she doesn't want him to leave. He pants into her neck, teeth grazing her shoulder, hands in her hair and he comes quickly, still buried inside of her. Ilana gives a silent whine as he pulls out. Always, he is slow to look right at her.
It's time to go, she says, smoothing sweaty hair from his forehead. He nods grimly and pulls himself off the bed, righting his clothes and finally buttoning his blue collared shirt. Slipping the black jacket over it. Ilana comes out of the bathroom combing her hair. Ready?
Yes. (No.)
He could easily get a cab. He's told her this a thousand times, but she doesn't mind. The car, small and cold, is her favorite place to be with him. She can catch glimpses of his profile, he closed eyes and empty mind. She can't drive as slow as she'd like, and there are moments, when his gaze is level with hers, that she'd like to pull out and make last forever.
But she can't.
And all too soon he's checking in and tying those absurd little address tags to his bag, marking her flat down with swift penstrokes.
When you come back -
I know.
I'll be there, I promise. I won't -
I know.
And - He silences her with a kiss. Ilana pulls back, shaking her head and gripping his collar. Just come back safe. And Ben nods and gives her a little smirk, like it's all too easy for him.
When he's gone, like always, she doesn't watch his retreating back. It makes it easier to imagine him later, facing her, smile twitching at the edge of his lips. And when she goes home, he's always forgotten something. A blazer or a shirt. A belt or some coins from Dubai or Paris. They clink at the bottom of a mason jar in her closet. Waiting, just like her.