set me on a mouse and i'd rather chase a rat (Ilana/Samuel, PG-13)
Title: set me on a mouse and i'd rather chase a rat
Fandom: LOST
Characters: Ilana/Samuel, Jacob
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 632
Summary: She's tired of being the prey in their games. (for cloudytea , requested here at the Lady Fest ficathon)
One day Ilana makes the crucial mistake of giving in to his insatiable curiosity.
It starts innocent (as innocent as either of them can manage to be), Samuel mocking her for her inexperience as a huntress. "I grew up in the city," she defends herself, and his eyes gleam.
"Tell me."
It escalates too quickly, Samuel groaning into her neck as she whispers secrets of her home, of Paris and Egypt and everywhere else Jacob has sent her.
"Next time," he insists, his hands and mouth traveling her skin with a desperate force. "Next time I'm coming with you."
Later, Ilana stumbles onto the beach with hot cheeks and muddy hair. Jacob is furious.
"You were with him."
Ilana lifts her chin, a feline grin spreading across her face. Samuel has that accursed effect on her, robbing her of common sense, the desire to deny any wrong-doing. "What business is it of yours?"
"Your well-being is my business," Jacob barks out, pulling her close. He scrutinizes the tiny bruises on her hand, traces of Samuel's fingers folding hers over a knife to show her how to properly skin a rabbit. He drags her to the edge of the ocean and drops her arm. "Get undressed."
"Excuse me?"
Jacob's face burns bright red. "I need you to bathe. Get his... get his handprints off of your body." He sounds like he might choke on the very idea.
"Jacob-"
"Or I will."
She strips in front of him, eyes never leaving his. Jacob takes her clothes as she gets into the water, tossing them in the fire nearby. As the waves grab at her she can hear him grumbling, "You were supposed to stay pure."
"I've never been pure," Ilana hisses to herself. She remains in the ocean long after Samuel has been washed away, her skin pale and wrinkled.
Jacob waits brooding on the beach, averting his eyes when she slips into the scratchy white garments set out for her. "Well?"
"Sit down, please," Jacob sighs. Ilana complies, too tired to argue. Jacob heals her scrapes, then disappears into the jungle, leaving her alone in the sand.
Somehow, his soft hands feel more abrasive than Samuel's ever did.
When her hair has finally dried, the back of her shirt wet and uncomfortable, a lanky shadow falls over her. "White doesn't suit you," Samuel says.
Ilana blinks back tears. She feels like a jigsaw puzzle, the pieces jammed into places where they don't belong. "Neither does black."
He kneels in front of her, brushing her face with a rough palm. "I didn't mean for him to find out."
It almost sounds like an apology, and Ilana laughs harshly. "Well, he did."
Samuel wraps his fingers around the back of her head, looking her meaningfully in the eye. His attempt at tenderness is awkward, but Ilana appreciates the effort. She meets him halfway, his mouth warm and dry against hers. He lowers her to the sand, trailing his fingers slowly, reverent, along her ribs. Ilana lets out a sigh, a different kind of breathless settling in her chest.
When the sun begins to set, Ilana groans, unwilling to push away the arm draped over her. "Jacob will be back soon."
"I'll protect you," Samuel grumbles, tightening his grip on her.
Ilana snickers. "I can take care of myself, you know."
"Of course," he purrs into her hair, "I forget what a fierce little lioness you are." It's odd, unnatural almost, the gentle pressure of his elbow on her stomach, his beard lightly scratching her shoulder, but to say it felt wrong would be a lie.
"A lion tamer, perhaps," she teases, stopping herself before making a joke about starting a circus act, traveling the world together.
(after all, you know what they say about curiosity)
Fandom: LOST
Characters: Ilana/Samuel, Jacob
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 632
Summary: She's tired of being the prey in their games. (for cloudytea , requested here at the Lady Fest ficathon)
One day Ilana makes the crucial mistake of giving in to his insatiable curiosity.
It starts innocent (as innocent as either of them can manage to be), Samuel mocking her for her inexperience as a huntress. "I grew up in the city," she defends herself, and his eyes gleam.
"Tell me."
It escalates too quickly, Samuel groaning into her neck as she whispers secrets of her home, of Paris and Egypt and everywhere else Jacob has sent her.
"Next time," he insists, his hands and mouth traveling her skin with a desperate force. "Next time I'm coming with you."
Later, Ilana stumbles onto the beach with hot cheeks and muddy hair. Jacob is furious.
"You were with him."
Ilana lifts her chin, a feline grin spreading across her face. Samuel has that accursed effect on her, robbing her of common sense, the desire to deny any wrong-doing. "What business is it of yours?"
"Your well-being is my business," Jacob barks out, pulling her close. He scrutinizes the tiny bruises on her hand, traces of Samuel's fingers folding hers over a knife to show her how to properly skin a rabbit. He drags her to the edge of the ocean and drops her arm. "Get undressed."
"Excuse me?"
Jacob's face burns bright red. "I need you to bathe. Get his... get his handprints off of your body." He sounds like he might choke on the very idea.
"Jacob-"
"Or I will."
She strips in front of him, eyes never leaving his. Jacob takes her clothes as she gets into the water, tossing them in the fire nearby. As the waves grab at her she can hear him grumbling, "You were supposed to stay pure."
"I've never been pure," Ilana hisses to herself. She remains in the ocean long after Samuel has been washed away, her skin pale and wrinkled.
Jacob waits brooding on the beach, averting his eyes when she slips into the scratchy white garments set out for her. "Well?"
"Sit down, please," Jacob sighs. Ilana complies, too tired to argue. Jacob heals her scrapes, then disappears into the jungle, leaving her alone in the sand.
Somehow, his soft hands feel more abrasive than Samuel's ever did.
When her hair has finally dried, the back of her shirt wet and uncomfortable, a lanky shadow falls over her. "White doesn't suit you," Samuel says.
Ilana blinks back tears. She feels like a jigsaw puzzle, the pieces jammed into places where they don't belong. "Neither does black."
He kneels in front of her, brushing her face with a rough palm. "I didn't mean for him to find out."
It almost sounds like an apology, and Ilana laughs harshly. "Well, he did."
Samuel wraps his fingers around the back of her head, looking her meaningfully in the eye. His attempt at tenderness is awkward, but Ilana appreciates the effort. She meets him halfway, his mouth warm and dry against hers. He lowers her to the sand, trailing his fingers slowly, reverent, along her ribs. Ilana lets out a sigh, a different kind of breathless settling in her chest.
When the sun begins to set, Ilana groans, unwilling to push away the arm draped over her. "Jacob will be back soon."
"I'll protect you," Samuel grumbles, tightening his grip on her.
Ilana snickers. "I can take care of myself, you know."
"Of course," he purrs into her hair, "I forget what a fierce little lioness you are." It's odd, unnatural almost, the gentle pressure of his elbow on her stomach, his beard lightly scratching her shoulder, but to say it felt wrong would be a lie.
"A lion tamer, perhaps," she teases, stopping herself before making a joke about starting a circus act, traveling the world together.
(after all, you know what they say about curiosity)