Entry tags:
- ficlet,
- het,
- kate austen,
- kate/sawyer,
- lost,
- sawyer,
- ust
LOST, "Done This Before," sideways!Kate/sideways!Sawyer, R, comment ficlet
Title: "Done This Before"
Fandom: LOST (sixth season sideways universe)
Pairing: Kate/Sawyer
Rating: R, non-graphic sex and adult situations
Summary: James has never met the suspect before... she just has a familiar face.
AN: For![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aboutbunnies, for the Five Acts meme. The kink was "cops and/or fugitives; running from the law."
Miles is a couple of yards away, arguing with dispatch on his radio, so he doesn't hear when the suspect turns her face against James' ear and hisses "I've seen you somewhere."
"Maybe you have," he murmurs back, with a smirk that she can't see, as he clicks the cuffs into place behind her back. She's stopped thrashing between his body and the fence like a fish, so he backs off a little, gives her a few inches of personal space. He knows where she's seen him, but he's hoping she won't remember.
"At the airport," she says. She's still winded from running, sucking in deep, urgent breaths. "You saw me in the elevator, and you let me go. You make a habit of that?"
"Not hardly." He's walking her back to the car, hoping that Miles' backup will be here before too long. "Now, FloJo, you've got the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will..."
"I know my rights," she cuts him off, returning the smirk that she hadn't seen him give to her. "I've done this before." He opens the car door and guides her in.
***
Her name is Kate Austen, and it turns out she's charged with murder and several counts of resisting arrest, among other offenses. Bad girl. He looks at her mug shot on file and then shakes the hair off his face and tries to clear his head. Of course she looks familiar -- she's the pretty little thing with the handcuffs, from the airport elevator. He remembers her, because... because she looked familiar.
After stretching to clear his head, drinking a cup of black coffee to clear his head, and taking a walk around the station to clear his head, James gives up and goes down to see her in her holding cell. She's pacing, long legs still going even as her head sags with exhaustion, and her pale eyes widen when she sees him.
"Hey, FloJo. Ya think I know you from somewhere?"
"Yeah. The airport. You remember. Why ‘d you let me go, if you were just going to bring me in again? Is that what you do for fun around here?" She smiles, and leans slowly forward, taking the bars in her hands above her head and sloping into them inch by inch, until he can see the metal pressing little indents into her forearms --
her body presses back against the chain-link fence and their weight shifts into it, lanky arms tugging at their shirts and exposing skin freckled by sunlight. They're testing the fence, seeing how much weight it can take before they really give themselves up to this thing that's been building for so long, and they're out in the open, they know that they're being watched but they don't care, because her skin is hot like cotton sheets hung out under the sun, and they've both denied their natures for so long, when this -- her mouth tugging at the tendons of his neck, her breast arching up into his hand – this is who they are --
James blinks, hard, one, two, three times, but the image still hovers in his mind, superimposed over the windowless holding cells and the captured fugitive leaning toward him. James has an active imagination; he's had his share of daydreams and fantasies. This ain't no fantasy.
"What's wrong, detective?" Austen asks. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
He meets her eyes, looking for some recognition, some kind of a tell, but she's a closed book, with no dust jacket. "Maybe I have."
Fandom: LOST (sixth season sideways universe)
Pairing: Kate/Sawyer
Rating: R, non-graphic sex and adult situations
Summary: James has never met the suspect before... she just has a familiar face.
AN: For
aboutbunnies, for the Five Acts meme. The kink was "cops and/or fugitives; running from the law."Miles is a couple of yards away, arguing with dispatch on his radio, so he doesn't hear when the suspect turns her face against James' ear and hisses "I've seen you somewhere."
"Maybe you have," he murmurs back, with a smirk that she can't see, as he clicks the cuffs into place behind her back. She's stopped thrashing between his body and the fence like a fish, so he backs off a little, gives her a few inches of personal space. He knows where she's seen him, but he's hoping she won't remember.
"At the airport," she says. She's still winded from running, sucking in deep, urgent breaths. "You saw me in the elevator, and you let me go. You make a habit of that?"
"Not hardly." He's walking her back to the car, hoping that Miles' backup will be here before too long. "Now, FloJo, you've got the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will..."
"I know my rights," she cuts him off, returning the smirk that she hadn't seen him give to her. "I've done this before." He opens the car door and guides her in.
***
Her name is Kate Austen, and it turns out she's charged with murder and several counts of resisting arrest, among other offenses. Bad girl. He looks at her mug shot on file and then shakes the hair off his face and tries to clear his head. Of course she looks familiar -- she's the pretty little thing with the handcuffs, from the airport elevator. He remembers her, because... because she looked familiar.
After stretching to clear his head, drinking a cup of black coffee to clear his head, and taking a walk around the station to clear his head, James gives up and goes down to see her in her holding cell. She's pacing, long legs still going even as her head sags with exhaustion, and her pale eyes widen when she sees him.
"Hey, FloJo. Ya think I know you from somewhere?"
"Yeah. The airport. You remember. Why ‘d you let me go, if you were just going to bring me in again? Is that what you do for fun around here?" She smiles, and leans slowly forward, taking the bars in her hands above her head and sloping into them inch by inch, until he can see the metal pressing little indents into her forearms --
her body presses back against the chain-link fence and their weight shifts into it, lanky arms tugging at their shirts and exposing skin freckled by sunlight. They're testing the fence, seeing how much weight it can take before they really give themselves up to this thing that's been building for so long, and they're out in the open, they know that they're being watched but they don't care, because her skin is hot like cotton sheets hung out under the sun, and they've both denied their natures for so long, when this -- her mouth tugging at the tendons of his neck, her breast arching up into his hand – this is who they are --
James blinks, hard, one, two, three times, but the image still hovers in his mind, superimposed over the windowless holding cells and the captured fugitive leaning toward him. James has an active imagination; he's had his share of daydreams and fantasies. This ain't no fantasy.
"What's wrong, detective?" Austen asks. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
He meets her eyes, looking for some recognition, some kind of a tell, but she's a closed book, with no dust jacket. "Maybe I have."