DISCLAIMER: Lost and its characters are the property of JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, Touchstone Television, ABC and Disney.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Written for the Fourth of July! femslash_today Porn Battle.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Kate pins Ana-Lucia to the mattress by the wrists. Thinks the cop isn't as tough as she portrays, or is allowing Kate to top her. Either way, it doesn't matter. What matters is the writhing of Ana-Lucia's hips beneath her, the feel of Ana-Lucia's breasts against her own. And when Kate leans in to kiss her, hot and wet and sloppy, the taste of Ana-Lucia on her lips.
They're in another of the numerous hatches sprinkled about the island. It's different than all the others. But, Kate doesn't care. What matters is there's a bed and they're alone.
What matters is Ana-Lucia's hands are working on Kate's shirt and the clumsy, hurried fumblings between them until there's nothing but skin and sweat and desire. Because they live in a world where all that matters is now.
Now, Ana-Lucia wants Kate. Kate wants Ana-Lucia. Drives her thigh between the toned legs, pressing against wet, swollen heat, pinning Ana-Lucia to the mattress with her body. The two slip sliding against each other, writhing, connected at the mouths, grunting, gasping, fucking each other with a frenzied, manic pace. Because who knew when they'd get the chance again.
Kate comes first, hard and quick, bucking into Ana-Lucia, thigh driving against Ana-Lucia's clit and Ana-Lucia's joining her. Fingernails digging into Kate's back, hips arching, grinding, riding the thigh between her legs until every ounce of energy is spent.
Eventually, Kate rolls onto her back, tucking an arm behind her head and desperately wishing for a cigarette. The air is thick and warm, keeps the sweat on her skin from drying, the scent of sex in the air from dissipating. And now it's Kate who finds herself pinned to the mattress, arching, eagerly submitting to Ana-Lucia, legs spreading, wrapping around Ana-Lucia's waist. At the fingers thrusting into her so hard and deep she cries out. Kate gives in to the moment, succumbing to the pleasure. To the now. Because it was all they had.
And who knew when they'd have it again.
Return to Lost Fiction
Return to Main Page