Pairing: Juliet/Kate with an undertone of past Ben/Juliet
Prompt: #3, Wrath
Summary: Post "DOC". Kate needs to forget. Juliet just needs revenge.
Notes: This one's been in the works for months, contributing somewhat to the age of writer's block I had in there. It actually started as a Juliet/Sun piece, but I've been wanting to slash Juliet and Kate forever, so I switched. A bit more PWP than I intended. My first venture into the femslashy world…
There were no questions asked. Not about the hatch. Not about the room with the faded memories of mothers long lost to the island’s insatiable belly. Juliet supposed Kate had taken to caring less and wanting more by now, with Jack being nothing less than could possibly be called Jack.
Kate was not surprised to feel Juliet’s stilling fingers against her wrist, nor did she pretend to be. The ultrasound slipped to its table and was forgotten, lost in the intricacy of moments yet to come and moments ready to be left behind. Juliet’s cool palm pressed softly into the underside of her breast and Kate pressed back, eager to lose herself. To get lost.
Juliet rose softly, crawling onto the table with the sort of soft but deadly elegance that seemed to go with her every move. Their legs tangled together as Juliet slid up Kate’s front, lifting her light camp shirt over her head. Kate gave an encouraging sort of smile that looked shaky, as if it were meant more for herself. Juliet splayed her hand across the younger woman’s cheek, brushing the soft dip of skin just under her left eye.
There were no words spoken. The kisses were light at first, almost chaste. Juliet initiated, but as the minutes wore on, Kate grew bolder. Juliet felt a warm palm up under her shirt, pressing against her hip, crawling slowly upward to cup the curve of her breast, brush a nipple. She moaned softly, smiling against Kate’s smile.
Clothes disappeared, as they have a funny way of doing in such situations, and the cool metal of the table took in a few degrees. Kate’s kisses were hungry, furious lips working with one end in mind: forget. She let herself go, clutching at Juliet’s arms, asking with action to leave her gone.
Kate flipped Juliet in one swift motion. Juliet was clearly pleased to see Kate responding so positively. She wrapped her legs around Kate’s and pushed her head back into the table, leaving the column of her neck arched and exposed. Kate worked her way down Juliet’s neck, across her collarbone to her breasts, pulling the pink tip of a nipple into the heat of her mouth. Juliet moaned loudly.
Kate’s fingers found their way to the crevice of Juliet’s thighs, followed closely by her lips. Juliet’s finger’s twisted into Kate’s curls, pushing her on eagerly as her eyes slipped shut in abandon.
“Juliet…” Kate spoke softly, her mouth pressed to Juliet’s thigh. As she went back to work with her tongue, laving her clit, Juliet jutted her thigh upwards to slit between Kate’s legs. Kate bucked her hips against the milky-white surface of Juliet’s thigh with a whimper. She rode frantically, her fingers rubbing Juliet’s clit as she rose up now, breasts bouncing, putting all her effort into finding release. Juliet looked on as Kate’s face contorted in pleasure, soft moans and whimpers falling from her lips, eyes squeezed shut – she needed it. Juliet watched fixedly, hardly caring about the loss of Kate’s talented mouth, her focus on the young woman riding her, desperate for release. Kate let out a long moan, her wetness slicking to a stop against Juliet’s leg as she panted heavily. Juliet came shortly, shuddering, crying Kate’s name to the room, Kate’s fingers still moving inside her as her tongue just touched back.
The two women fell back together, limbs crossing over limbs, brown curls falling across sleek, blond tresses. As soon as Juliet was sure Kate had nodded off, she detangled herself, tiptoeing across the frigid floor to unlatch one of the many lockers lining the wall. Her hair skimmed over her shoulders, falling against her breasts as she leaned in to grab the small, hand-held tape recorder. She stared at the tiny, identifying dot of light that marked the device as “on” with a gleam of malice in her eyes, bringing her lips to rest against its speaker.
“It looks as if these Dharma batteries last well enough.”
She flicked the side-switch to “off” and put the recorder back in its place, where it sat, ready to be picked up and listened to by Benjamin Linus.