Fic: Uncharted (LOST: Shannon/Claire)
Oct. 23rd, 2005 06:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thegirl20New fic, new fandom. I haven't seen the whole of the first season of Lost yet. And I don't think I really have a handle on the characters, which is why I'm surprised that I've written this, and even more surprised that I'm posting it. But anyway, here it is.
Title: Uncharted
Author: Angie
Pairing: Shannon/Claire
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Shannon remembers the first time
Spoilers: First half of S1
Word Count: 1355
When we first arrived here I thought it was a temporary glitch. That there was nowhere on earth remote enough that a whole planeful of passengers could just disappear without a trace. I think everyone gave up hope before I did. And that’s not because I’m this big optimist or anything. It’s just that I couldn’t believe that in a world where astronauts in space can watch a guy in Kentucky take a leak for chrissakes, not one fucking rescue crew has managed to get their asses to wherever we are and take us home.
So, yeah, after a while even I had to admit that nobody was gonna come for us. And then I started to get seriously worried. And seriously bored. Boone is only entertaining for so long, with his big ole crush on me and his tortured soul act. So I started to look around. Strangely, there seemed to be a lot of tortured souls on our flight. Everybody has fucking ‘issues’ and everybody is trying to be more heroic and more noble than the next guy.
Well, everybody except Sawyer. Who is attractive in the most annoying way possible. I sometimes catch myself looking at him, especially when he has his shirt off, and then I get really pissed off at myself because the guy really is the definition of an asshole. I hate him. And I hate that I wanna fuck him. Which is never going to happen.
Despite quite a high proportion of good-looking people, there were comparatively few that I want to sleep with. Except her. At first when I saw her I thought she was a ‘no-no’. She’s knocked up. Which generally means straight. Not always, but usually.
Then the little English guy started sniffing around her. I watched him flirt ineptly. I watched her accept his flirting with an air of amusement and pity. I never saw her flirt with him.
Anyway, I kinda struck her off my list ‘til I realised that she had a big yen on for Kate. She wasn’t all that obvious about it. But I saw her watching Kate fawn over Dr Jack with this sad look that I couldn’t quite understand. Watching Kate and Jack makes me sad, but more in a ‘I want to vomit and I don’t like vomiting’ kind of way.
After making this little discovery, I made it my business to get to know her better. So I kissed her. We were out getting water or something equally manually laborious and she had to sit down and rest. So I sat down next to her and leaned over and kissed her. She acted all shocked and tried to pretend she was outraged. Like she wasn’t ‘like that’. Yeah right.
A couple of days after that, she came to me, like I knew she would. By then she must’ve given up hope of ever dragging Kate’s attention away from the many ruggedly handsome men on the island. So she came all shamefaced and apologetic for how she’d acted. It had been a shock, she hadn’t expected it. I shrugged, like I care about any of that.
Then she kissed me. Hard. I kinda thought she might be all gentle and soft. But no. She wanted it and she wanted it now. And I gave it to her. She sucked on my tongue while I fumbled with the many buttons and buckles she seemed to be wearing. Layers upon layers of fucking clothing. You’d think we’d crashed in Siberia.
Eventually I reached skin and I pulled away from her so that I could look. In the darkness, away from the campfire, her milky skin seemed to glow, creating its own light. I ran my hand over her swollen abdomen, marvelling at the firm softness and the light flutterings I could feel underneath. But she wasn’t up for much of that and she pulled me back in, clashing our mouths together, drawing blood. I don’t know to this day if it was hers or mine.
My hand found her breast, much fuller than is normal for such a tiny person. I brushed her nipple with my thumb and she wrenched her lips from mine, emitting a sharp hiss of pain. Or pleasure. Or both. Anyway, when she opened her eyes back up, I swear they’d changed colour. They were practically black. It freaked me out a little bit but then she lunged at me and we both ended up on the ground and after that I didn’t have time to think about being freaked out. Her hands were everywhere. My clothes (way fewer than she’d been wearing) were gone before I knew what was happening. And before I had considered just how much sand and nakedness are not compatible. Her mouth was hot on my neck, her fingers creeping down my stomach and into the increasing moistness between my legs.
It’s pretty much a blur after that. I remember coming to with her still kissing me with those bruising, needy kisses. Obviously she expected me to return the favour. Never having been with a pregnant lady before, I was slightly apprehensive about the whole thing. I registered the fact that we were both lying on our sides, facing each other, and had been since we’d landed on the ground. One of my arms was trapped underneath her back and the other was lying bonelessly at my side. Both hands were covered in sand.
There seemed to be only one logical way forward. I managed to get my arm out from under her and I propped myself up on my elbow, looking down at her. She whined a bit because I’d stopped the kissing but she soon shut up when I ran my tongue down her neck and between her breasts. Well, she didn’t shut up, but she did stop whining. She moaned, loudly. Which was more of a turn on than I’d thought it would be.
I continued licking and kissing my way down her body, over her belly, which again sort of fascinated me and made me feel all weird and tender inside. So I quickly moved on.
Generally, when engaging in this activity, you can see the other person’s face. All I could see was the underside of her bump. It made it very anonymous and detached. Which normally isn’t that much of a problem for me. But for some reason, with her, it was a problem.
I reached my hand up, after trying to dust most of the sand off, and laid it on top of her belly. After a few seconds, I felt her fingers lace through mine. When she came, her nails dug into my knuckles and this time, it was definitely my blood she drew.
I kind of commando-crawled, gracelessly (and chafingly) back up beside her. We lay in the dark, naked and panting. Her hand found mine and held it loosely. Then she scooted closer to me and put her head on my shoulder. I put my arm around her. We lay like that till the annoying English dwarf-boy started yelling her name. She turned her head and kissed me on the lips, soft and slow. Then she jumped up with pretty impressive agility and started pulling on her many, many items of clothing. I just watched her. When she was fully dressed, she turned and gave me a little wave and then walked away. I watched her go with all these confusing and conflicting feelings.
Since then, it’s happened a number of times. Sometimes I go to her. Mostly she comes to me. Occasionally it’s slow and gentle. Usually it’s fast and hard. It’s always good. She doesn’t look at Kate with that sad, pathetic expression anymore. Now she looks at me.
We still don’t talk much during the day. The odd word here and there. But at night, afterwards, we talk. And we snuggle. And we kiss. And we’ve learned to use blankets.
When I’m lying with her, all wrapped up, with my hand on her belly, looking at the stars…I kind of forget why I want to be rescued.
Title: Uncharted
Author: Angie
Pairing: Shannon/Claire
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Shannon remembers the first time
Spoilers: First half of S1
Word Count: 1355
When we first arrived here I thought it was a temporary glitch. That there was nowhere on earth remote enough that a whole planeful of passengers could just disappear without a trace. I think everyone gave up hope before I did. And that’s not because I’m this big optimist or anything. It’s just that I couldn’t believe that in a world where astronauts in space can watch a guy in Kentucky take a leak for chrissakes, not one fucking rescue crew has managed to get their asses to wherever we are and take us home.
So, yeah, after a while even I had to admit that nobody was gonna come for us. And then I started to get seriously worried. And seriously bored. Boone is only entertaining for so long, with his big ole crush on me and his tortured soul act. So I started to look around. Strangely, there seemed to be a lot of tortured souls on our flight. Everybody has fucking ‘issues’ and everybody is trying to be more heroic and more noble than the next guy.
Well, everybody except Sawyer. Who is attractive in the most annoying way possible. I sometimes catch myself looking at him, especially when he has his shirt off, and then I get really pissed off at myself because the guy really is the definition of an asshole. I hate him. And I hate that I wanna fuck him. Which is never going to happen.
Despite quite a high proportion of good-looking people, there were comparatively few that I want to sleep with. Except her. At first when I saw her I thought she was a ‘no-no’. She’s knocked up. Which generally means straight. Not always, but usually.
Then the little English guy started sniffing around her. I watched him flirt ineptly. I watched her accept his flirting with an air of amusement and pity. I never saw her flirt with him.
Anyway, I kinda struck her off my list ‘til I realised that she had a big yen on for Kate. She wasn’t all that obvious about it. But I saw her watching Kate fawn over Dr Jack with this sad look that I couldn’t quite understand. Watching Kate and Jack makes me sad, but more in a ‘I want to vomit and I don’t like vomiting’ kind of way.
After making this little discovery, I made it my business to get to know her better. So I kissed her. We were out getting water or something equally manually laborious and she had to sit down and rest. So I sat down next to her and leaned over and kissed her. She acted all shocked and tried to pretend she was outraged. Like she wasn’t ‘like that’. Yeah right.
A couple of days after that, she came to me, like I knew she would. By then she must’ve given up hope of ever dragging Kate’s attention away from the many ruggedly handsome men on the island. So she came all shamefaced and apologetic for how she’d acted. It had been a shock, she hadn’t expected it. I shrugged, like I care about any of that.
Then she kissed me. Hard. I kinda thought she might be all gentle and soft. But no. She wanted it and she wanted it now. And I gave it to her. She sucked on my tongue while I fumbled with the many buttons and buckles she seemed to be wearing. Layers upon layers of fucking clothing. You’d think we’d crashed in Siberia.
Eventually I reached skin and I pulled away from her so that I could look. In the darkness, away from the campfire, her milky skin seemed to glow, creating its own light. I ran my hand over her swollen abdomen, marvelling at the firm softness and the light flutterings I could feel underneath. But she wasn’t up for much of that and she pulled me back in, clashing our mouths together, drawing blood. I don’t know to this day if it was hers or mine.
My hand found her breast, much fuller than is normal for such a tiny person. I brushed her nipple with my thumb and she wrenched her lips from mine, emitting a sharp hiss of pain. Or pleasure. Or both. Anyway, when she opened her eyes back up, I swear they’d changed colour. They were practically black. It freaked me out a little bit but then she lunged at me and we both ended up on the ground and after that I didn’t have time to think about being freaked out. Her hands were everywhere. My clothes (way fewer than she’d been wearing) were gone before I knew what was happening. And before I had considered just how much sand and nakedness are not compatible. Her mouth was hot on my neck, her fingers creeping down my stomach and into the increasing moistness between my legs.
It’s pretty much a blur after that. I remember coming to with her still kissing me with those bruising, needy kisses. Obviously she expected me to return the favour. Never having been with a pregnant lady before, I was slightly apprehensive about the whole thing. I registered the fact that we were both lying on our sides, facing each other, and had been since we’d landed on the ground. One of my arms was trapped underneath her back and the other was lying bonelessly at my side. Both hands were covered in sand.
There seemed to be only one logical way forward. I managed to get my arm out from under her and I propped myself up on my elbow, looking down at her. She whined a bit because I’d stopped the kissing but she soon shut up when I ran my tongue down her neck and between her breasts. Well, she didn’t shut up, but she did stop whining. She moaned, loudly. Which was more of a turn on than I’d thought it would be.
I continued licking and kissing my way down her body, over her belly, which again sort of fascinated me and made me feel all weird and tender inside. So I quickly moved on.
Generally, when engaging in this activity, you can see the other person’s face. All I could see was the underside of her bump. It made it very anonymous and detached. Which normally isn’t that much of a problem for me. But for some reason, with her, it was a problem.
I reached my hand up, after trying to dust most of the sand off, and laid it on top of her belly. After a few seconds, I felt her fingers lace through mine. When she came, her nails dug into my knuckles and this time, it was definitely my blood she drew.
I kind of commando-crawled, gracelessly (and chafingly) back up beside her. We lay in the dark, naked and panting. Her hand found mine and held it loosely. Then she scooted closer to me and put her head on my shoulder. I put my arm around her. We lay like that till the annoying English dwarf-boy started yelling her name. She turned her head and kissed me on the lips, soft and slow. Then she jumped up with pretty impressive agility and started pulling on her many, many items of clothing. I just watched her. When she was fully dressed, she turned and gave me a little wave and then walked away. I watched her go with all these confusing and conflicting feelings.
Since then, it’s happened a number of times. Sometimes I go to her. Mostly she comes to me. Occasionally it’s slow and gentle. Usually it’s fast and hard. It’s always good. She doesn’t look at Kate with that sad, pathetic expression anymore. Now she looks at me.
We still don’t talk much during the day. The odd word here and there. But at night, afterwards, we talk. And we snuggle. And we kiss. And we’ve learned to use blankets.
When I’m lying with her, all wrapped up, with my hand on her belly, looking at the stars…I kind of forget why I want to be rescued.