Fandom: Lost, Supernatural, Prison Break
Pairings: Kate/Kevin, Kate/Jack and two other pairings that should be fairly obvious
Summary: Kate likes to be in control
Warning: Non-con and pretty damn dark.
Spoilers: "I Do" (Lost), no real spoilers for the others
Note: Thank you to eponine119 for the nudge and foxxcub for the beta! :) And, with a slight tweak, I realize this fits this week's lostsquee prompt, "Lullaby, blue, tremor." This is a Kate-centric fic so even if you don't watch the other two shows, it should still work.
Kevin staggered, the glass slipping from his fingers, and then he fell to his knees, the shock of what she’d done to him just now registering.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, unable to look away as he his hips jerked in a futile attempt to stand. He couldn’t even talk anymore, he could just stare at her with that accusing glance, face clouded with hurt and confusion.
The drug finally overcame him and he went limp on the carpet, head turned toward the telltale glass, legs sprawled where he’d fallen. She knelt down beside him, committing his slackened, defenseless face to memory, fingertips grazing over his cheek.
She swept her legs apart, straddling him. She wiped his lips with the hem of her skirt and then she cupped his head in her hands, angling it up to meet her. His head was surprisingly heavy. His eyes were closed but his mouth was open when she kissed Kevin goodbye.
There were other men in the bar who clearly had more money, like the potbellied, middle-aged guy with the expensive, handtooled cowboy boots, or the man over in the corner, the only one in this honky tonk dive who was wearing a suit.
But when the handsome young stud in a black leather jacket with the chiseled features of a model and the killer smile of a con man walked over to her, she knew her work was done for tonight.
He introduced himself as Jake Gittes. Did he think no one else had ever seen a Jack Nicholson film? If he suspected that Melody wasn’t her real name, he gave no sign. He bought her a few drinks and she smiled and laughed at his jokes and leaned in to touch his arm and in no time at all he was leading her back to his motel room, a cluster of low-rent cottages, conveniently right across the parking lot from the bar.
But that short walk was too long to wait for “Jake.” He maneuvered her into the unlit walkway between two of the cottages and shoved her up against the faux-clapboard wall. She protested that they should wait until they got back to his room, not because she cared whether anyone saw them, but because she knew the drug she’d slipped into his fourth beer was going to start taking effect soon. It was slower-acting than the one she’s used on Kevin. Knocking a guy out too fast didn’t do her any good, unless she timed it just right, between picking him up and luring him to the men’s room for sex. It had become a kind of game, trying to gauge the right dosage, judging the man’s height and weight and how much he’d already had to drink.
In this case, she admitted she didn’t want him to pass out before anything happened, so she tried to resist when he yanked her skirt up and her panties down, insisting that they shouldn’t do this out here.
He covered her protest in kisses, pinning her body against the wall as he felt how insanely wet she was. “Tell me this doesn’t feel good,” he purred in her ear, as he showed her he knew exactly what he was doing. She gave in then, let him sink to his knees and assault her clit with his tongue until she was gripping his shoulders, gasping with each tremor. Even if he passed out right now, no one would find him out here until the morning. She was safe.
But she had misjudged this one. He got to his feet, only a tad unsteady, and kissed her, deep and slow, letting her taste herself on his tongue. He ground into her, fully hard, and she realized she had really misjudged him. She had a split’s second panic, thinking that he was onto her, that he had switched drinks on her, but then he pulled back, into the dim blue light coming from the motel sign, and she saw how narrow his pupils were. They should be wide with arousal, but they were practically pinpricks.
He was steady enough as he led her to his hotel room, fumbling briefly with the keys. He wouldn’t let her in until he’d flicked on the lights and looked around, which struck her as odd, until she saw a knapsack at the foot of each bed.
She sat on the nearest bed while he dove into one bag and produced a red bandanna. “So my brother doesn’t interrupt us,” he said with a wink and went to tie it around the outside doorknob.
“Why don’t you just use the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign?’ She laid back on the bed, spreading her legs. Her panties were still in the back pocket of his jeans.
“Cheap motels don’t always have ‘em,” he said with a sigh. “And hey, my motto is, ‘Be prepared.’”
“You don’t seem like much of a Boy Scout.” She slid her skirt off and threw it at him.
He caught it and twirled it around one hand by the waistband before tossing it behind him with a grin. “You have no idea.”
He lurched towards her with a leer, but he’d waited too long. He was out before his face hit the shag carpet.
She shouldn’t be doing this, except that she knew she had the time. He wasn’t that tall, but he was densely built and deceptively well-muscled under loose layers of clothing, so she had a hard time wrestling him into a chair. But she'd handled men much bigger than him before. She rummaged in the packs, looking for a belt or something else to tie him up with, when she found the rope. Maybe he wasn’t kidding about the Boy Scout thing after all.
She took off only his jacket and button-up plaid shirt, keeping his T- shirt and jeans on. She unzipped him, coaxing his cock out of his Y-front boxers. She cradled it in her hands, awed, as always, by the power she had over a man once he was out cold.
Kate half wished he would come to, that she could fuck him right here in the chair, see him fight against his bonds but not be able to get free and then have him give in to the pleasure of it, let his rage and frustration fuel the best fucking orgasm of his life.
She knelt down, taking his cock in her mouth, tongue trailing the underside in a way she knew drove most men crazy. Disappointment and relief mingled when he didn’t get hard.
She gave up and tossed the room, finding nothing more than a few dollars in his wallet and a clearly fake i.d. since there was no way his real name was “Hector Aframian.” So she searched him further and found the money pouch he had sewn into his waistband. She had to smile at that. He didn’t trust anyone either.
She glanced at the clock. Two a.m. She had blown this one, but, just this once, she was going to give it a second chance. She flicked on the TV and watched the late movie with John Wayne.
Three hours was pushing it. The sun was going to be up soon and the brother was surely going to be back any minute. She had no idea how much time the “Don’t come in. Fucking,” signal was supposed to buy.
When “Jake” started to stir, she knew this was going to be worth it. He opened his eyes, still groggy, when she took up her position between his legs again. He could only gasp when his cock passed her lips.
”Jesus, woman,” he gasped. “What the fuck?” And then he was bucking up, cursing. He was hard at last. He strained against the ropes and she could practically feel the exquisite burn of how they cut into his wrists. He tried to kick out, but she had tied his legs too. He made a move to tip the chair backwards, but she caught it in time.
“Nuh uh uh,” she said, waving a finger and she settled on top of him, guiding him inside and he stopped fighting her. The chair rocked with each thrust of her hips and she arched closer. “Give it to me,” she whispered. “Give me all you’ve got. Fucking give it to me.” She didn’t dare kiss him because she didn’t want to get bitten, but then again, kissing wasn’t really her thing. He glared at her, called her every name in the book and then he was hers, his eyes squeezing shut tight as he gasped, mouth open like a fish yanked brutally from the water.
It took only a few quick strokes to bring herself to join him and she rode it out, savoring each wave of pleasure as it hit. He was spent but she wasn’t and she brought herself to orgasm again and again, not wanting it to end. But it was almost morning and she’d already lingered too long.
“Lady, I don’t mind the kinky stuff, but you could at least ask a guy first,” he spat out as she slid off of him.
“I’m not a lady. Any more than you’re a Boy Scout,” she said, retrieving her panties from his pocket and pulling them on. They were still damp.
He tried to kick again, succeeding only in moving the chair a few inches, which made her smile. She could do him the courtesy of tucking him back in, at least, but she enjoyed picturing the look on his brother’s face when he walked in the door.
“Hey. HEY!” He yelled at her, frustration choking his voice as she headed for the door. “You can’t leave me here like this. I will FIND you.”
She opened the door, the red bandanna catching her eye. She considered keeping it, but then she realized she had a much better use for it. She balled it up and walked back over to him with a wicked grin.
“Oh, no you...” was all he had a chance to say before she stuffed it in his mouth.
She closed the door quietly behind her. She was in luck. The sun wasn’t up yet and no one saw her leave.
She recognized him instantly, leaning against the wall outside a convenience store, slightly hunched over as if not wanting to draw attention to himself.
He kept his head down but from the way his eyes darted under the brim of that baseball cap, she knew he was scanning the area the way only a man on the run does. Not that she could forget a face that had been all over the nightly news for months and on every wanted poster. Of course, he wouldn’t know her from Adam. She was nowhere near as wanted as he was.
It was the work of a moment to bum a cigarette off of him, to strike up a conversation. He was brusque at first but as she rambled on brightly, he appeared to relax. When she asked him if he was good with cars, he hesitated only slightly before asking her what the problem was.
“Damn AC,” she said, shielding her eyes from the hot Mississippi sun. “Conked out a few towns back and since it’s Saturday ...” She pulled her damp T-shirt away from her body, flapping the thin cotton material back and forth in an effort to cool herself off. For the first time, he took in the curves of her body, her tight shirt and the short shorts and she knew that he was counting up all that time he’d spent inside and on the run and deciding maybe it was finally time to get some.
He glanced at the store, as if there was a sign in the window that would help him make up his mind, and then he nodded, that deep voice of his rumbling low in his throat. “Okay, let me take a look.”
She pointed the way to her little Toyota Corolla and he’d dutifully fiddled with the engine, only looking towards the store now and then. Sure enough, he did know about cars. The AC was kicking in, so it was only natural to suggest that she drive it around the block to get the full effect. He nodded and got in. She offered him some water for his troubles and he drank it down in one gulp before he started to blink slowly. She pulled over on a limited access road that lead straight to the water.
He muttered something about it being too hot as he slumped in his seat. She put the car in park and crawled over to him, sitting in his lap as he regarded her sleepily. She had to work fast and he seemed to realize it too, because he was helping her get his jeans off and then she was on him, riding him hard and he was urging her on with gasped curse words. He gripped her hips with those big, meaty hands, spurring her to go faster. One second he was coming with an animal-like grunt and the next he was out, face smashed up against the glass of the car window.
Kate sat still for a few minutes, feeling his pulse inside her as it slowed. She didn’t move until he started to slip out.
She climbed off of him and lit another cigarette from his pack with his lighter, watching him from behind curls of smoke.
She didn’t truly know what she wanted to do now. She couldn’t turn him in for the reward money herself and she wouldn’t turn someone in just on principle. The thrill had been in recognizing him, in luring him away, in timing it just right so that she could fuck him before he passed out.
Her heart raced as she realized she could do anything with him now. She could just roll the car forward, into the water, and he would be powerless. The air in the car might last until he came to and he might be able to break a window and swim to safety, his lungs bursting as he finally surfaced. Or he could simply slip away, unnoticed, unmourned, the mystery only solved weeks or months later when the car, registered to a Mary Ellen Smith, would be found, with America’s most wanted criminal inside, seemingly struck down by cruel fate.
She fingered his lighter, letting it spark to life over and over. She could cut the gas line, send him out in flames instead of in water. She felt again the heat of the house in flames behind her, played out the impact of the explosion, more intense than she could have ever anticipated.
But she wanted to keep the car. And she didn’t really have anything against him. So she opened the door and let him fall to the hot asphalt below. She had to shove his legs out of the car -- and then make sure she didn’t run him over when she backed up -- and she drove off without looking back.
She turned on the AC full blast, grateful for the long-absent blessing of coolness on such a miserably hot day.
She’d done it for Jack’s own good. He desperately needed to sleep and he was going to collapse again if he didn’t. He stumbled backward, sitting down heavily, fighting it. His eyelids were already drooping as she confessed that she’d drugged his orange juice.
“Oh, okay.” He was too stunned to be angry.
“Night,” she said softly, pleased with herself as his eyes fluttered shut and he slept, truly slept, for the first time in days. A snatch of song came to her, Lullaby and good night, see you in the morning... as she tucked a pillow under his head.
She drew the flap over the tent so that no one would disturb him. She’d watch over him, make sure he didn’t wake too soon.
She lie down next to him, stretching out so that their bodies were joined, hip to hip, her head dropping onto his chest. She listened to his breaths, felt the comforting rise and fall of his chest, and she dropped off to sleep herself.
When she woke, he was still out. She blew an experimental breath against his cheek but he didn’t stir. She’d never felt this close to him. He was always keeping her at arm’s length, not trusting her, and she hated that.
Of course, drugging him wasn’t the way to win his trust. She knew that, knew he’d be furious when he came to. But for now, she could lie against him and listen to his heartbeat and feel like she had done a good thing.
She knew it wasn’t right to slip a hand under his shirt, to tangle her fingers in the dense hair on his chest. It wasn’t right to brush her lips over his, to try to wake him with a kiss like he was some slumbering fairy tale prince. But she’d left “right” a few steps back and she didn’t care. He was hers, for this moment, and she didn’t know when that moment would ever come again.
It was one small step from there to unbuttoning his jeans, to teasing her hand around his cock, and seeing if she could get him to stir to life. She watched him intently as she spit in the palm of her hand and coaxed him into hardness. His eyes moved rapidly under his eyelids, jerking back and forth, and she knew he was dreaming. Might as well give him a good dream. He was starting to breathe faster now and she couldn’t have stopped if she tried.
She rolled him onto his back and tugged his jeans down. She was so wet already, she wanted him to feel how wet as she eased herself down onto him.
His breathing changed. She could hear it hitching in his throat as she rocked into him. She moved slowly at first, just feeling him hard and full inside her, and then she couldn’t help but speed up, to let her body drive into his again and again.
She wasn’t sure when his eyes jerked open, when they registered that this was no dream, but that she was really making love to him. He blinked, still groggy, and said her name and then his head fell back. He was helpless under her, under what she was doing to him and the thought made her clench all the harder around him.
He groaned, head lolling on the pillow and she guided his hands to her breasts. He clutched at her convulsively, his breath coming faster, and she hastened her movements. She brought his right hand to her clit, rubbing herself the way she would with her own hand and he let her.
She came before him and as she tightened around him, his body jerked under her and he tumbled into the oblivion of his orgasm. Her name was a question on his lips when he came. When he was himself again, he reached out, snaring her hair in his outstretched fingers.
“It’s what you needed,” she said simply, bending down to kiss him for the first time.