no one belongs here more than you
It’s the only type of imprisonment she can’t get enough of. LOST - alex/richard. season three- no episode in particular. rated R, just in case.
She always feels guilty when he comes after her, never saying a word, but watching her. She’s always lived under constant scrutiny, remaining under lock and key, forever imprisoned. If Ben couldn’t watch her, someone else was always nearby, studying her every move.
Richard never used to hover. Now, she feels goosebumps creep up her skin, a sure indication that he is behind her. She wants to scream, to claw at him even, because there’s something about running loose in the jungle that brings out the inner beast in her.
Or maybe, she thinks, maybe it’s something about Richard that makes her so unpredictably wild.
"He’s fine," Richard tells her shortly and he could mean either Ben or Karl, but somehow she knows he’s speaking of her boyfriend. Her boyfriend who she should be worried about; who she is worried about, except when Richard’s nearby. When he steps near her, he seems to fill her mind, until all other thoughts disappear, discarded as unimportant.
She spins around, large eyes looking up at him uncertainly. "I love him," she whispers and she says it like a challenge, like she’s daring him to prove her wrong.
He looks down, smirking and nods. "I know," he tells her, holding his tongue as if he’s biting back the urge to laugh at her.
Don’t laugh at me, I’m not a child, she thinks stubbornly, but it’s a worn argument and they both know she’s stuck somewhere between kid and adult with more willpower than most adults combined and more foolishness than a child of four.
She’s an enigma to him, she knows. He doesn’t understand what motivates her and why, and there’s so much more to his curiosity, things he’ll never tell her and truths she craves but has already accepted that she’ll never know.
She sighs, crossing her arms behind her back. She plays with her hands listlessly, looking up at him with a mixture of shyness and mischief.
He takes a step closer and she shudders. She hates how emotionally transparent she can be around him.
"Your father..."
"I don’t want to talk about my father," she says firmly, her voice raspy and harsh, slicing through him quickly.
He almost winces.
She forgets how to breathe.
Instantaneously and after what feels like hours, Richard plunges forward, animal-like and savage, and she can’t keep track of where his hands are as he pushes her roughly against the trunk of the tree behind her. She’s panting loudly as his lips burn against her neck, his hands finally finding hers and raising her arms up, pinning her painfully against the tree.
It’s the only type of imprisonment she can’t get enough of.
She turns her head away, as if to fight him, which only encourages him more. She can’t resist teasing him, but eventually, like always, she gives in, her lips igniting with his as she breaks free of his grasp, her hands rummaging frantically under the back of his shirt.
She’s gasping for air as he pushes the length of her dress up around her hips, her legs wrapping around him expertly. There’s something strangely ironic about the baby doll dresses Ben insists on giving to her, and there’s something exciting for both Alex and Richard about his fucking her in a dress made for a twelve year old.
Her fingers pull at his belt and she pushes his pants down with her legs as his mouth bites down on the skin around her collarbone, his hands on her breasts, her fingers in his hair. She’s no twelve year old.
There’s a moment when he cups her face, right before he plunges into her, where his knuckles rub against her jaw line and her mouth falls open inadvertently, and both of their eyes widen with the strange significance of what they’re doing and what it really means to them.
Then her head snaps back against the bark of the tree and Richard pulls her hips closer into him, digging deeper and deeper inside of her, and she feels like she’s melting and disappearing, the prospect of being found out makes her feel safer than she ever has under Ben’s protection.
A few more minutes of gasping and pushing and it’s over, his hand clamping over her mouth as she screams, then bites down on him, tasting blood on her tongue. She takes a few more minutes to cool down before she dares to breathe again, her heartbeat refusing to return to normal.
"Alex." He whispers her name as she collapses onto him, her head digging into his chest. He kisses her forehead slowly, familiarly, and his hands rub her hair comfortingly.
"I have to go," they both say at the same time, like an inside joke between the two of them, and she smiles into his shirt as he pulls her away so that he can look at her. She looks down slowly, embarrassed almost, until his finger pushes her chin back up, their eyes colliding.
"We really can’t do this anymore," he tells her, warns her almost, and she rolls her eyes, arms folding across her chest.
"Okay," she agrees, leaning back against the tree, because her knees are still weak and shaking and she hasn’t quite remembered how to breathe without thinking about it.
But he kisses her roughly again, just like she knows he will, and when a tiny sigh escapes her lips, he pulls away, eyes roaming up and down her body.
"Okay," he agrees, and she swears to god he vanishes in front of her eyes.