blood and tears, they were here first (Jacob/Kate, PG-13)
Title: blood and tears, they were here first
Fandom: LOST
Characters: Jacob/Kate
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 446
Summary: They suffocate in the lifeless shade. (for 12_stories , grey)
They stand out from the jungle, like dirty eraser marks on the carefully drawn landscape. Kate is beautiful but insufficient, her green shirt as dull as his own dingy white. Jacob wasn't meant to be here, on this island, with her, under this tree so large it blocks out the comforting heat of the sun. They suffocate in the lifeless shade.
Jacob wonders who decided this would be their role in life, that of a substitute son, a substitute mother, cheap copies of the people they should have been. The bruised fruit surrounding them holds more substance than either of them are capable of, and Jacob hands her a piece just to watch the juice dribble down her chin. He slides his tongue down the red line, pretending the sharp sweetness is her own.
He could swear the ground beneath them grows soft, dragging them down into holes while its chosen ones run and hide. Destiny will always pick someone else, snapping its jealous teeth over them when he tries to take her away. Somewhere cold, he thinks. He would take Kate some place cold and pale and empty, where the yellows and greens and pinks and blues of their bodies would be the only warmth for miles.
Her hands skim his ribs, and he pulls them closer to feel the scratch of nails on skin. It's not enough. It never is. No matter what he does, as tight as he holds her and as hard as she kisses him, Jacob is not good enough. Kate isn't bad enough. They will never be anything but grey.
They push at each other, imaginary wine already dissolved from their mouths. She chokes on dust and he cries out in frustration when it's over almost before it begins. Jacob drags his thumb over her cheek, her tears smearing into colorless mud.
He is left with nothing but filth inside and out, aching with the need for his name to spill louder from her lips, for her cheeks to burn red when he touches her. Always needing more.
Kate's fingers tremble as she pulls at the hem of her shirt. "It's never going to be enough, Jacob," she whispers in response to his unasked question.
He grinds his teeth, his forehead pressed hard into the dip below her shoulder. "Why? It doesn't want us. It never did."
She works her hands over the back of his neck, her touch too light to ever purge the tension that builds inside him, slowly eating him away. Her voice is soft, resigned, and he swings an angry fist into the dirt (he's not Adam and she's not Eve).
"Because we're all it has."
Fandom: LOST
Characters: Jacob/Kate
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 446
Summary: They suffocate in the lifeless shade. (for 12_stories , grey)
They stand out from the jungle, like dirty eraser marks on the carefully drawn landscape. Kate is beautiful but insufficient, her green shirt as dull as his own dingy white. Jacob wasn't meant to be here, on this island, with her, under this tree so large it blocks out the comforting heat of the sun. They suffocate in the lifeless shade.
Jacob wonders who decided this would be their role in life, that of a substitute son, a substitute mother, cheap copies of the people they should have been. The bruised fruit surrounding them holds more substance than either of them are capable of, and Jacob hands her a piece just to watch the juice dribble down her chin. He slides his tongue down the red line, pretending the sharp sweetness is her own.
He could swear the ground beneath them grows soft, dragging them down into holes while its chosen ones run and hide. Destiny will always pick someone else, snapping its jealous teeth over them when he tries to take her away. Somewhere cold, he thinks. He would take Kate some place cold and pale and empty, where the yellows and greens and pinks and blues of their bodies would be the only warmth for miles.
Her hands skim his ribs, and he pulls them closer to feel the scratch of nails on skin. It's not enough. It never is. No matter what he does, as tight as he holds her and as hard as she kisses him, Jacob is not good enough. Kate isn't bad enough. They will never be anything but grey.
They push at each other, imaginary wine already dissolved from their mouths. She chokes on dust and he cries out in frustration when it's over almost before it begins. Jacob drags his thumb over her cheek, her tears smearing into colorless mud.
He is left with nothing but filth inside and out, aching with the need for his name to spill louder from her lips, for her cheeks to burn red when he touches her. Always needing more.
Kate's fingers tremble as she pulls at the hem of her shirt. "It's never going to be enough, Jacob," she whispers in response to his unasked question.
He grinds his teeth, his forehead pressed hard into the dip below her shoulder. "Why? It doesn't want us. It never did."
She works her hands over the back of his neck, her touch too light to ever purge the tension that builds inside him, slowly eating him away. Her voice is soft, resigned, and he swings an angry fist into the dirt (he's not Adam and she's not Eve).
"Because we're all it has."