whisper so sweetly, jacob/ilana
Title: Whisper So Sweetly
Fandom: LOST
Characters: Jacob/Ilana
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 374
Summary: Ilana continues to prove to Jacob that he doesn't know everything about everything. (Written for the lostsquee Fic Battle)
Ilana slips out of her tent, positioning herself in the moonlight. From the shadows, Jacob watches as she lifts graceful arms above her head and begins to dance. Her movements are slow and fluid, almost too delicate. Once again she manages to break the image he had carefully built of her in his mind.
Her lips twist into a mysterious smile, and her dance quickens. Her feet kick up small clouds of sand as she spins, no less graceful than before. She is wild and unpredictable and beautiful, like the ocean, Jacob thinks.
He studies her for what seems an eternity. When she comes to a stop, her arms lower to rest on her hips. "I know you've been watching," she calls into the night. She is quiet, so as not to wake the others, but he can hear amusement in her voice.
He steps through the circle of torches; smiles apologetically. Ilana holds out a hand. "Dance with me," she says.
Jacob hesitates. "I can't."
"You mean to tell me you're so bound to your rules you can't ever enjoy yourself?"
He slides his fingers over her palm. "I can't dance."
"Anyone can dance," Ilana says with a smirk. "I will teach you." She takes his other hand and places it at her waist. He steps closer, but not too close, he reminds himself. Her shirt has slid up from dancing, and his hand brushes bare skin.
Ilana leads and Jacob follows her movements, careful not to step on her toes. They turn in slow circles, but the world races about him dizzily.
Jacob's throat is dry as he gazes down at her, curls damp about her flushed face. He tries to convince himself that this is another game, this time with her sharing the instructions, but the idea rings in a hollow echo inside his skull.
He swallows. "Ilana," he whispers. This is wrong, he means to say, but she brings a finger to his lips.
"Don't speak," she quietly orders. "Dance is the language of the body." She presses against him, her body soft and warm. Jacob's hand moves to her back, pulling her close.
They dance together in the darkness, and their bodies say, I am bound by no rules.
Fandom: LOST
Characters: Jacob/Ilana
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 374
Summary: Ilana continues to prove to Jacob that he doesn't know everything about everything. (Written for the lostsquee Fic Battle)
Ilana slips out of her tent, positioning herself in the moonlight. From the shadows, Jacob watches as she lifts graceful arms above her head and begins to dance. Her movements are slow and fluid, almost too delicate. Once again she manages to break the image he had carefully built of her in his mind.
Her lips twist into a mysterious smile, and her dance quickens. Her feet kick up small clouds of sand as she spins, no less graceful than before. She is wild and unpredictable and beautiful, like the ocean, Jacob thinks.
He studies her for what seems an eternity. When she comes to a stop, her arms lower to rest on her hips. "I know you've been watching," she calls into the night. She is quiet, so as not to wake the others, but he can hear amusement in her voice.
He steps through the circle of torches; smiles apologetically. Ilana holds out a hand. "Dance with me," she says.
Jacob hesitates. "I can't."
"You mean to tell me you're so bound to your rules you can't ever enjoy yourself?"
He slides his fingers over her palm. "I can't dance."
"Anyone can dance," Ilana says with a smirk. "I will teach you." She takes his other hand and places it at her waist. He steps closer, but not too close, he reminds himself. Her shirt has slid up from dancing, and his hand brushes bare skin.
Ilana leads and Jacob follows her movements, careful not to step on her toes. They turn in slow circles, but the world races about him dizzily.
Jacob's throat is dry as he gazes down at her, curls damp about her flushed face. He tries to convince himself that this is another game, this time with her sharing the instructions, but the idea rings in a hollow echo inside his skull.
He swallows. "Ilana," he whispers. This is wrong, he means to say, but she brings a finger to his lips.
"Don't speak," she quietly orders. "Dance is the language of the body." She presses against him, her body soft and warm. Jacob's hand moves to her back, pulling her close.
They dance together in the darkness, and their bodies say, I am bound by no rules.