Title: The Comforter
Pair: Jack/Juliet
Prompt: Scrapes And Bruises
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own Lost or its characters

She started with the bruise over his eye. Her kiss, feather light so as not to hurt him. His thick lashes fluttered over her skin as his eyelids came to a close.

Then to the scrape on the side of his face, two deep red lines begging for her healing. Her lips barely touched before she grew bold, the tip of her tongue coming out to follow the scratches, licking them as if they were roads on a map leading home.

He winced, his hands coming out to cup her face, her skin flush and warm to his touch. She pulled them away and carefully eased them back to the sides of his beaten body.

Next she paid detail attention to his mouth. She traced its outline, curved up slightly at the corners with mild amusement at her attentions. The split lip was slightly swollen as she put her mouth over it, sucking the dried blood from it. He took a sharp intake of breath as she settled her weight over him.

"Don't worry," she whispered into his ear before noticing more bruising. She touched it, caressed the blue, purple along his jaw line tenderly. "I'll be gentle," she purred.

He let out a little cry of pain as she slid his shirt over his head. He never realized just how much work it would be to lift his arms.

"It's okay now. You can lie back," she reassured him, guiding him down, her hand cradling his head to be sure he wouldn't hurt himself. Safely nestled between his makeshift pillows, she proceeded to undress him. Sliding his pants over his tired legs, her hair tickling his thighs as she slid back up to inspect him.

Purple and green our colours she'll never like again as they cover his skin, the sides of his ribs, the expanse of his chest. He breathes in and out, sharp little gasps as she buried her head in his furry chest, wanting to tug the hair playfully but she didn't.

She took his hand instead, and placed it on her face to catch her tears. He slid his thumb over her chiseled features. Even now he was the comforter, drying her wet eyes, his scraped knuckles sliding over her trembling lips.

"It's okay," he said, "I'm okay."

She kissed them, every last pink and red knuckle, flesh exposed from fighting. From protecting.

He closed his eyes again as she straddled him. She needed this, needed to feel him hard and strong. Inside her. He needed it too. To feel her flesh open and wanting. To know he was the one, no other, no one else could make her cum.

"Jack," she cried riding him fast but carefully so as not to come down too hard on his battered body.

His fingers tangled in her blonde hair, he pulled her to him, too caught up in their moment, their pleasure, to feel the pain his body would scream at him later.

"Juliet," he sighed into her shoulder, "Juliet."