Title: Unlikely Fantasy
Disclaimer: I own NADA.
Author's Note: Another very old piece. I recently remembered that I have a whole stash of fics that I never posted so I'm doing so now, one by one. Reviews, either complimentary or constructively critical, would be great. Hopefully, something will inspire me to start writing again.
Summary: "And then she appears. Like a blessing called upon from a wish." On the island, Hurley dreams about his one true love. Post-season 1. Twist ending. 200 word ficlet. Enjoy!
Heat, scolding, smothering.
The kind of temperature that makes most men gain an appetite, among other things, after laboring away surrounded by nothing but the scent of sweat.
And then she appears. Like a blessing called upon from a wish. Tawny, warm, and, most importantly, soft skin. Golden, silky hair. And inside – she's got a soul as chaste and white as an angel in heaven.
He goes to her, slowly, his heart pounding even more rapidly with every step he takes. He lunges toward her, so eager to consume – devour – her. And, God, it feels good. Oh..., he moans. He heads forward again, anxious to brush his lips against another part of her. Oh…, again, but muffled, more passionate.
Every breath he takes is accompanied by her fragrance, familiar, yet never dull. This, exhaling, is, panting now, amazing … staring intently at her, all he can murmur is: I wish this never ends –
"Whoa!" Hurley says, jumping up from the ground with a start.
"What's wrong, mate?" a nearby Charlie asks.
Blinking, Hurley confesses, "Dude … I'm kinda afraid to say, but is it just me or is there something seriously wrong when you have erotic-like fantasies about a Twinkie?"
Hurley: So, dude, what do you think's inside that hatch thing?
Locke: What do you think's inside it?
Hurley: Stacks of TV dinners from the '50s or something. And TVs ... with cable, some cell-phones, clean socks, soap, and Twinkies. You know, for dessert after the TV dinners. Twinkies keep for like eight thousand years, man.