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Entry tags:
fic: rpf, bsgfemslashot3....
So, Fslash today is having another porn battle--technically, they're still taking prompts until Wednesday night. And being the good little (sly) rpf fan that I am, I was doing up Tricia/Katee/Grace prompts and ended up getting inspired. So. Um. Yeah.
Fandom: BSG RPF
Pairing Trio: Grace Park/Tricia Helfer/Katee Sackhoff
Genre: femslash, orgy, pwp
Rating: R. Sex between girls, people. But not particularly explicit (this is what your imaginations are for).
Notes: the title is in reference to ACDC by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts.
Joan Jett was Half-right...
by ALC Punk!
You wouldn't know it from her reputation, but Katee smells like baby powder. Grace could tell people that, and make a fortune if she explained how she knows. It's like she knows that Tricia is lavender and honest sweat backed by the cleanser they use to take her face off. Little things, adding up to bigger things--like the way Katee's tongue feels when it's trailing up the back of Grace's leg when Tricia's mouth is just under the spot on her neck that makes her want to slip her own hand between her legs.
Katee's mouth tastes like the lime from the last tequila shot she did, and Grace lets her tongue steal the sweet-sour mixture before turning back to Tricia, hands unconsciously clenching as Tricia's fingers twist just so--
When she comes down, Katee's laughing at how easy she is and Tricia's falling sideways on the bed, reaching over for the tequila--Grace moves her mouth to Tricia's back, tasting the lavender and sweat, teeth grazing the line of Tricia's hip while Katee gives approving commentary that breaks off because Tricia smacks at her.
The tequila bottle is eventually back within easy reach, and Grace takes a hit without bothering with the salt and lime.
In her sprawled state, Katee is mocking and jealous, not having gotten off yet. Grace considers how she pretends to be so bad-ass when she really isn't--one finger inside of her, thumb on her clit, and Katee is putty in anyone's hands. Grace kisses her, grinning at Katee's muffled complaints about the harshness of the uncut tequila.
Then Katee's giggling because Tricia's mouth is on the wrong spot--or the right spot.
Doesn't matter.
Eventually, Katee's mouth will be between her legs and Grace won't be thinking of anything anymore. Not about Tricia's nails scraping gently down her skin, nor the burn of the tequila at the back of her throat. She'll just be feeling like she's falling forever.
And when she comes down, it'll be Tricia's turn again, elegant legs stretched wide, fingers clenching in Grace's hair as she murmurs words neither of them ever thought she'd know.
Grace knows all of this, just like she knows that Katee will get herself off, watching the two of them and then fall asleep. She and Tricia will follow her, sweat-sticky bodies trying not to touch each other until there's no point and they drop into dreams, tangled with each other and Katee.
In the morning will be hangovers, puking, painkillers and orange juice. Quickly followed by a shower and a lack of discussion. They'll return to their normal lives and Grace will find the half-finished bottle of tequila tipped sideways, the cap on one night when she's searching under her bed for her sandals. Inevitably, she'll find the phone, her lips tingling with salt and lime, the scent from the bottle more than enough for her to dial Tricia's number by heart.
Tricia always calls Katee, as though there's something intimate and wrong about just the two of them getting together. Not that Grace objects--she's come to count on it. She likes the scent of baby powder, after all.
-f
Fandom: BSG RPF
Genre: femslash, orgy, pwp
Rating: R. Sex between girls, people. But not particularly explicit (this is what your imaginations are for).
Notes: the title is in reference to ACDC by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts.
Joan Jett was Half-right...
by ALC Punk!
You wouldn't know it from her reputation, but Katee smells like baby powder. Grace could tell people that, and make a fortune if she explained how she knows. It's like she knows that Tricia is lavender and honest sweat backed by the cleanser they use to take her face off. Little things, adding up to bigger things--like the way Katee's tongue feels when it's trailing up the back of Grace's leg when Tricia's mouth is just under the spot on her neck that makes her want to slip her own hand between her legs.
Katee's mouth tastes like the lime from the last tequila shot she did, and Grace lets her tongue steal the sweet-sour mixture before turning back to Tricia, hands unconsciously clenching as Tricia's fingers twist just so--
When she comes down, Katee's laughing at how easy she is and Tricia's falling sideways on the bed, reaching over for the tequila--Grace moves her mouth to Tricia's back, tasting the lavender and sweat, teeth grazing the line of Tricia's hip while Katee gives approving commentary that breaks off because Tricia smacks at her.
The tequila bottle is eventually back within easy reach, and Grace takes a hit without bothering with the salt and lime.
In her sprawled state, Katee is mocking and jealous, not having gotten off yet. Grace considers how she pretends to be so bad-ass when she really isn't--one finger inside of her, thumb on her clit, and Katee is putty in anyone's hands. Grace kisses her, grinning at Katee's muffled complaints about the harshness of the uncut tequila.
Then Katee's giggling because Tricia's mouth is on the wrong spot--or the right spot.
Doesn't matter.
Eventually, Katee's mouth will be between her legs and Grace won't be thinking of anything anymore. Not about Tricia's nails scraping gently down her skin, nor the burn of the tequila at the back of her throat. She'll just be feeling like she's falling forever.
And when she comes down, it'll be Tricia's turn again, elegant legs stretched wide, fingers clenching in Grace's hair as she murmurs words neither of them ever thought she'd know.
Grace knows all of this, just like she knows that Katee will get herself off, watching the two of them and then fall asleep. She and Tricia will follow her, sweat-sticky bodies trying not to touch each other until there's no point and they drop into dreams, tangled with each other and Katee.
In the morning will be hangovers, puking, painkillers and orange juice. Quickly followed by a shower and a lack of discussion. They'll return to their normal lives and Grace will find the half-finished bottle of tequila tipped sideways, the cap on one night when she's searching under her bed for her sandals. Inevitably, she'll find the phone, her lips tingling with salt and lime, the scent from the bottle more than enough for her to dial Tricia's number by heart.
Tricia always calls Katee, as though there's something intimate and wrong about just the two of them getting together. Not that Grace objects--she's come to count on it. She likes the scent of baby powder, after all.
-f