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Entry tags:
fic: St: TNG, Not so Proper Order, porn, R
Disclaimer: not mine.
Fandoms: Star Trek: the Next Generation, newBSG (mentioned).
Pairings: Beverly Crusher/Jean-Luc Picard, Kara Thrace/Sam Anders (referenced, and is anyone surprised?)
Genre: PWP. Crossover.
Length: 1100
Rating: R. Porn.
Notes: This is all![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
weirdofromafar's fault, man. Mostly because we both agree that Kara and Sam would TRY to have sex on the bridge. Sigh.
Not so Proper Order
by ALC Punk!
This is entirely inappropriate--of course, the cause had been even more so (and Beverly would be giggling with Deanna for months about the look on the Captain's face when he came down for his morning watch and discovered Kara Thrace and Sam Anders draped across his chair--Data had been unable to explain how they'd convinced him to let them sit there, of course). Not that she's exactly caring, at the moment.
It's hard to care about things like being appropriate when Jean-Luc is on his knees, and she can see the star field out the window while his mouth--
He's not exactly bad at this, she admits, hand touching his neck to shift him a little. He mumbles an apology and the vibration makes her jump, teeth clamping down on her lip to remain silent.
Attracting the attention of the bridge officers just outside the door behind her would be bad.
Probably.
He'd been telling her about the discovery, and half-laughing, like he remembered being that young and sex-crazy. And Bev had mocked him, maybe a little too much. She'd realized a little too late that he'd taken it as a challenge. She'd gotten up to leave and he'd leaned over his desk, eyes on her as he whispered exactly what he thought he could do with her, right then and there.
Well. She never had been one to resist a challenge, especially when she really had nowhere else to go.
Maybe it was the calm, almost practical way he'd said it--like he thought she'd just laugh it off and walk out the door, and she'd needed to shock his complacency away. Possibly, she was also a little bit intrigued by the idea, and certainly of the opinion that having Jean-Luc kissing his way up her legs would be quite refreshing.
He hums again and she bites her lip harder, putting one hand flat on the desk as she leans back a little, changing the connection. Right there, she decides. He could stay right there, forever, and she would have no objections.
The orgasm creeps up on her a little too fast, and she knows the sound she makes isn't quiet, but she doesn't, right then, care.
Not when he's continuing, almost laughing against her skin and his hand is digging into her thigh and--
She wants him on his feet, leaning over her, so she can watch the stars over his shoulder and taste herself on his mouth. Beverly grabs at his shoulder, tugging and pulling. Jean-Luc stands, a little confused until she grabs his waistband and tugs.
"Oh," he says, very soft and then he obeys her glare. He barely has time to drop his pants and underwear before she's touching him, one hand on his hip to tug him closer.
It's like and un-like what they've done before. She can see the stars out his window, even as she leans back further, pulling him closer, her legs around him as he slides deep.
She can't help the moan that escapes, but she tries biting her lips again when he quickens the pace, obviously hurrying to forestall the next crisis that might come upon them. It would be a little difficult to run off to save the universe with his pants down, after all.
That mental image almost sends her into a fit of giggles.
Jean-Luc nips at her neck, teeth scraping just a little, and she loses track of her thoughts.
Now, she thinks, a second later. His hands are on her hips, tugging her closer to the edge and the angle changes (again), and he slides deeper. A sound gets caught in her throat and her back arches, unbalancing her. She falls backwards, half-laughing and only avoiding smacking into the data-pad she'd brought by twisting a little.
Her hands fist into the fabric of his uniform, and she spares a thought for how they're both going to look rumpled and sweaty after this is all over, and then stops caring.
This time, the orgasm isn't unnoticeable, and she bits the back of her wrist as she arches beneath him, pressing for more feeling, more of him, his weight settling down on her and the slick desktop beneath her ass.
"Beverly," he breathes against her neck, movements trying to stay steady.
Her eyes clear, she can see the stars still, sort of. Elbows back she pushes up and against him, mouth brushing his ear, "C'mon, Jean-Luc," she whispers.
There's no point in being sultry or demanding. She can feel him choose to let go an instant later, his lips closing on her neck. She spares a thought for the marks he'll leave, makes a note to wear one of her older uniforms, with the collar zipped all the way up, then decides she doesn't care.
Deanna is going to tease the hell out of her at their next yoga session, though.
Still on her elbows, Beverly considers all the incredibly dirty things she could say right now, and decides they a, wouldn't help the situation and b, don't encompass everything she's feeling right now, anyway.
The desk is cold and she's pretty sure she's stuck to it. "Jean-Luc," she murmurs, stroking his neck, "We should probably get back to work."
He grunts and slowly lifts up, hands to either side of her. He stops halfway, leaning down to kiss her gently. She smiles beneath his mouth, kissing him back almost lazily. He slowly slides free of her, backing away from his desk to drop into his chair and just look at her.
Beverly shifts, and her ass is stuck to the desk for a moment before she grimaces and unsticks herself. Her hips feel stretched and there's a bruises on one elbow that's going to start hurting soon. Probably. But it's a good ache, and even though she doesn't trust her legs, she slowly climbs off and stands.
"This was a flagrant misuse of my desk," Jean-Luc murmurs as she digs a cloth from one of the lower drawers and starts cleaning herself.
A laugh escapes her and she glances at him, "You weren't objecting at the time, I seem to recall."
"Indeed not." He reached out a hand, stroking her hip while he almost smirks at her. There's something tentative in his gaze, though--perhaps he's not quite certain what to make of this, or he's checking that she's all right with it.
"Jean-Luc," says Beverly, folding the cloth carefully before setting it on his desk and looking around for her underwear, "Where did my bra go?"
-f-
Fandoms: Star Trek: the Next Generation, newBSG (mentioned).
Pairings: Beverly Crusher/Jean-Luc Picard, Kara Thrace/Sam Anders (referenced, and is anyone surprised?)
Genre: PWP. Crossover.
Length: 1100
Rating: R. Porn.
Notes: This is all
weirdofromafar's fault, man. Mostly because we both agree that Kara and Sam would TRY to have sex on the bridge. Sigh.Not so Proper Order
by ALC Punk!
This is entirely inappropriate--of course, the cause had been even more so (and Beverly would be giggling with Deanna for months about the look on the Captain's face when he came down for his morning watch and discovered Kara Thrace and Sam Anders draped across his chair--Data had been unable to explain how they'd convinced him to let them sit there, of course). Not that she's exactly caring, at the moment.
It's hard to care about things like being appropriate when Jean-Luc is on his knees, and she can see the star field out the window while his mouth--
He's not exactly bad at this, she admits, hand touching his neck to shift him a little. He mumbles an apology and the vibration makes her jump, teeth clamping down on her lip to remain silent.
Attracting the attention of the bridge officers just outside the door behind her would be bad.
Probably.
He'd been telling her about the discovery, and half-laughing, like he remembered being that young and sex-crazy. And Bev had mocked him, maybe a little too much. She'd realized a little too late that he'd taken it as a challenge. She'd gotten up to leave and he'd leaned over his desk, eyes on her as he whispered exactly what he thought he could do with her, right then and there.
Well. She never had been one to resist a challenge, especially when she really had nowhere else to go.
Maybe it was the calm, almost practical way he'd said it--like he thought she'd just laugh it off and walk out the door, and she'd needed to shock his complacency away. Possibly, she was also a little bit intrigued by the idea, and certainly of the opinion that having Jean-Luc kissing his way up her legs would be quite refreshing.
He hums again and she bites her lip harder, putting one hand flat on the desk as she leans back a little, changing the connection. Right there, she decides. He could stay right there, forever, and she would have no objections.
The orgasm creeps up on her a little too fast, and she knows the sound she makes isn't quiet, but she doesn't, right then, care.
Not when he's continuing, almost laughing against her skin and his hand is digging into her thigh and--
She wants him on his feet, leaning over her, so she can watch the stars over his shoulder and taste herself on his mouth. Beverly grabs at his shoulder, tugging and pulling. Jean-Luc stands, a little confused until she grabs his waistband and tugs.
"Oh," he says, very soft and then he obeys her glare. He barely has time to drop his pants and underwear before she's touching him, one hand on his hip to tug him closer.
It's like and un-like what they've done before. She can see the stars out his window, even as she leans back further, pulling him closer, her legs around him as he slides deep.
She can't help the moan that escapes, but she tries biting her lips again when he quickens the pace, obviously hurrying to forestall the next crisis that might come upon them. It would be a little difficult to run off to save the universe with his pants down, after all.
That mental image almost sends her into a fit of giggles.
Jean-Luc nips at her neck, teeth scraping just a little, and she loses track of her thoughts.
Now, she thinks, a second later. His hands are on her hips, tugging her closer to the edge and the angle changes (again), and he slides deeper. A sound gets caught in her throat and her back arches, unbalancing her. She falls backwards, half-laughing and only avoiding smacking into the data-pad she'd brought by twisting a little.
Her hands fist into the fabric of his uniform, and she spares a thought for how they're both going to look rumpled and sweaty after this is all over, and then stops caring.
This time, the orgasm isn't unnoticeable, and she bits the back of her wrist as she arches beneath him, pressing for more feeling, more of him, his weight settling down on her and the slick desktop beneath her ass.
"Beverly," he breathes against her neck, movements trying to stay steady.
Her eyes clear, she can see the stars still, sort of. Elbows back she pushes up and against him, mouth brushing his ear, "C'mon, Jean-Luc," she whispers.
There's no point in being sultry or demanding. She can feel him choose to let go an instant later, his lips closing on her neck. She spares a thought for the marks he'll leave, makes a note to wear one of her older uniforms, with the collar zipped all the way up, then decides she doesn't care.
Deanna is going to tease the hell out of her at their next yoga session, though.
Still on her elbows, Beverly considers all the incredibly dirty things she could say right now, and decides they a, wouldn't help the situation and b, don't encompass everything she's feeling right now, anyway.
The desk is cold and she's pretty sure she's stuck to it. "Jean-Luc," she murmurs, stroking his neck, "We should probably get back to work."
He grunts and slowly lifts up, hands to either side of her. He stops halfway, leaning down to kiss her gently. She smiles beneath his mouth, kissing him back almost lazily. He slowly slides free of her, backing away from his desk to drop into his chair and just look at her.
Beverly shifts, and her ass is stuck to the desk for a moment before she grimaces and unsticks herself. Her hips feel stretched and there's a bruises on one elbow that's going to start hurting soon. Probably. But it's a good ache, and even though she doesn't trust her legs, she slowly climbs off and stands.
"This was a flagrant misuse of my desk," Jean-Luc murmurs as she digs a cloth from one of the lower drawers and starts cleaning herself.
A laugh escapes her and she glances at him, "You weren't objecting at the time, I seem to recall."
"Indeed not." He reached out a hand, stroking her hip while he almost smirks at her. There's something tentative in his gaze, though--perhaps he's not quite certain what to make of this, or he's checking that she's all right with it.
"Jean-Luc," says Beverly, folding the cloth carefully before setting it on his desk and looking around for her underwear, "Where did my bra go?"
-f-
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Even if I'm still disturbed I wrote porn.
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Man. I'm wondering how to get Kara thrown in the brig, just so Sam can stand on the other side of the forcefield and make pointed remarks.
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Re: Late as usual