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Entry tags:
rpf: Sundresses are hazardous to your health, R, Katee/Trucco
disclaimer: they so do not belong to me, even if these versions are not the real ones. y'know.
fandom: bsg rpf
pairing: Katee Sackhoff/Michael Trucco
rating: R, sex, het, a little language
notes: I... I blame many people. sigh. And the Mike's. Also. I wrote half of this at work. And I think this is my favoritest opening line EVER. It's probably a little rough because I'm going to bed.
Yes, I know. RPF is bad. And all that.
Sundresses are Hazardous to Your Health
by ALC Punk!
"Were you answering the question with one hand on your dick?"
Katee's so sweet and girly, it's sometimes hard to remember she has a mouth like a marine when she wants to. Michael looks up from the script he's sorting through and blinks as she invades the trailer he'd borrowed from Tricia with her presence. "What?" She's wearing a flowery sundress, blue with yellow flowers or green things. He's not too clear on the color, because it's Katee, in a dress which billows and shifts and shows off her legs.
"This--" she throws a TV Guide at him, the slick magazine sliding off his lap before he can pick it up.
The movement distracts him from thinking about her legs. Which is probably for the best. Scoping out the cover, he blinks, "Hey, look, there's another shocking reveal on--"
"Michael." There's a dangerous note in her tone.
The kind of note that says, if he pushes just a little bit more, he might be in fear for his life. So he relents. Sorta. "Hrm..." He flips through the magazine, letting the script slide off his lap.
It's easy to find the right page, and he stares at the photo a lot longer than he should before noticing that the quote he gave is plastered next to her. He grins like an idiot. "I thought they weren't gonna use that."
"You'd be wrong." Katee grabs it and starts reading, lips mouthing the words silently until she stops and snickers, "You owe your job to me, huh? To our awesome chemistry?"
"Yep." Picking up his script, he resolves to ignore her (it's Katee, so he knows he won't, but he's making the effort) and continue marking his scenes for the read-through in two days.
"Hrm."
"Yeah?" He asks, like he's totally absorbed.
She nudges his knees and then climbs onto the couch, straddling him. "I think you should work off some of your debt," she murmurs, legs pressed up against his. Her flowery dress is spread over his lap, draping both their legs.
When she wriggles and catches herself with her hands on his shoulders, he grabs her hips to steady her. Michael's pretty sure his breath freezes when his palms press in against the material. It's a matter of what he can feel, or rather, can't feel. "Are you not--?"
Katee smirks, wriggling again and making her dress ride up a little more before she leans in and brushes his lips with hers, "Care to find out?"
He swallows against the sudden heat flashing through him. God. He knows she isn't. Can feel the lack of 'em under his palms on her hips, unless she's wearing some ridiculous new style of underwear. Not that it matters. It's Katee, and just the suggestion that she's gone commando is making him half-hard.
"I suppose so. After all," his voice is already husky with desire, and if she moves further up his lap, she'll own him, "I do owe you. For this job."
"Damn right."
"You do this often?" He asks, toying with the fabric of the dress. He's not sure if he can handle the answer, but he's willing to try.
A snicker escapes her. "Michael, honey, you sure you wanna know that I go commando in my flight suit?"
He groans and tightens his grip, lifting her up as he turns. She moves with him until they're sitting sideways on the couch. He kisses her mouth, sucking at her lower lip until she shoves at his shoulder, impatient. Dropping flat, he lets her lean down to help him get a pillow under his head.
"Are you sure--" she stops, looking uncertain for a moment.
It takes him a minute of thinking through the fog to realize she must be worried about his neck. Fuck. He doesn't care about his neck right now, though he's sure a doctor, somewhere, is yelping. "Very. Now get your ass up here. I'd like to work on some of my debt."
She's giggling, but she complies.
With his hands on her hips, she settles, hovering just a little like she's still unsure. He smiles a little and brushes feather-light kisses against the skin of her thighs, head shifting back and forth until he gets impatient with playing and pulls her down against his mouth.
Michael doesn't kid himself. He's not awesome at oral sex, and Katee once told him (while she was drunk and listing all over him at some nameless bar) that he sucked at it, but his enthusiasm for the process sorta made up for it. Since then, he thinks he's been improving (he always gets her off, at least), but he's certainly not some champion.
But he can sort of make it work, and he knows the right spots to hit now and most of the amounts of pressure. And when she's making those little breathy moans above him and grinding down, he figures he's got most of it right.
And that might be all that counts.
When Katee's flopped sideways against the back of the couch and coming down from her orgasm, he wriggles free just enough to be able to talk.
"You hated the quote."
"No." She flaps a hand, "I loved the quote."
"But..."
"I just think you're an idiot." A giggle escapes her and she climbs backwards, like she's got her second wind. Her hand slides into his cutoffs and she smirks, "A big idiot."
Groaning, he thrusts up into her hand. "I'm an idiot, huh? 'Cause I say nice things that make you wanna fuck me?"
"Mmm." Katee considers this while she pulls him free, stroking her fingers around the head of his erection before she shakes her head, "Sorry, Michael, you're not that smart."
He grabs for her hips, pulling her off-balance so she has to catch herself against his chest. Pushing up, he kisses her, one hand coming up to tangle in her too-long-for-Starbuck hair, "I'm not, huh?" he whispers against her lips.
Katee kisses him back, tongue sliding into his mouth while her hips drop lower and she slides against him.
Distantly, he hears the trailer door swing open and Tricia's voice saying something before it breaks off as she actually pays attention to what's going on in her trailer.
Katee's mouth pulls from his and she sits up, her dress covering his opened pants. "Ah, we were, ah..."
"Reading from the script," Michael offers, although it's lamer than lame.
"Uh-huh," Tricia is snickering at them both, "You know, if I weren't busy..." she doesn't complete her sentence as she brushes past the couch to rummage in the desk on that side of the room, "But I've got to get back on-set. James and I have ten scenes to read-through."
"Have fun with Dr. Loony," Katee replies cheerfully.
Michael decides saying anything will get him in trouble, so he keeps his mouth shut.
"Oh, it's such a pity I can't find my camera," mutters Tricia as she swings past them. "Could you two try to clean up after yourselves this time?"
"We're just breaking in the couch, Trish." Giggling, Katee leans down to kiss him as the door swings closed on Tricia's snort of disbelief.
Not exactly perturbed (and he'll never tell her that he wouldn't have been averse to Tricia joining them for fear she'll kill him), Michael kisses her back, hand cupping the side of her face.
"We should clean..." he mumbles a few minutes later.
Stopping in mid-movement, Katee stares at him. "Now? You want to clean now?"
"No--" Michael grabs her hips, thrusting up again, "Not now. Later."
Much later. When his brain is working again and Katee isn't pulling her dress up over his head so he can reach up and cup her breasts. Damn, he loves her breasts.
Lucky he hadn't said that when they'd interviewed him.
-f-
fandom: bsg rpf
pairing: Katee Sackhoff/Michael Trucco
rating: R, sex, het, a little language
notes: I... I blame many people. sigh. And the Mike's. Also. I wrote half of this at work. And I think this is my favoritest opening line EVER. It's probably a little rough because I'm going to bed.
Yes, I know. RPF is bad. And all that.
Sundresses are Hazardous to Your Health
by ALC Punk!
"Were you answering the question with one hand on your dick?"
Katee's so sweet and girly, it's sometimes hard to remember she has a mouth like a marine when she wants to. Michael looks up from the script he's sorting through and blinks as she invades the trailer he'd borrowed from Tricia with her presence. "What?" She's wearing a flowery sundress, blue with yellow flowers or green things. He's not too clear on the color, because it's Katee, in a dress which billows and shifts and shows off her legs.
"This--" she throws a TV Guide at him, the slick magazine sliding off his lap before he can pick it up.
The movement distracts him from thinking about her legs. Which is probably for the best. Scoping out the cover, he blinks, "Hey, look, there's another shocking reveal on--"
"Michael." There's a dangerous note in her tone.
The kind of note that says, if he pushes just a little bit more, he might be in fear for his life. So he relents. Sorta. "Hrm..." He flips through the magazine, letting the script slide off his lap.
It's easy to find the right page, and he stares at the photo a lot longer than he should before noticing that the quote he gave is plastered next to her. He grins like an idiot. "I thought they weren't gonna use that."
"You'd be wrong." Katee grabs it and starts reading, lips mouthing the words silently until she stops and snickers, "You owe your job to me, huh? To our awesome chemistry?"
"Yep." Picking up his script, he resolves to ignore her (it's Katee, so he knows he won't, but he's making the effort) and continue marking his scenes for the read-through in two days.
"Hrm."
"Yeah?" He asks, like he's totally absorbed.
She nudges his knees and then climbs onto the couch, straddling him. "I think you should work off some of your debt," she murmurs, legs pressed up against his. Her flowery dress is spread over his lap, draping both their legs.
When she wriggles and catches herself with her hands on his shoulders, he grabs her hips to steady her. Michael's pretty sure his breath freezes when his palms press in against the material. It's a matter of what he can feel, or rather, can't feel. "Are you not--?"
Katee smirks, wriggling again and making her dress ride up a little more before she leans in and brushes his lips with hers, "Care to find out?"
He swallows against the sudden heat flashing through him. God. He knows she isn't. Can feel the lack of 'em under his palms on her hips, unless she's wearing some ridiculous new style of underwear. Not that it matters. It's Katee, and just the suggestion that she's gone commando is making him half-hard.
"I suppose so. After all," his voice is already husky with desire, and if she moves further up his lap, she'll own him, "I do owe you. For this job."
"Damn right."
"You do this often?" He asks, toying with the fabric of the dress. He's not sure if he can handle the answer, but he's willing to try.
A snicker escapes her. "Michael, honey, you sure you wanna know that I go commando in my flight suit?"
He groans and tightens his grip, lifting her up as he turns. She moves with him until they're sitting sideways on the couch. He kisses her mouth, sucking at her lower lip until she shoves at his shoulder, impatient. Dropping flat, he lets her lean down to help him get a pillow under his head.
"Are you sure--" she stops, looking uncertain for a moment.
It takes him a minute of thinking through the fog to realize she must be worried about his neck. Fuck. He doesn't care about his neck right now, though he's sure a doctor, somewhere, is yelping. "Very. Now get your ass up here. I'd like to work on some of my debt."
She's giggling, but she complies.
With his hands on her hips, she settles, hovering just a little like she's still unsure. He smiles a little and brushes feather-light kisses against the skin of her thighs, head shifting back and forth until he gets impatient with playing and pulls her down against his mouth.
Michael doesn't kid himself. He's not awesome at oral sex, and Katee once told him (while she was drunk and listing all over him at some nameless bar) that he sucked at it, but his enthusiasm for the process sorta made up for it. Since then, he thinks he's been improving (he always gets her off, at least), but he's certainly not some champion.
But he can sort of make it work, and he knows the right spots to hit now and most of the amounts of pressure. And when she's making those little breathy moans above him and grinding down, he figures he's got most of it right.
And that might be all that counts.
When Katee's flopped sideways against the back of the couch and coming down from her orgasm, he wriggles free just enough to be able to talk.
"You hated the quote."
"No." She flaps a hand, "I loved the quote."
"But..."
"I just think you're an idiot." A giggle escapes her and she climbs backwards, like she's got her second wind. Her hand slides into his cutoffs and she smirks, "A big idiot."
Groaning, he thrusts up into her hand. "I'm an idiot, huh? 'Cause I say nice things that make you wanna fuck me?"
"Mmm." Katee considers this while she pulls him free, stroking her fingers around the head of his erection before she shakes her head, "Sorry, Michael, you're not that smart."
He grabs for her hips, pulling her off-balance so she has to catch herself against his chest. Pushing up, he kisses her, one hand coming up to tangle in her too-long-for-Starbuck hair, "I'm not, huh?" he whispers against her lips.
Katee kisses him back, tongue sliding into his mouth while her hips drop lower and she slides against him.
Distantly, he hears the trailer door swing open and Tricia's voice saying something before it breaks off as she actually pays attention to what's going on in her trailer.
Katee's mouth pulls from his and she sits up, her dress covering his opened pants. "Ah, we were, ah..."
"Reading from the script," Michael offers, although it's lamer than lame.
"Uh-huh," Tricia is snickering at them both, "You know, if I weren't busy..." she doesn't complete her sentence as she brushes past the couch to rummage in the desk on that side of the room, "But I've got to get back on-set. James and I have ten scenes to read-through."
"Have fun with Dr. Loony," Katee replies cheerfully.
Michael decides saying anything will get him in trouble, so he keeps his mouth shut.
"Oh, it's such a pity I can't find my camera," mutters Tricia as she swings past them. "Could you two try to clean up after yourselves this time?"
"We're just breaking in the couch, Trish." Giggling, Katee leans down to kiss him as the door swings closed on Tricia's snort of disbelief.
Not exactly perturbed (and he'll never tell her that he wouldn't have been averse to Tricia joining them for fear she'll kill him), Michael kisses her back, hand cupping the side of her face.
"We should clean..." he mumbles a few minutes later.
Stopping in mid-movement, Katee stares at him. "Now? You want to clean now?"
"No--" Michael grabs her hips, thrusting up again, "Not now. Later."
Much later. When his brain is working again and Katee isn't pulling her dress up over his head so he can reach up and cup her breasts. Damn, he loves her breasts.
Lucky he hadn't said that when they'd interviewed him.
-f-