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Entry tags:
RPF: Glamor, Glitter, Fashion and Fame, Rish
disclaimer: man. they are so not mine. or they would make out a lot on camera
rating: er, soft R? Hard PG13? Sexual situations, possibly some language and the word 'breasts'.
warnings: RPF, sex, alcohol
pairing: Katee Sackhoff/Tricia Helfer
notes: This was so totally supposed to be a drabble.
length: 1300+
glamor, glitter, fashion and fame
by ALC Punk!
There's an after-party--Tricia says there's always an after-party, and Katee figures they're both low enough on the list to not get an invite, but then remembers Tricia used to model, so she's a little higher on the list than Katee--Tricia hears this jumbled explanation and points out the critics and Bionic Woman and then they're both on equal footing again, which is ridiculous, because no one cares who crashes after-parties--
There's two or three or maybe four after-parties (Katee loses count after her fifth shot of something that she can't name). Everyone knows everyone else (pretends, at least, and Katee can do it, too), and there's lots of cheek-smooching, hugs, and general congratulations.
Everyone wants everyone to know that they did fabulous, darling, and even though they didn't win, there's always next year. But with that gleam in their eye that says they don't believe it anymore than you do.
Of course, when Tricia says it to Katee (after drink #2), she believes it. She says it right back to her, even though Tricia's off on a cable TV show and Katee's on a network cop show that could maybe die tomorrow.
Somewhere during the fourth party, they end up in the bathroom (it's someone's house, so it's huge and nice, and Katee jokes about swimming naked in the sunken tub), fighting over the sink because Katee spilled her drink (or someone bumped her arm, either excuse works), and Tricia's helping her clean the slick stain from the side of her gorgeous dress--which did get a lot of compliments, thank GOD, considering what she'd paid for it--
Tricia's at her back, one arm looped over her shoulder, trying to get the washcloth from Katee, and she says something in Katee's ear about blue looks good on you or maybe it's a request for the washcloth--Katee's lost a little time and coherency, due to the alcohol.
Thing is, Tricia's wearing red, and Katee's always loved red (and Tricia in red, which is a staple of her memories of Galactica), and even in the heels Katee bought, Tricia's still taller and she's not towering, but there's enough red and blue and pale and gold skin that Katee thinks up a stupid joke about patriotic flag colors and thinks better of it when Tricia's hand succeeds in snagging the washcloth.
Her thoughts are jumbled, which is why she misses Tricia's hand sliding inside her dress until she pinches her nipple.
Katee's pretty sure squeaking is totally allowed in a situation like this, and she stares at Tricia's grin in the mirror, and has to admit that the sudden thought of getting under Tricia's dress is kinda the capper on an excellent night.
"How drunk are we?" she asks, or thinks she asks as she shifts and Tricia shifts and then Tricia's in front of her, sitting on the edge of the sink and Katee's pushing at her dress, getting close enough to smell the dry scent of Tricia's perfume overlaying the taste of her skin.
"Not enough," is Tricia's reply and she's laughing a little as she bends her head and kisses Katee.
It's awkward, the sink making Tricia taller--
For some reason, that makes it ok to shamelessly shove the fluttery bits of Tricia's dress up her legs, palms pressing down against her warm skin.
Tricia makes an approving sound, and keeps kissing Katee, her hand coming up to stroke through her hair--
Which makes Katee jerk back, babbling about her hair, and how it took forever to fix just right, and--
Tricia's laughing again, "It's four in the morning, Katee, who's going to care--"
"I will--" she says, and then starts laughing, because it is ridiculous and funny and if her hair is going to stop Tricia kissing her, maybe she should stop caring about her hair. Which just makes her move back in and lick Tricia's shoulder, tasting skin and suntan oil and then Tricia's fingers are in her hair again.
This time, Katee doesn't object.
It's not a quickie, Katee convinces herself. They spend time kissing and making out, getting Tricia's lipstick all over Katee's neck and laughing together as they clean it up before Katee's hands brush up under Tricia's dress again.
Not that it matters. No one's going to come looking for them.
At least, probably not. And Katee doesn't really care if a party guest can't get into the bathroom when they've had too much to drink. She has Tricia Helfer, leaning back against a mirror, her dress up and her eyes closed while Katee's fingers worm their way inside her panties.
Katee's pretty damned sure there are a lot of people who'd pay to be where she is. She grins a little harder as she leans forward and kisses Tricia again, keeping her pinned there.
"Mmm," Katee says, giggling a little as she remembers what Tricia likes. She's rewarded by Tricia's little shifts when she hits the right spot. The way Tricia's legs tense and move, until they're wrapped around Katee (which might just be to keep Tricia from falling off the sink, Tricia's logical like that, even when she's drunk and squirming under Katee's fingers).
She remembers when it used to be less easy, when she would twist at the wrong moment, or press down and Tricia would make a soft little noise of frustration--
Katee made her own, too, until they'd showed each other, more than once (which had been so scorchingly hot, Katee'd had dreams for four nights running and couldn't look Tricia in the eye on-set without remembering her with her hand between her legs--which made it interesting since they were sharing too many scenes at the time).
Now they've both got it mostly figured out.
Tricia's hand closes on Katee's arm, her breath coming fast, "Slower," she gasps.
Slower, she can do. Less drunk than she was, Katee remembers slower, remembers biting her lip and trying not to attract attention, Tricia between her legs one afternoon they'd been running lines--
There's no fireworks when Tricia comes, just a sudden tension and then she's gasping and going limp, body pulsing around Katee's finger and against her thumb. Fireworks would be interesting, Katee thinks, half-hazy and maybe still drunker than she'd thought. Explosions to complement the rush of pleasure. Marking the occasion, as it were.
A giggle escapes Tricia, and Katee realizes she said that aloud.
She joins the laughter, then helps Tricia down from the sink and steadies her when her legs refuse to hold her up for a moment.
Which is the perfect time for some idiot to shove the door open and Katee thought she'd locked it. There's apologies and half-drunken laughter and then whoever it was is gone, probably not having noticed their appearance. Or not caring.
Or maybe it'll be all over the tabloids in the morning, complete with non-existent pictures.
Katee locks the door, this time, making sure.
"Guess after-parties don't suck," she says as Tricia turns her around and helps her out of her dress (Tricia's dress wrinkles, too, but they show less with the way it drapes). She moans a little when Tricia helpfully cups her breasts, rubbing against her nipples and skin.
"Nope."
And Tricia sets about proving her agreement.
They're both giggly and exhausted when they leave the bathroom, staggering back out into the crowd like the best of drunken friends. No flash-bulbs go off as they head for the door, so Katee figures Mr. I Don't Knock, Ever probably noticed nothing.
Someone does take a picture, later, and Katee gets a copy from some roundabout route that includes Ron, Trucco and the really cute FedEx guy. It's her and Tricia, giggly and falling over, leaning against each other. If the picture is looked at just right, you can almost see that Tricia's hand is on her ass. But it's something that has to be looked for, and no one really cares about two actors from some Canadian show...
-f-
rating: er, soft R? Hard PG13? Sexual situations, possibly some language and the word 'breasts'.
warnings: RPF, sex, alcohol
pairing: Katee Sackhoff/Tricia Helfer
notes: This was so totally supposed to be a drabble.
length: 1300+
glamor, glitter, fashion and fame
by ALC Punk!
There's an after-party--Tricia says there's always an after-party, and Katee figures they're both low enough on the list to not get an invite, but then remembers Tricia used to model, so she's a little higher on the list than Katee--Tricia hears this jumbled explanation and points out the critics and Bionic Woman and then they're both on equal footing again, which is ridiculous, because no one cares who crashes after-parties--
There's two or three or maybe four after-parties (Katee loses count after her fifth shot of something that she can't name). Everyone knows everyone else (pretends, at least, and Katee can do it, too), and there's lots of cheek-smooching, hugs, and general congratulations.
Everyone wants everyone to know that they did fabulous, darling, and even though they didn't win, there's always next year. But with that gleam in their eye that says they don't believe it anymore than you do.
Of course, when Tricia says it to Katee (after drink #2), she believes it. She says it right back to her, even though Tricia's off on a cable TV show and Katee's on a network cop show that could maybe die tomorrow.
Somewhere during the fourth party, they end up in the bathroom (it's someone's house, so it's huge and nice, and Katee jokes about swimming naked in the sunken tub), fighting over the sink because Katee spilled her drink (or someone bumped her arm, either excuse works), and Tricia's helping her clean the slick stain from the side of her gorgeous dress--which did get a lot of compliments, thank GOD, considering what she'd paid for it--
Tricia's at her back, one arm looped over her shoulder, trying to get the washcloth from Katee, and she says something in Katee's ear about blue looks good on you or maybe it's a request for the washcloth--Katee's lost a little time and coherency, due to the alcohol.
Thing is, Tricia's wearing red, and Katee's always loved red (and Tricia in red, which is a staple of her memories of Galactica), and even in the heels Katee bought, Tricia's still taller and she's not towering, but there's enough red and blue and pale and gold skin that Katee thinks up a stupid joke about patriotic flag colors and thinks better of it when Tricia's hand succeeds in snagging the washcloth.
Her thoughts are jumbled, which is why she misses Tricia's hand sliding inside her dress until she pinches her nipple.
Katee's pretty sure squeaking is totally allowed in a situation like this, and she stares at Tricia's grin in the mirror, and has to admit that the sudden thought of getting under Tricia's dress is kinda the capper on an excellent night.
"How drunk are we?" she asks, or thinks she asks as she shifts and Tricia shifts and then Tricia's in front of her, sitting on the edge of the sink and Katee's pushing at her dress, getting close enough to smell the dry scent of Tricia's perfume overlaying the taste of her skin.
"Not enough," is Tricia's reply and she's laughing a little as she bends her head and kisses Katee.
It's awkward, the sink making Tricia taller--
For some reason, that makes it ok to shamelessly shove the fluttery bits of Tricia's dress up her legs, palms pressing down against her warm skin.
Tricia makes an approving sound, and keeps kissing Katee, her hand coming up to stroke through her hair--
Which makes Katee jerk back, babbling about her hair, and how it took forever to fix just right, and--
Tricia's laughing again, "It's four in the morning, Katee, who's going to care--"
"I will--" she says, and then starts laughing, because it is ridiculous and funny and if her hair is going to stop Tricia kissing her, maybe she should stop caring about her hair. Which just makes her move back in and lick Tricia's shoulder, tasting skin and suntan oil and then Tricia's fingers are in her hair again.
This time, Katee doesn't object.
It's not a quickie, Katee convinces herself. They spend time kissing and making out, getting Tricia's lipstick all over Katee's neck and laughing together as they clean it up before Katee's hands brush up under Tricia's dress again.
Not that it matters. No one's going to come looking for them.
At least, probably not. And Katee doesn't really care if a party guest can't get into the bathroom when they've had too much to drink. She has Tricia Helfer, leaning back against a mirror, her dress up and her eyes closed while Katee's fingers worm their way inside her panties.
Katee's pretty damned sure there are a lot of people who'd pay to be where she is. She grins a little harder as she leans forward and kisses Tricia again, keeping her pinned there.
"Mmm," Katee says, giggling a little as she remembers what Tricia likes. She's rewarded by Tricia's little shifts when she hits the right spot. The way Tricia's legs tense and move, until they're wrapped around Katee (which might just be to keep Tricia from falling off the sink, Tricia's logical like that, even when she's drunk and squirming under Katee's fingers).
She remembers when it used to be less easy, when she would twist at the wrong moment, or press down and Tricia would make a soft little noise of frustration--
Katee made her own, too, until they'd showed each other, more than once (which had been so scorchingly hot, Katee'd had dreams for four nights running and couldn't look Tricia in the eye on-set without remembering her with her hand between her legs--which made it interesting since they were sharing too many scenes at the time).
Now they've both got it mostly figured out.
Tricia's hand closes on Katee's arm, her breath coming fast, "Slower," she gasps.
Slower, she can do. Less drunk than she was, Katee remembers slower, remembers biting her lip and trying not to attract attention, Tricia between her legs one afternoon they'd been running lines--
There's no fireworks when Tricia comes, just a sudden tension and then she's gasping and going limp, body pulsing around Katee's finger and against her thumb. Fireworks would be interesting, Katee thinks, half-hazy and maybe still drunker than she'd thought. Explosions to complement the rush of pleasure. Marking the occasion, as it were.
A giggle escapes Tricia, and Katee realizes she said that aloud.
She joins the laughter, then helps Tricia down from the sink and steadies her when her legs refuse to hold her up for a moment.
Which is the perfect time for some idiot to shove the door open and Katee thought she'd locked it. There's apologies and half-drunken laughter and then whoever it was is gone, probably not having noticed their appearance. Or not caring.
Or maybe it'll be all over the tabloids in the morning, complete with non-existent pictures.
Katee locks the door, this time, making sure.
"Guess after-parties don't suck," she says as Tricia turns her around and helps her out of her dress (Tricia's dress wrinkles, too, but they show less with the way it drapes). She moans a little when Tricia helpfully cups her breasts, rubbing against her nipples and skin.
"Nope."
And Tricia sets about proving her agreement.
They're both giggly and exhausted when they leave the bathroom, staggering back out into the crowd like the best of drunken friends. No flash-bulbs go off as they head for the door, so Katee figures Mr. I Don't Knock, Ever probably noticed nothing.
Someone does take a picture, later, and Katee gets a copy from some roundabout route that includes Ron, Trucco and the really cute FedEx guy. It's her and Tricia, giggly and falling over, leaning against each other. If the picture is looked at just right, you can almost see that Tricia's hand is on her ass. But it's something that has to be looked for, and no one really cares about two actors from some Canadian show...
-f-
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I should SO not have read this right after getting back from church.
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Probably cause you totally would have too.
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Thank you!
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I... cannot say how much I love you. There are no words. This is awesome and flaily and Katee and Tricia are just perfect. WHILE PRACTICING THEIR LINES, THEY PRACTICE OTHER THINGS.
*dies*
Where is that picture?!
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I admit to playing on Tricia's height as I like tall people, but the blase-ness about being caught is because, well, I like to think that they wouldn't care.
I'm glad you enjoyed this. =)
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If that picture would ever appear, I would adore it.
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(Of course, in the Leoben sexpaint bit, she was fully naked.)
You are SO full of win.
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