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Entry tags:
fic: bsg, Temporary Relief of Tension, R, Cally/Hotdog
disclaimer: not mine
rating: R, sex, language, innuendo, naughty bits
pairing: Cally Henderson/Brendan Costanza
set: during the end of season 2/LDYB
spoilers: well. It's based on something mentioned in 4.13
notes: wtf. I do not know why I wrote Cally/Hotdog, but I did. I think I sort of maybe blame![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
prolix_allie.
Temporary Relief of Tension
by ALC Punk!
Cally thinks it's Kara Thrace's fault, that she's sitting on Hotdog's lap, laughing at insanely stupid jokes, and betting pretzels against crackers in a game of high-stakes triad. It's not the sort of thing a sweet little deckhand should be doing, but Seelix is to her right and that guy who replaced Jammer is at a separate table, getting his ass handed to him by Starbuck.
The pilot had come dashing through the deck earlier, chased by Sam Anders. They'd fetched up against a viper, making out like teenagers with a total lack of understanding of the words 'get a room'.
It isn't like anyone could blame them. Starbuck had pulled off a frakking miracle, rescuing his ass from Caprica. Some of that was over-shadowed by New Caprica, of course. And President Baltar's executive order.
Cally isn't sure whether to be happy or sad that she's military and can't be forced to go down to that rock (unless Baltar starts trying to disband the military, though no one believes he'll get off his lazy ass to do such a stupid thing with the Cylons still out there, somewhere).
But all that is neither here nor there. She's sitting on Brendan Costanza's lap, laughing at his stupid jokes, and sometimes wiggling just a little--Cally never expected that sort of move to produce a result, but after a while, Hotdog's hands are on her hips, holding her still.
He's drunk, too, and inarticulate, so he's having a hard time simply asking her to not move, Gods, Cally.
So she keeps doing it, and she keeps laughing, and when she loses for time number ten billion (losing count is allowable, in this mental shape), she just turns to him and kisses him.
Her jaw aches a little from the wierd angle and she moves mouth shifting to compensate so she's not straining muscles.
It's a shock when she realizes he's not pulling back. And then his hands are cupping her face, so gently she feels stone cold sober.
Cheering from the table pulls her mouth from his, and Cally tries for a crazy grin as she turns away, "Thought I'd get some luck--"
"Don't think Hotdog's lips'll help," Seelix jokes. She deals again.
This time Cally wins, though. And she celebrates by kissing Brendan again. She decides she can't think of him as Hotdog with her lips on his, which is the sort of fuzzy logic she'd expect from Kara Thrace.
It's not Kara Thrace who staggers back to quarters a little while later, Brendan following her like a boyfriend sneaking in through her bedroom window (the thought that bedrooms and windows are sort of a concept in the distant past doesn't even cross her mind). They're both nervous as she checks for others, but it's his boots they leave outside the room.
Cally lets him kiss her again, just inside the hatchway, and he's gentle and urgent both in a way that makes her head spin.
"We're drunk," he mumbles as she pulls him further in, fingers pulling at his tanks, plucking the fabric off of his skin so her palms can slide up the front of him.
"Yeah," she murmurs against his mouth, "we are." She kisses him harder, trying to blot out the logical part of her brain that is screaming that this is stupid. It's not the first time she's kissed someone with the intention of more. It's just been a while--she blots out the reason for that, determined not to care.
"We should, we should stop," he says. But he's not stopping, hands brushing over her face and neck, shoulders and arms.
Cally makes an impatient noise and pulls back to yank her tanks up and off. "You can leave if you want," she suggests, pretty sure her insolent tone is straight from Starbuck.
There's a moment where he looks at her, eyes wide and dark. Then he's moving, hands catching her waist, palms pressing in as he strokes them upwards, fingers sliding around to her bare back and catching up under her bra strap.
When her arms raise over her head, she's pretty sure she's daring him to continue.
He does, flicking the bra somewhere and bending his head to kiss her shoulder as his hands stroke back down her arms and then move to cup her breasts.
Sensation floods her, the feel of his hands on her making her skin heat. She pushes her fingers into his hair and turns his mouth up, kissing him fiercely as his hands slowly learn every inch of her skin, coming back to stroke her breasts, thumbs pressing at her hardening nipples.
Brendan fumbles with the jumpsuit covering her legs, not seeming to realize how to push it off of her until she does it for him, letting it drop to the floor.
Stepping back gets her feet tangled in the damned thing and it's only Brendan's arms around her that keep them both from tumbling to the deck. "Frak--" she swears, pulling free of him and hopping as she tries not to fall over as she bends down to untie her boots.
"I got--"
His head collides with her shoulder and they both swear, Cally breaking into giggles when he makes an impatient noise and picks her up, setting her on the edge of the table so he can work on her laces.
"Don't take all night, Hotdog," she growls, "It's a little cold up here."
Sitting on his heels, he looks up at her and grins, "Think I can solve that."
Kicking out, just barely missing him, she giggles, "Gods, I hope so." She thinks she sounds like a ridiculously young teenager, but doesn't care.
Brendan's hands slide up her legs, making her shift and squirm, though he continues to stand and skims right past her thighs.
Reaching out, she hauls on his shirts, "Someone's over-dressed."
Laughing, he pulls them off and starts working on his pants, eyes on her, like he's thinking about putting on a show.
Deciding to hurry him along, Cally cups her own breasts, lightly pinching her nipples. She practically falls of the table, howling with laughter at the shock and awe that cross Brendan's face before his hands work faster, leaving his clothes in a heap.
He doesn't trip as he moves back to the table, sliding between her legs.
Naked. Cally likes naked, and she stretches, pressing up against him and kissing his mouth and neck, hands playing with the back of his hair while he tries to decide what to do with his hands, and her.
"Bed, Costanza," she suggests, licking his shoulder.
He's already hard--frak, he's a guy, and she's been feeling evidence of that for hours. Cally has to wonder if he knows how much fun she had teasing him all night (she hadn't started out intending to). "Bed, I can do," he murmurs, kissing her mouth again.
"You first."
He raises his eyebrows, but moves to sit on the edge of a rack, looking at her. "Are you sure--?"
With a smirk, Cally hops off the table, sauntering over to him. She leans down, "This isn't my first time," she says, feeling almost scornful at the surprise in his eyes. She laughs a little, hands careful as she fondles him a little, enjoying the way his hips twitch. "Starbuck's right, you guys are all idiots."
"Cally--"
"Shhh." Her mouth covers his as she pushes him back, climbing awkwardly over him, legs to either side. She fumbles a little, and then slides down onto him, a huff of air escaping her mouth into his, her tongue stealing in along with it.
It's awkward, sitting sideways on the rack, but it gives her more control and she doesn't have to ride him for long before that deep ache tightens and twists in her gut. Brendan's hands move over her skin, brushing her breasts and back, clinging to her hips to steady her as she speeds up, her knees and thighs already feeling sore from the unusual angle.
She laughs a little when he tries to slide a hand between them and grinds down against him, hard, "Don't need--" she moans, huffing out another breath and losing her train of thought all together as he sucks at her shoulder.
Cally's never had any idea that spot on her shoulder was so sensitive.
And when he cups her breast, thumb stroking over her nipple, it's enough. She's skyrocketing out a viper tube, spinning in a sky full of stars and falling to Caprica all at once.
"Don't stop," he says, his voice almost whining.
Giggling, Cally doesn't even try getting her rhythm back before she loses her balance and falls sideways, aiming into the rack. Disengaged from him, she feels a little bit like her skin still wants to crawl off her body and she arches a little, one hand fisting in the blanket beneath her, "C'mere, Brendan."
Befuddled, he shifts and moves, stretching out over her and sliding between her legs.
This time, he does more of the work and sets his own pace, Cally's legs wrapping around his waist, one of her heels digging into his ass until he's shaking against her, mouth open in a strangled roar against her neck.
Rocking into him isn't going to be enough for a second climax and Brendan hears her frustrated little sound and shifts, asking in a rather confused voice, "Cally?"
"Not enough," she mumbles, pushing her hand down between them as he moves a little more, propping himself up on an elbow and blinking as he watches her.
It takes him a moment to realize where her hand is going to and then he blushes (Cally didn't think men blushed, EVER), and mumbles something before letting his hand slide from her hip to between her legs. "Let me," he murmurs, mouth moving back to her shoulder and breasts.
Cally winds her fingers into his hair and lets out a moan as his lips close over a nipple, sucking at her until she's all tightly-clenched around his fingers.
She could have gotten herself off. Could have gone back to quarters all on her own and worked off the edge, but this is better. This is warmth and movement, shifting planes of muscle and Brendan's mouth and hands. Cally thinks maybe she could get to like this.
Maybe there is a future for the fleet, and maybe it starts here and now.
He shifts, so he's not pressing her down into the rack so hard and leans into her side with a soft sigh. Cally strokes her fingers through his hair gently, then nudges him, "We should get our clothes. And your boots."
And she should get out of officer country before someone discovers her.
"Don't think I can walk yet," he says apologetically.
"'S all right," amused, she kisses his mouth again, then slides out of the rack, not caring that's she naked as she wanders around and gathers up their clothing. His, she dumps on his bed and him. Hers, she sets on the table before beginning to pull it back on. "I should go, anyway, you know."
"Go?"
Surprised that he looks sad about that, she shrugs and grins at him as she pulls her bra back on, "I'm not really supposed to be in senior officers' quarters, Lieutenant."
"Oh. Well..." He falls silent as he looks at her. "You're just leaving, aren't you."
Moving back over, she ruffles his hair, "Catch you later?"
"Yeah."
Cally thinks about why he's disappointed as she retrieves his boots and then works her way back to her own quarters, feeling pleasantly sore and achy in good ways. Men are weird, she decides with a yawn as she sits on the edge of her rack to pull her boots off. She'll have to ask Dee for advice in the morning. Or maybe Starbuck, she thinks with a flash of amusement before she tumbles backwards and curls up to sleep.
-f-
rating: R, sex, language, innuendo, naughty bits
pairing: Cally Henderson/Brendan Costanza
set: during the end of season 2/LDYB
spoilers: well. It's based on something mentioned in 4.13
notes: wtf. I do not know why I wrote Cally/Hotdog, but I did. I think I sort of maybe blame
prolix_allie.Temporary Relief of Tension
by ALC Punk!
Cally thinks it's Kara Thrace's fault, that she's sitting on Hotdog's lap, laughing at insanely stupid jokes, and betting pretzels against crackers in a game of high-stakes triad. It's not the sort of thing a sweet little deckhand should be doing, but Seelix is to her right and that guy who replaced Jammer is at a separate table, getting his ass handed to him by Starbuck.
The pilot had come dashing through the deck earlier, chased by Sam Anders. They'd fetched up against a viper, making out like teenagers with a total lack of understanding of the words 'get a room'.
It isn't like anyone could blame them. Starbuck had pulled off a frakking miracle, rescuing his ass from Caprica. Some of that was over-shadowed by New Caprica, of course. And President Baltar's executive order.
Cally isn't sure whether to be happy or sad that she's military and can't be forced to go down to that rock (unless Baltar starts trying to disband the military, though no one believes he'll get off his lazy ass to do such a stupid thing with the Cylons still out there, somewhere).
But all that is neither here nor there. She's sitting on Brendan Costanza's lap, laughing at his stupid jokes, and sometimes wiggling just a little--Cally never expected that sort of move to produce a result, but after a while, Hotdog's hands are on her hips, holding her still.
He's drunk, too, and inarticulate, so he's having a hard time simply asking her to not move, Gods, Cally.
So she keeps doing it, and she keeps laughing, and when she loses for time number ten billion (losing count is allowable, in this mental shape), she just turns to him and kisses him.
Her jaw aches a little from the wierd angle and she moves mouth shifting to compensate so she's not straining muscles.
It's a shock when she realizes he's not pulling back. And then his hands are cupping her face, so gently she feels stone cold sober.
Cheering from the table pulls her mouth from his, and Cally tries for a crazy grin as she turns away, "Thought I'd get some luck--"
"Don't think Hotdog's lips'll help," Seelix jokes. She deals again.
This time Cally wins, though. And she celebrates by kissing Brendan again. She decides she can't think of him as Hotdog with her lips on his, which is the sort of fuzzy logic she'd expect from Kara Thrace.
It's not Kara Thrace who staggers back to quarters a little while later, Brendan following her like a boyfriend sneaking in through her bedroom window (the thought that bedrooms and windows are sort of a concept in the distant past doesn't even cross her mind). They're both nervous as she checks for others, but it's his boots they leave outside the room.
Cally lets him kiss her again, just inside the hatchway, and he's gentle and urgent both in a way that makes her head spin.
"We're drunk," he mumbles as she pulls him further in, fingers pulling at his tanks, plucking the fabric off of his skin so her palms can slide up the front of him.
"Yeah," she murmurs against his mouth, "we are." She kisses him harder, trying to blot out the logical part of her brain that is screaming that this is stupid. It's not the first time she's kissed someone with the intention of more. It's just been a while--she blots out the reason for that, determined not to care.
"We should, we should stop," he says. But he's not stopping, hands brushing over her face and neck, shoulders and arms.
Cally makes an impatient noise and pulls back to yank her tanks up and off. "You can leave if you want," she suggests, pretty sure her insolent tone is straight from Starbuck.
There's a moment where he looks at her, eyes wide and dark. Then he's moving, hands catching her waist, palms pressing in as he strokes them upwards, fingers sliding around to her bare back and catching up under her bra strap.
When her arms raise over her head, she's pretty sure she's daring him to continue.
He does, flicking the bra somewhere and bending his head to kiss her shoulder as his hands stroke back down her arms and then move to cup her breasts.
Sensation floods her, the feel of his hands on her making her skin heat. She pushes her fingers into his hair and turns his mouth up, kissing him fiercely as his hands slowly learn every inch of her skin, coming back to stroke her breasts, thumbs pressing at her hardening nipples.
Brendan fumbles with the jumpsuit covering her legs, not seeming to realize how to push it off of her until she does it for him, letting it drop to the floor.
Stepping back gets her feet tangled in the damned thing and it's only Brendan's arms around her that keep them both from tumbling to the deck. "Frak--" she swears, pulling free of him and hopping as she tries not to fall over as she bends down to untie her boots.
"I got--"
His head collides with her shoulder and they both swear, Cally breaking into giggles when he makes an impatient noise and picks her up, setting her on the edge of the table so he can work on her laces.
"Don't take all night, Hotdog," she growls, "It's a little cold up here."
Sitting on his heels, he looks up at her and grins, "Think I can solve that."
Kicking out, just barely missing him, she giggles, "Gods, I hope so." She thinks she sounds like a ridiculously young teenager, but doesn't care.
Brendan's hands slide up her legs, making her shift and squirm, though he continues to stand and skims right past her thighs.
Reaching out, she hauls on his shirts, "Someone's over-dressed."
Laughing, he pulls them off and starts working on his pants, eyes on her, like he's thinking about putting on a show.
Deciding to hurry him along, Cally cups her own breasts, lightly pinching her nipples. She practically falls of the table, howling with laughter at the shock and awe that cross Brendan's face before his hands work faster, leaving his clothes in a heap.
He doesn't trip as he moves back to the table, sliding between her legs.
Naked. Cally likes naked, and she stretches, pressing up against him and kissing his mouth and neck, hands playing with the back of his hair while he tries to decide what to do with his hands, and her.
"Bed, Costanza," she suggests, licking his shoulder.
He's already hard--frak, he's a guy, and she's been feeling evidence of that for hours. Cally has to wonder if he knows how much fun she had teasing him all night (she hadn't started out intending to). "Bed, I can do," he murmurs, kissing her mouth again.
"You first."
He raises his eyebrows, but moves to sit on the edge of a rack, looking at her. "Are you sure--?"
With a smirk, Cally hops off the table, sauntering over to him. She leans down, "This isn't my first time," she says, feeling almost scornful at the surprise in his eyes. She laughs a little, hands careful as she fondles him a little, enjoying the way his hips twitch. "Starbuck's right, you guys are all idiots."
"Cally--"
"Shhh." Her mouth covers his as she pushes him back, climbing awkwardly over him, legs to either side. She fumbles a little, and then slides down onto him, a huff of air escaping her mouth into his, her tongue stealing in along with it.
It's awkward, sitting sideways on the rack, but it gives her more control and she doesn't have to ride him for long before that deep ache tightens and twists in her gut. Brendan's hands move over her skin, brushing her breasts and back, clinging to her hips to steady her as she speeds up, her knees and thighs already feeling sore from the unusual angle.
She laughs a little when he tries to slide a hand between them and grinds down against him, hard, "Don't need--" she moans, huffing out another breath and losing her train of thought all together as he sucks at her shoulder.
Cally's never had any idea that spot on her shoulder was so sensitive.
And when he cups her breast, thumb stroking over her nipple, it's enough. She's skyrocketing out a viper tube, spinning in a sky full of stars and falling to Caprica all at once.
"Don't stop," he says, his voice almost whining.
Giggling, Cally doesn't even try getting her rhythm back before she loses her balance and falls sideways, aiming into the rack. Disengaged from him, she feels a little bit like her skin still wants to crawl off her body and she arches a little, one hand fisting in the blanket beneath her, "C'mere, Brendan."
Befuddled, he shifts and moves, stretching out over her and sliding between her legs.
This time, he does more of the work and sets his own pace, Cally's legs wrapping around his waist, one of her heels digging into his ass until he's shaking against her, mouth open in a strangled roar against her neck.
Rocking into him isn't going to be enough for a second climax and Brendan hears her frustrated little sound and shifts, asking in a rather confused voice, "Cally?"
"Not enough," she mumbles, pushing her hand down between them as he moves a little more, propping himself up on an elbow and blinking as he watches her.
It takes him a moment to realize where her hand is going to and then he blushes (Cally didn't think men blushed, EVER), and mumbles something before letting his hand slide from her hip to between her legs. "Let me," he murmurs, mouth moving back to her shoulder and breasts.
Cally winds her fingers into his hair and lets out a moan as his lips close over a nipple, sucking at her until she's all tightly-clenched around his fingers.
She could have gotten herself off. Could have gone back to quarters all on her own and worked off the edge, but this is better. This is warmth and movement, shifting planes of muscle and Brendan's mouth and hands. Cally thinks maybe she could get to like this.
Maybe there is a future for the fleet, and maybe it starts here and now.
He shifts, so he's not pressing her down into the rack so hard and leans into her side with a soft sigh. Cally strokes her fingers through his hair gently, then nudges him, "We should get our clothes. And your boots."
And she should get out of officer country before someone discovers her.
"Don't think I can walk yet," he says apologetically.
"'S all right," amused, she kisses his mouth again, then slides out of the rack, not caring that's she naked as she wanders around and gathers up their clothing. His, she dumps on his bed and him. Hers, she sets on the table before beginning to pull it back on. "I should go, anyway, you know."
"Go?"
Surprised that he looks sad about that, she shrugs and grins at him as she pulls her bra back on, "I'm not really supposed to be in senior officers' quarters, Lieutenant."
"Oh. Well..." He falls silent as he looks at her. "You're just leaving, aren't you."
Moving back over, she ruffles his hair, "Catch you later?"
"Yeah."
Cally thinks about why he's disappointed as she retrieves his boots and then works her way back to her own quarters, feeling pleasantly sore and achy in good ways. Men are weird, she decides with a yawn as she sits on the edge of her rack to pull her boots off. She'll have to ask Dee for advice in the morning. Or maybe Starbuck, she thinks with a flash of amusement before she tumbles backwards and curls up to sleep.
-f-