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Entry tags:
fic: newBSG, Just Another Fix, Boomer/Apollo, R
disclaimer: not mine
rating: R. NC17. Sex, sex, and more sex.
spoilers: hahahaha. none.
set: season one!
length: 1500 (hence, it not fitting at the porn battle)
pairing: Boomer/Apollo, for the prompt 'liars'.
notes: I... did not intend to write this. And yet... Also, wee!innocent children are sometimes hard to handle. And a big thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
palmetto for choosing option B when I said I couldn't decide where to go next, at one point.
Just Another Fix
by ALC Punk!
Everyone knows about Boomer and Apollo.
They don't like each other: Boomer thinks he's got a stick up his ass, and he's pretty sure she's going to steal her raptor to go back to Caprica.
Rescuing Helo isn't an option anymore, but she might try it.
So it's not really a surprise to her when he grabs her coming off the flight-line and hauls her into a near-empty storage locker, all annoyance and bristling rules of conduct over her treatment of Crashdown. She doesn't like the new ECO, and she never will, but he doesn't seem to get that.
Not that the conversation stays on him very long.
"You've been riding my ass for weeks, sir," Boomer says, biting the words off like she'd like to rip his head off, maybe.
"Gee, I don't know why, lieutenant."
He's up in her personal space, and they're almost moving in the same rhythm. The scents of plastic and burnt metal, sweat and Lee Adama make Sharon's head come up, her eyes going wide and dark. "You're just an up-tight ass, sir?"
"So formal--" he pushes at her, and Sharon hits a shelf with her shoulder, the metal clanking a little.
"Well, you do seem to like the book, sir."
She isn't expecting him to move in that last inch of space, to press up against her, mouth on her neck, tongue tracing a line down her jugular.
For a moment, they stand there, Sharon supported by the shelf, Lee supported by her, his nose pressed against her throat. One of them moves, and Sharon thinks it was her, but doesn't really take time to analyze it, later. Her hands yank at the collar of his uniform, dragging it open.
"Don't pop the buttons--"
It's like Tyrol and yet not, and she flinches a little at the thought, burying it deep. This isn't about him, this isn't about Helo. This is about Lee frakking Adama and his inability to let a damned thing go. "Shut up, sir."
He kisses her, mouth crushing hers, hands on her hips to hold her steady even as she squirms, trying to free both of them from their too-constricting clothing.
"This what you need, lieutenant?" he gasps, breaking of her mouth, like he's a little afraid of his own sudden need.
Sharon growls a little, rocking into him. "I'm not the one givin' a show. Sir."
He makes a sound, half-groan, half-swear, and pulls away, yanking at his tunic off. She wants to laugh at how, even now, he's careful enough to fold it before shoving it onto a different shelf before he goes to work on his pants.
"Gonna just watch?"
The challenge makes her laugh, and she starts unzipping her flight suit, knowing that it'll take him less time to strip. She bites her lip at the way his eyes follow the line of the zipper. It makes her want to be able to pull everything off in one go, shove him down and ride him until she can forget Helo and Tyrol and Starbuck and all that's in-between that.
He's back before she's got her arms free, his hands pinning them to the shelf behind her while his mouth teases her shoulder and neck, teeth finding her nipples through three layers of fabric. Not too hard, not soft enough, and the heat that flashes through her makes her want to claw her fingers down his back.
Somehow, she gets a hand free, and her hand curves behind his neck, pulling him in closer until he starts laughing, the sound vibrating through her.
Not caring what he finds funny, she tugs at his neck, coaxing him into backing off so she can pull her tanks off. He's helping a moment later, hands skimming up her stomach and hooking beneath the band of her bra, which follows the tanks into a pile on the floor.
"Frak--" she manages, his mouth on her naked skin even better than she'd expected.
No laughter from him, this time, his hands pinning her up against the shelf again, the metal cold at her back and Lee Adama warm and alive, almost on fire with his need to touch her, his hands and mouth sliding every which way until Boomer has to grab onto the shelf rather than fist a hand in his hair.
When his hand slides down inside her flight suit and between her legs, she cries out a ragged little moan. He's very thorough in his exploration, fingers slipping and finding the correct rhythm that has her hips rocking to meet the thrust of his hand, while his mouth meanders lazily between breasts and neck. Boomer tries to remember how to think, to do more than just feel, but there's nothing but Lee Adama right then and there, Apollo relentlessly pushing her into orgasm until the electric snap of it shoots through her and she climaxes, the sound echoing back to her in the confines of the locker.
Boomer's hand on the shelf is the only thing keeping her legs from folding and leaving her a sprawled mess on the floor. "Gods--" she manages, the word barely having any sound behind it as she tries to catch her breath.
His free hand strokes up her back, almost soothing her as he lifts his head and raises his eyebrows.
For an instant, Boomer considers picking up her clothing and walking out. He's mostly-naked and looks about ready to burst a blood vessel, and she'd always heard that a CAG with blue balls was something to behold. But his fingers are still stroking her gently, and it feels almost rude. "Is there somethin' you need, sir?"
The insolence makes his jaw clench and he moves, spinning her around. Boomer anticipates his plan, bending and leaning on the shelf with her elbows. Her breasts push against the metal, and she shivers a little, waiting.
It's a good thing the shelf is there to hold her up, because his hands pulling her flight suit and underwear down off her hips is accompanied by his tongue sliding down the small of her back, and her legs almost give out again.
He takes his time getting himself positioned, hands on her ass and sliding under her belly to stroke her again.
"Afraid to go fast, sir? Afraid you won't like it?" It's a shallow and pointless taunt, but Boomer's a little afraid to find out how good it will feel if he gets her off like this, barely touching her.
Lee's hand slides up to cup a breast, thumb and forefinger pinching the nipple, rolling it almost like he's thinking about his options. "Don't hurry me, lieutenant."
There's a thousand replies she could make to that, but no chance to say them as he moves, sliding into her with a grunt.
It's the silence that gets her--and she wants to break it, but can't think of anything to say that isn't stupid. He's so frakking silent, the intensity of it scares her a little. But his fingers on her hips and back, his mouth on her skin as he bends and twists, make her twinge and clench around him.
"You plan this, sir?" she gasps, finally breaking the silence.
"Plan everything," he pants, every syllable stretched by how close he is.
Knowing that makes her smile and she arches her back more, pushing harder into him, "C'mon, sir. You plan for shit. I've seen it. You're just good at lists and rules and regulations, making sure every frakking 'i' is dotted and all the 't's are crossed--"
His fingers dig into her hips a little too hard, and then he's jerking against her, voice hoarse and barely understandable, "Shut up, lieutenant."
Feeling him sag into her, she braces herself and almost giggles when the shelf groans under their combined weights.
It's sort of awkward when he pulls away. Boomer finds them a piece of fabric to use as a towel and manages to mostly get herself decent, pants and bra back on, flight suit hanging off her waist. Lee opts for leaving his tunic off, but there's nothing that will remove the rumpled look of his hair.
"Do I pass muster, lieutenant?"
"Yes, sir," she says, eyes bland.
"Liar."
Pulling her tanks down and wondering if she can manage a shower without anyone noticing the hickey he left on her ribs, she looks at him, "Do you want me to tell the truth, sir?"
Tell the truth. Admit this thing between them exists. There's no more careers or promotions to worry about, but Lee Adama still has his rules to think about. His oath as an officer. But he doesn't answer her. Doesn't tell her to admit anything or hide what they're doing. Even after she shoves past him with a disgusted little noise, he doesn't speak again.
And Boomer thinks that's answer enough.
-f-
rating: R. NC17. Sex, sex, and more sex.
spoilers: hahahaha. none.
set: season one!
length: 1500 (hence, it not fitting at the porn battle)
pairing: Boomer/Apollo, for the prompt 'liars'.
notes: I... did not intend to write this. And yet... Also, wee!innocent children are sometimes hard to handle. And a big thank you to
palmetto for choosing option B when I said I couldn't decide where to go next, at one point. Just Another Fix
by ALC Punk!
Everyone knows about Boomer and Apollo.
They don't like each other: Boomer thinks he's got a stick up his ass, and he's pretty sure she's going to steal her raptor to go back to Caprica.
Rescuing Helo isn't an option anymore, but she might try it.
So it's not really a surprise to her when he grabs her coming off the flight-line and hauls her into a near-empty storage locker, all annoyance and bristling rules of conduct over her treatment of Crashdown. She doesn't like the new ECO, and she never will, but he doesn't seem to get that.
Not that the conversation stays on him very long.
"You've been riding my ass for weeks, sir," Boomer says, biting the words off like she'd like to rip his head off, maybe.
"Gee, I don't know why, lieutenant."
He's up in her personal space, and they're almost moving in the same rhythm. The scents of plastic and burnt metal, sweat and Lee Adama make Sharon's head come up, her eyes going wide and dark. "You're just an up-tight ass, sir?"
"So formal--" he pushes at her, and Sharon hits a shelf with her shoulder, the metal clanking a little.
"Well, you do seem to like the book, sir."
She isn't expecting him to move in that last inch of space, to press up against her, mouth on her neck, tongue tracing a line down her jugular.
For a moment, they stand there, Sharon supported by the shelf, Lee supported by her, his nose pressed against her throat. One of them moves, and Sharon thinks it was her, but doesn't really take time to analyze it, later. Her hands yank at the collar of his uniform, dragging it open.
"Don't pop the buttons--"
It's like Tyrol and yet not, and she flinches a little at the thought, burying it deep. This isn't about him, this isn't about Helo. This is about Lee frakking Adama and his inability to let a damned thing go. "Shut up, sir."
He kisses her, mouth crushing hers, hands on her hips to hold her steady even as she squirms, trying to free both of them from their too-constricting clothing.
"This what you need, lieutenant?" he gasps, breaking of her mouth, like he's a little afraid of his own sudden need.
Sharon growls a little, rocking into him. "I'm not the one givin' a show. Sir."
He makes a sound, half-groan, half-swear, and pulls away, yanking at his tunic off. She wants to laugh at how, even now, he's careful enough to fold it before shoving it onto a different shelf before he goes to work on his pants.
"Gonna just watch?"
The challenge makes her laugh, and she starts unzipping her flight suit, knowing that it'll take him less time to strip. She bites her lip at the way his eyes follow the line of the zipper. It makes her want to be able to pull everything off in one go, shove him down and ride him until she can forget Helo and Tyrol and Starbuck and all that's in-between that.
He's back before she's got her arms free, his hands pinning them to the shelf behind her while his mouth teases her shoulder and neck, teeth finding her nipples through three layers of fabric. Not too hard, not soft enough, and the heat that flashes through her makes her want to claw her fingers down his back.
Somehow, she gets a hand free, and her hand curves behind his neck, pulling him in closer until he starts laughing, the sound vibrating through her.
Not caring what he finds funny, she tugs at his neck, coaxing him into backing off so she can pull her tanks off. He's helping a moment later, hands skimming up her stomach and hooking beneath the band of her bra, which follows the tanks into a pile on the floor.
"Frak--" she manages, his mouth on her naked skin even better than she'd expected.
No laughter from him, this time, his hands pinning her up against the shelf again, the metal cold at her back and Lee Adama warm and alive, almost on fire with his need to touch her, his hands and mouth sliding every which way until Boomer has to grab onto the shelf rather than fist a hand in his hair.
When his hand slides down inside her flight suit and between her legs, she cries out a ragged little moan. He's very thorough in his exploration, fingers slipping and finding the correct rhythm that has her hips rocking to meet the thrust of his hand, while his mouth meanders lazily between breasts and neck. Boomer tries to remember how to think, to do more than just feel, but there's nothing but Lee Adama right then and there, Apollo relentlessly pushing her into orgasm until the electric snap of it shoots through her and she climaxes, the sound echoing back to her in the confines of the locker.
Boomer's hand on the shelf is the only thing keeping her legs from folding and leaving her a sprawled mess on the floor. "Gods--" she manages, the word barely having any sound behind it as she tries to catch her breath.
His free hand strokes up her back, almost soothing her as he lifts his head and raises his eyebrows.
For an instant, Boomer considers picking up her clothing and walking out. He's mostly-naked and looks about ready to burst a blood vessel, and she'd always heard that a CAG with blue balls was something to behold. But his fingers are still stroking her gently, and it feels almost rude. "Is there somethin' you need, sir?"
The insolence makes his jaw clench and he moves, spinning her around. Boomer anticipates his plan, bending and leaning on the shelf with her elbows. Her breasts push against the metal, and she shivers a little, waiting.
It's a good thing the shelf is there to hold her up, because his hands pulling her flight suit and underwear down off her hips is accompanied by his tongue sliding down the small of her back, and her legs almost give out again.
He takes his time getting himself positioned, hands on her ass and sliding under her belly to stroke her again.
"Afraid to go fast, sir? Afraid you won't like it?" It's a shallow and pointless taunt, but Boomer's a little afraid to find out how good it will feel if he gets her off like this, barely touching her.
Lee's hand slides up to cup a breast, thumb and forefinger pinching the nipple, rolling it almost like he's thinking about his options. "Don't hurry me, lieutenant."
There's a thousand replies she could make to that, but no chance to say them as he moves, sliding into her with a grunt.
It's the silence that gets her--and she wants to break it, but can't think of anything to say that isn't stupid. He's so frakking silent, the intensity of it scares her a little. But his fingers on her hips and back, his mouth on her skin as he bends and twists, make her twinge and clench around him.
"You plan this, sir?" she gasps, finally breaking the silence.
"Plan everything," he pants, every syllable stretched by how close he is.
Knowing that makes her smile and she arches her back more, pushing harder into him, "C'mon, sir. You plan for shit. I've seen it. You're just good at lists and rules and regulations, making sure every frakking 'i' is dotted and all the 't's are crossed--"
His fingers dig into her hips a little too hard, and then he's jerking against her, voice hoarse and barely understandable, "Shut up, lieutenant."
Feeling him sag into her, she braces herself and almost giggles when the shelf groans under their combined weights.
It's sort of awkward when he pulls away. Boomer finds them a piece of fabric to use as a towel and manages to mostly get herself decent, pants and bra back on, flight suit hanging off her waist. Lee opts for leaving his tunic off, but there's nothing that will remove the rumpled look of his hair.
"Do I pass muster, lieutenant?"
"Yes, sir," she says, eyes bland.
"Liar."
Pulling her tanks down and wondering if she can manage a shower without anyone noticing the hickey he left on her ribs, she looks at him, "Do you want me to tell the truth, sir?"
Tell the truth. Admit this thing between them exists. There's no more careers or promotions to worry about, but Lee Adama still has his rules to think about. His oath as an officer. But he doesn't answer her. Doesn't tell her to admit anything or hide what they're doing. Even after she shoves past him with a disgusted little noise, he doesn't speak again.
And Boomer thinks that's answer enough.
-f-
no subject
Ha! That would've been brilliant.
That was all sorts of win. Love your Boomer!
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Thank you =)
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<3 back, you.
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♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
I love this so frakking much.
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I love how she's totally got Lee's number in this.
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and have, as I'd forgotten (bad me)