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Entry tags:
fic: BSG, Love Leaves its Mark, Kara/Sam, R
disclaimer: not mine
rating: er... R? non-explicit sex, mockery
pairing: Kara/Sam
length: 1300 (which is why it's here)
set: Sine Qua Non
prompt: Sam/Kara, Longshot
notes: for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
bsg_pornbattle (now, if I could get some other pairings written, please, brain)
Love Leaves its Mark
by ALC Punk!
Kara was floating in a haze of stims and a half bottle of the rotgut most everyone still called ambrosia. The former had gotten her through two days with no sleep (against her wishes, but half her pilots were gone and the other half were just as worn and wary). The latter had been to bring her back down to the ground, mellow her out a little.
She wasn't entirely sure which of them was working on her at the moment. But floating with her head in the clouds had become almost normal, these days. She needed an anchor, something solid, before she drifted away.
And she might have just the thing, too.
"They called you Longshot." She laughed, giggles sticking in her throat before she took another pull of the bottle in her hand.
Almost as tired as she was, Sam slumped in a chair at the table. There'd been paperwork: flight schedules and supply lists to go over, and Kara was sure that they'd been important, though she wasn't sure how anymore.
"Yeah. Yeah, they did."
"Didn't think you'd cut it," suggested Kara.
Sam nodded, head dropping back as he rocked his shoulders, obviously trying to relieve some of the tension there. Kara knew that too-tight feeling; sometimes, she still got it in the cockpit. "Didn't think I'd have the chops to make it through training. Didn't think I did, either."
"Report says--" Kara was lying, Maggie had summarized the report a week ago, so Kara's flight scheduling could be manageable. They hadn't had time for anything else, "--didn't trap your first landing."
"Tenth try."
Giggles escaped her again and she waved her finger at him. "Poor, poor, Sammy. Can't trap a landing to save his life."
He stood up, distracting her and making her appreciate how tall he was, head scraping the ceiling from the vantage point of her rack. Reaching down, his hand closed on the bottle and he pulled it from her grasp. "Think you've had enough."
"No--" Kara tried to grab it back and only Sam's ducking and catching her kept her from falling out of the rack. His body sort of sprawled in on top of her, like it was the natural way to keep her from taking a dive out of the bed again. That was all right, as far as she was concerned. Sam smelled good.
He didn't have to get that close, but Kara appreciated it. Snaking her hand up, she played with the hair at the nape of his neck as he continued to hold her, the bottle digging into her side before he adjusted and set it on the shelf in her rack.
"Too short," she informed him.
"Works better in a helmet," he replied, looking amused.
"Nuh-uh--" rearing up, she kissed him, sloppy and open-mouthed. For a moment, Kara could feel the ground beneath her feet and electricity sliding under her skin.
Sam pulled free, though not without kissing her back more than a little. "You're drunk," he murmured.
Disappointed and annoyed at him, she grabbed his collar before he could get away completely. "We've frakked drunk before."
"Kara--"
"What's the matter, Sammy? Afraid?" She giggled and whispered, though her voice was still pretty loud, even in her own ears, "Do I need to dare you again?"
He went blank for a moment, then laughed and climbed to his feet. When he pulled his shirts off, Kara figured she'd won and began giggling.
"You might want to be naked."
Her giggles changed to a howl of laughter and she held out a hand for assistance out of the rack. It was easy to grope him once she was standing, and she took full advantage of his naked upper body. Rubbing her face against his arm and licking his shoulder, she wondered if all men smelled this good or if it was something uniquely Sam.
Since her disordered brain wasn't working, she couldn't remember any other man, and even as drunk as she was, asking him would be rude. It might even cause him to stop wanting sex with her.
He made a noise, then started stripping her. Kara tried to help, but kept getting distracted by the size of his hands and how much she liked them on her body--and told him so, which led to him cupping her breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples as he looked entirely too smug and amused.
"Boots--" Kara blurted, trying to wipe the smug look off his face. Also, there was something to be said for not having random pilots walk in on her making out with her husband.
Laughing at her, he turned her, smacking her ass before moving away to the hatch. His boots made a satisfyingly thunky noise when they landed outside in the hallway, and Kara appreciated the view while he closed and spun the wheel to lock it.
Trying to remember where he'd put her booze, Kara sat on the edge of the rack and managed to get her own boots and socks off. Unbuttoning her pants was beyond her until she remembered how such simple mechanisms worked. A part of her brain noted just how drunk she was, at that. Maybe too drunk for this, but she wasn't going to stop it now they'd started.
Sam wandered back into view, and she felt jealous at how he had no trouble with his pants. Irrationally, she wanted to hate him for it.
"Get in," he suggested, pointing at the rack.
Feeling childish, Kara stuck her tongue out at him before giggling again and doing as ordered.
He climbed in after her, settling between her legs comfortably, his arms keeping him propped up, so he wasn't squishing her.
"Who's in charge, here?" she asked, squirming a little and feeling the sharp ache of desire slide along her skin.
In answer, he kissed her neck, then her breasts, sucking a nipple until her legs came up, pressing into his sides. There was something stable and grounding in the press of his body against hers. Not to mention, hot.
Kara could taste the sweat on his skin and feel his pulse in her veins as she stroked and groped and leaned up to kiss him.
When leisurely teasing and kissing was all he continued to do, she whined, "More."
"Say my name," he suggested, teasing her. He was hard and nearly there, brushing up against her, rubbing just a little too lightly to do her much good.
Digging her nails into his shoulder, Kara moaned, stretching out the vowels, "Longshot."
It was his turn to laugh, hips jerking forward and thrusting into her. His mouth closed on her nipple, sucking harder as he set a quick, steady pace.
Kara stroked her fingers through his hair and rocked her hips, murmuring encouragement. It was almost routine for them, but it still felt good, and the edge of hysteria from the stims and alcohol was mellowing finally. Turning into that electric feel she sometimes got when the sex was really good and she couldn't keep herself quiet, even when there were others nearby.
"C'mon, Longshot," she teased, hands on his skin as she tugged his mouth to hers. "Make me feel it."
He laughed into the kiss, deepening his thrusts as she ground into him until she was crying out, feeling a little too much as he followed her, keeping him propped above her as he panted against her neck.
Feeling fuzzy and sleepy, Kara patted his shoulder, then wriggled a little, sending a few aftershocks through herself as she disengaged. "Sleep now, Sammy."
At least, she thought she said the words. She was suddenly too lost in the grey of sleep to really notice.
He did chuckle, though, and shift, body stretching at the back of her rack as she tried to pull the blankets up. Sam helped her, arm staying hooked over her waist as he joined her in sleep.
Later, she'd wake sweaty, sticky, and with an annoyed Hot Dog bitching about the boots outside the hatch.
-f-
rating: er... R? non-explicit sex, mockery
pairing: Kara/Sam
length: 1300 (which is why it's here)
set: Sine Qua Non
prompt: Sam/Kara, Longshot
notes: for the
bsg_pornbattle (now, if I could get some other pairings written, please, brain)Love Leaves its Mark
by ALC Punk!
Kara was floating in a haze of stims and a half bottle of the rotgut most everyone still called ambrosia. The former had gotten her through two days with no sleep (against her wishes, but half her pilots were gone and the other half were just as worn and wary). The latter had been to bring her back down to the ground, mellow her out a little.
She wasn't entirely sure which of them was working on her at the moment. But floating with her head in the clouds had become almost normal, these days. She needed an anchor, something solid, before she drifted away.
And she might have just the thing, too.
"They called you Longshot." She laughed, giggles sticking in her throat before she took another pull of the bottle in her hand.
Almost as tired as she was, Sam slumped in a chair at the table. There'd been paperwork: flight schedules and supply lists to go over, and Kara was sure that they'd been important, though she wasn't sure how anymore.
"Yeah. Yeah, they did."
"Didn't think you'd cut it," suggested Kara.
Sam nodded, head dropping back as he rocked his shoulders, obviously trying to relieve some of the tension there. Kara knew that too-tight feeling; sometimes, she still got it in the cockpit. "Didn't think I'd have the chops to make it through training. Didn't think I did, either."
"Report says--" Kara was lying, Maggie had summarized the report a week ago, so Kara's flight scheduling could be manageable. They hadn't had time for anything else, "--didn't trap your first landing."
"Tenth try."
Giggles escaped her again and she waved her finger at him. "Poor, poor, Sammy. Can't trap a landing to save his life."
He stood up, distracting her and making her appreciate how tall he was, head scraping the ceiling from the vantage point of her rack. Reaching down, his hand closed on the bottle and he pulled it from her grasp. "Think you've had enough."
"No--" Kara tried to grab it back and only Sam's ducking and catching her kept her from falling out of the rack. His body sort of sprawled in on top of her, like it was the natural way to keep her from taking a dive out of the bed again. That was all right, as far as she was concerned. Sam smelled good.
He didn't have to get that close, but Kara appreciated it. Snaking her hand up, she played with the hair at the nape of his neck as he continued to hold her, the bottle digging into her side before he adjusted and set it on the shelf in her rack.
"Too short," she informed him.
"Works better in a helmet," he replied, looking amused.
"Nuh-uh--" rearing up, she kissed him, sloppy and open-mouthed. For a moment, Kara could feel the ground beneath her feet and electricity sliding under her skin.
Sam pulled free, though not without kissing her back more than a little. "You're drunk," he murmured.
Disappointed and annoyed at him, she grabbed his collar before he could get away completely. "We've frakked drunk before."
"Kara--"
"What's the matter, Sammy? Afraid?" She giggled and whispered, though her voice was still pretty loud, even in her own ears, "Do I need to dare you again?"
He went blank for a moment, then laughed and climbed to his feet. When he pulled his shirts off, Kara figured she'd won and began giggling.
"You might want to be naked."
Her giggles changed to a howl of laughter and she held out a hand for assistance out of the rack. It was easy to grope him once she was standing, and she took full advantage of his naked upper body. Rubbing her face against his arm and licking his shoulder, she wondered if all men smelled this good or if it was something uniquely Sam.
Since her disordered brain wasn't working, she couldn't remember any other man, and even as drunk as she was, asking him would be rude. It might even cause him to stop wanting sex with her.
He made a noise, then started stripping her. Kara tried to help, but kept getting distracted by the size of his hands and how much she liked them on her body--and told him so, which led to him cupping her breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples as he looked entirely too smug and amused.
"Boots--" Kara blurted, trying to wipe the smug look off his face. Also, there was something to be said for not having random pilots walk in on her making out with her husband.
Laughing at her, he turned her, smacking her ass before moving away to the hatch. His boots made a satisfyingly thunky noise when they landed outside in the hallway, and Kara appreciated the view while he closed and spun the wheel to lock it.
Trying to remember where he'd put her booze, Kara sat on the edge of the rack and managed to get her own boots and socks off. Unbuttoning her pants was beyond her until she remembered how such simple mechanisms worked. A part of her brain noted just how drunk she was, at that. Maybe too drunk for this, but she wasn't going to stop it now they'd started.
Sam wandered back into view, and she felt jealous at how he had no trouble with his pants. Irrationally, she wanted to hate him for it.
"Get in," he suggested, pointing at the rack.
Feeling childish, Kara stuck her tongue out at him before giggling again and doing as ordered.
He climbed in after her, settling between her legs comfortably, his arms keeping him propped up, so he wasn't squishing her.
"Who's in charge, here?" she asked, squirming a little and feeling the sharp ache of desire slide along her skin.
In answer, he kissed her neck, then her breasts, sucking a nipple until her legs came up, pressing into his sides. There was something stable and grounding in the press of his body against hers. Not to mention, hot.
Kara could taste the sweat on his skin and feel his pulse in her veins as she stroked and groped and leaned up to kiss him.
When leisurely teasing and kissing was all he continued to do, she whined, "More."
"Say my name," he suggested, teasing her. He was hard and nearly there, brushing up against her, rubbing just a little too lightly to do her much good.
Digging her nails into his shoulder, Kara moaned, stretching out the vowels, "Longshot."
It was his turn to laugh, hips jerking forward and thrusting into her. His mouth closed on her nipple, sucking harder as he set a quick, steady pace.
Kara stroked her fingers through his hair and rocked her hips, murmuring encouragement. It was almost routine for them, but it still felt good, and the edge of hysteria from the stims and alcohol was mellowing finally. Turning into that electric feel she sometimes got when the sex was really good and she couldn't keep herself quiet, even when there were others nearby.
"C'mon, Longshot," she teased, hands on his skin as she tugged his mouth to hers. "Make me feel it."
He laughed into the kiss, deepening his thrusts as she ground into him until she was crying out, feeling a little too much as he followed her, keeping him propped above her as he panted against her neck.
Feeling fuzzy and sleepy, Kara patted his shoulder, then wriggled a little, sending a few aftershocks through herself as she disengaged. "Sleep now, Sammy."
At least, she thought she said the words. She was suddenly too lost in the grey of sleep to really notice.
He did chuckle, though, and shift, body stretching at the back of her rack as she tried to pull the blankets up. Sam helped her, arm staying hooked over her waist as he joined her in sleep.
Later, she'd wake sweaty, sticky, and with an annoyed Hot Dog bitching about the boots outside the hatch.
-f-
no subject
Guh. Drunk/playful/happy sex is definitely one of my favorite, er, genres *blush*, and this was just perfect, and totally them. <3
*rereads*
no subject
Thank you =)
I am highly fond of that genre, myself. More people need to write it for me.