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Entry tags:
fic: BSG, Do You Have a little Time?, Jeanne/Paulla
disclaimer: not mine
pairing: Jeanne/Paulla
set: LDYB
rating: R, sex.
length: 1900+
prompt: Jeanne/Paulla, rifle
notes: Where else were Jeanne and Paulla before becoming a member of Baltar's little born-again cult?
Do You Have a little Time?
by ALC Punk!
"Are you sure we should be doing this? What if Gina--"
Paulla cut Jeanne off before she could continue in her half-whisper. Best not to mention Gina's name, not when there might be others who could hear. Common name or not. "She'd agree. Supplies are hard to come by, even on Cloud Nine." They'd already had this conversation. Once, when Paulla had proposed it, and again in silent looks and murmurs while taking the shuttle between their home and the Galactica.
It was a conversation that Paulla was finding rapidly getting old.
So she distracted herself and focused on her personal amusement at how easy it was to get on board the fleet's grand and commanding military ship. Paulla figured they needed better lessons in security as they walked quietly down another corridor. She and Jeanne had stepped off of the shuttle and into a crowd of shift-changing pilots, all of them slapping each other on the back and claiming victory over each other with an arrogance that didn't surprise her.
Getting from the hangar and into an area filled with storage rooms had been relatively simple.
"I just think we should have asked her," Jeanne hissed as Paulla stopped at a likely-looking door (hatch, she had to remind herself they called them hatches on the metal boxes they lived in).
Paulla didn't answer for the moment, absorbed in picking the lock. A little ingenuity, a little know-how, and the code swiped from a corporal who visited one of the women in their little enclave aboard Cloud Nine, and Paulla had the locker open in a matter of seconds. "We need to move fast. In and out."
The locker had guns and ammunition, but sadly no explosives. Paulla stroked her fingers over one of the rifles, wondering if they could get away with toting them down the hall, then sighed, knowing it was too much to attempt at this early date.
Maybe after Gina and the rest of them had won a few concessions from the government. Deposing it was a pipe dream she wasn't expecting to see anytime soon. Although, there was the tantalizing possibility that Gaius Baltar would win the presidency. The idea had lodged in Gina's head, and was one of the few things she seemed cheerful about. As though she knew it would happen in some way she couldn't share with the others.
"We shouldn't be here," Jeanne muttered, though she opened one of the bins and started filling the pack she'd brought with the ammunition inside.
Ammunition could be broken down, or used for the few guns they'd found on the black market. Paulla knew how to shoot a pistol, though it had been a while. If they couldn't use it, they could trade it for whatever they needed: food, medicines, better weapons.
"You know what Gina would have said," she finally replied to Jeanne's earlier comment, fingers still stroking the rifle before she reluctantly moved on to find some smaller items to stuff in her own napsack.
"'God will provide'," was Jeanne's pious reply, though it was accompanied by a slight smile.
Which God, though, that was the question. Paulla wasn't the most religious of women, though she was gaining a new appreciation for them since Gina arrived to help their tiny cause. The Cylon's God? Some human remnant of that being? Or one of the old Gods, who hadn't lifted a finger to stop the destruction of the Colonies?
Back to the rifles, Paulla pulled one from the rack, shifting it so that she was holding it properly.
"We should be peaceful," Jeanne said quietly, fastening her pack and looking up from her crouched position on the floor to meet Paulla's eyes.
"And where has peace gotten us?" demanded Paulla, not putting the rifle down, and only aware that it felt right to hold it.
Jeanne ducked her head, then slanted another look at her, this one of a different quality, "You take my breath away, some days."
"Do I?"
Something not a smile crossed Jeanne's lips and she moved towards Paulla on all fours, her pack forgotten for the moment, "You look dangerous. Different." She straightened and leaned in, her cheek pressing against Paulla's belly. "Like you could do anything."
Heat spread through Paulla, sudden and intense. She swallowed and reached down, threading her fingers through Jeanne's hair, rifle still cradled in her other arm, "I could do anything."
"To me?"
Paulla looked away from Jeanne's strange look, eyes tracking over the grid of shelves and racks. "To anyone, maybe."
"Do you know how hot you look with that rifle?" Jeanne asked, obviously changing tactics, her fingers at Paulla's waist, tugging her shirt free.
Paulla sucked in a breath as Jeanne's lips skimmed her skin, tracing a random path, causing the heat to pool in the pit of her belly quicker and faster. "Rifles turn you on?"
"Something like that," Jeanne's tongue flicked out, licking a patch of skin before she chuckled a little, fingers suddenly busy again, undoing Paulla's belt and pants. "Unless you object, that is..." she stopped, looking up at Paulla from underneath her lashes in a way that made Paulla want to drop to her own knees.
There were at least two reasons to tell Jeanne to stop. But Paulla found them sort of lacking in the getting her off department, not to mention that if they were going to get caught, having Jeanne going down on her might make their little excuse of being whores who'd lost their way between quarters and hangar plausible. She bit her lip and shifted a little, bumping her elbow up against a shelf, "Make it quick."
"You wish," Jeanne shot back before she yanked Paulla's pants and underwear out of her way.
Jeanne had always been good with her mouth. From the first time they'd frakked, Paulla had appreciated it (lost in a corridor ten hours after the world ended, clinging to each other until Jeanne's hand slid down her pants and then they were clinging for an entirely different reason). She nuzzled up against Paulla, blowing out air over her already damp pussy, licking a moment later, the alternating sensations making Paulla shift, restless.
Not enough to make her come, but enough to distract her, make her think of Jeanne on her back, Paulla's fingers driving into her again and again until she was crying for respite.
"Spread," Jeanne murmured, hands pushing Paulla's pants down the rest of the way, then stroking back up to press her thighs as far apart as she could get them.
Leaning more against the shelf, Paulla thought of all the things that could go wrong in this scenario. Then Jeanne's tongue slid against her clit, and she found herself not thinking at all, except to remember not to drop the rifle.
"Hot," Jeanne said against Paulla's skin, the vibration making her moan a little. "C'mon, baby," Jeanne pushed two fingers into her, tilting her head a little and almost attacking Paulla's clitoris.
Biting her lip, Paulla tried to hold still. But her breath quickened and she was shifting, rocking into Jeanne's face and fingers, almost grinding as the tension built, the heat crawling up her spine. The rifle was hard against her side, the smell of gun oil pulling at her a little.
Closing her eyes gave her no help, the mental images parading across her eyelids enough to make her open them again, panting harder.
Staring down at Jeanne certainly didn't help; her lover's eyes dark with pleasure and greed, watching and waiting for the moment Paulla went over the edge.
"C'mon, baby," Jeanne said again, the words muffled and causing Paulla to twitch. "C'mon for me, baby. Lemme hear you--" She thrust a third finger into Paulla, curving and twisting them, her eyes on Paulla's, her lips sucking at her until Paulla couldn't stop herself.
She moaned, barely able to keep herself quiet as she climaxed, remembering in an instant as the rifle began to slide that it couldn't fall, she clutched at it reflexively, and bit her lip, the sharp pain keeping her mouth closed on the sounds she wanted to make as Jeanne's fingers twisted inside her, teeth scraping against her skin and drawing her orgasm out until she was limp.
Licking the top of one thigh, Jeanne made a pleased little noise and slowly sat back on her heels. "Still hot," she murmured.
Wondering how much longer they'd have until someone came patrolling through the corridor, Paulla bent and kissed Jeanne, tasting herself on the other woman's lips. Then she set the rifle down before pulling her pants up. "We should get back to what we were doing."
It was brusque, but she hadn't meant for them to pause for sex.
"All right," Jeanne said, her head down.
Paulla didn't spare her a glance as she turned away to set the rifle back in its rack. Her pack was still open, so she closed it, then moved to the hatch, peering into the hallway to check that it was safe before she stepped out. Jeanne followed her, pack over her own shoulder. "How many more?"
"Just two, I think." Paulla nodded back in the direction of the hangar, "We need to be back in time to catch a ride home, after all."
"I still think we should have told Gina," murmured Jeanne as she moved past Paulla. "She would have been a good lookout."
But too recognizable, Paulla knew. She half-smiled at Jeanne's back. "I'll ask her, the next time we decide to do this."
"If there is a next time."
Paulla thought about that as she selected the next locker, fingers pressing the keys in sequence. The rumors and polls both said Laura Roslin was leading, but that could change at any moment. For a moment, Paulla considered using the weapons they had to sway the vote in Dr. Baltar's favor. Settling on this new planet could be the way to stop the Cylon pursuit. And it would rip the power from the military.
"Someone's coming," Jeanne hissed, pulling her out of her thoughts.
"Quickly--" grabbing Jeanne's hand, Paulla yanked her into the locker and shut the hatch as quietly as possible. Spinning it, she hoped it would lock.
The footsteps Jeanne had heard didn't pause as they passed the hatch, the marine obviously bored and not checking the seals as she was supposed to. Paulla leaned against the hatch anyway, listening until the sounds of her feet hadn't echoed for a count of three hundred.
"It's empty," Jeanne said, startling her.
"Hrm?"
"This locker. It's empty."
"Damn. Why the frak would you lock an empty storage locker?"
"I don't know." Jeanne leaned against her and sighed, "I think we should go back, Paulla. This could be too dangerous."
"Jeanne--"
"No, listen." Her lips brushed the back of Paulla's neck, "We've been lucky. Not every marine is going to be stupid, and the longer we're here, the faster they might find us. And you know what they said on wireless--they're going to beef up security for the elections."
In a little under twenty-four hours, they might have some of their prayers answered. Paulla leaned her forehead against the hatch, then nodded, "All right. We need to vote, after all."
Jeanne let out a relieved sigh, "Yes. Are you voting Baltar?"
"No."
"But, Paulla--"
Opening the hatch, Paulla turned to the left and murmured, "You'll have time to convince me not to vote Roslin. But you'll have to be very persuasive."
"I can be," Jeanne assured her, keeping pace as they headed back to the hangar.
Paulla was looking forward to that. Elections or not, there was something to be said for holding onto what you had.
-f-
pairing: Jeanne/Paulla
set: LDYB
rating: R, sex.
length: 1900+
prompt: Jeanne/Paulla, rifle
notes: Where else were Jeanne and Paulla before becoming a member of Baltar's little born-again cult?
Do You Have a little Time?
by ALC Punk!
"Are you sure we should be doing this? What if Gina--"
Paulla cut Jeanne off before she could continue in her half-whisper. Best not to mention Gina's name, not when there might be others who could hear. Common name or not. "She'd agree. Supplies are hard to come by, even on Cloud Nine." They'd already had this conversation. Once, when Paulla had proposed it, and again in silent looks and murmurs while taking the shuttle between their home and the Galactica.
It was a conversation that Paulla was finding rapidly getting old.
So she distracted herself and focused on her personal amusement at how easy it was to get on board the fleet's grand and commanding military ship. Paulla figured they needed better lessons in security as they walked quietly down another corridor. She and Jeanne had stepped off of the shuttle and into a crowd of shift-changing pilots, all of them slapping each other on the back and claiming victory over each other with an arrogance that didn't surprise her.
Getting from the hangar and into an area filled with storage rooms had been relatively simple.
"I just think we should have asked her," Jeanne hissed as Paulla stopped at a likely-looking door (hatch, she had to remind herself they called them hatches on the metal boxes they lived in).
Paulla didn't answer for the moment, absorbed in picking the lock. A little ingenuity, a little know-how, and the code swiped from a corporal who visited one of the women in their little enclave aboard Cloud Nine, and Paulla had the locker open in a matter of seconds. "We need to move fast. In and out."
The locker had guns and ammunition, but sadly no explosives. Paulla stroked her fingers over one of the rifles, wondering if they could get away with toting them down the hall, then sighed, knowing it was too much to attempt at this early date.
Maybe after Gina and the rest of them had won a few concessions from the government. Deposing it was a pipe dream she wasn't expecting to see anytime soon. Although, there was the tantalizing possibility that Gaius Baltar would win the presidency. The idea had lodged in Gina's head, and was one of the few things she seemed cheerful about. As though she knew it would happen in some way she couldn't share with the others.
"We shouldn't be here," Jeanne muttered, though she opened one of the bins and started filling the pack she'd brought with the ammunition inside.
Ammunition could be broken down, or used for the few guns they'd found on the black market. Paulla knew how to shoot a pistol, though it had been a while. If they couldn't use it, they could trade it for whatever they needed: food, medicines, better weapons.
"You know what Gina would have said," she finally replied to Jeanne's earlier comment, fingers still stroking the rifle before she reluctantly moved on to find some smaller items to stuff in her own napsack.
"'God will provide'," was Jeanne's pious reply, though it was accompanied by a slight smile.
Which God, though, that was the question. Paulla wasn't the most religious of women, though she was gaining a new appreciation for them since Gina arrived to help their tiny cause. The Cylon's God? Some human remnant of that being? Or one of the old Gods, who hadn't lifted a finger to stop the destruction of the Colonies?
Back to the rifles, Paulla pulled one from the rack, shifting it so that she was holding it properly.
"We should be peaceful," Jeanne said quietly, fastening her pack and looking up from her crouched position on the floor to meet Paulla's eyes.
"And where has peace gotten us?" demanded Paulla, not putting the rifle down, and only aware that it felt right to hold it.
Jeanne ducked her head, then slanted another look at her, this one of a different quality, "You take my breath away, some days."
"Do I?"
Something not a smile crossed Jeanne's lips and she moved towards Paulla on all fours, her pack forgotten for the moment, "You look dangerous. Different." She straightened and leaned in, her cheek pressing against Paulla's belly. "Like you could do anything."
Heat spread through Paulla, sudden and intense. She swallowed and reached down, threading her fingers through Jeanne's hair, rifle still cradled in her other arm, "I could do anything."
"To me?"
Paulla looked away from Jeanne's strange look, eyes tracking over the grid of shelves and racks. "To anyone, maybe."
"Do you know how hot you look with that rifle?" Jeanne asked, obviously changing tactics, her fingers at Paulla's waist, tugging her shirt free.
Paulla sucked in a breath as Jeanne's lips skimmed her skin, tracing a random path, causing the heat to pool in the pit of her belly quicker and faster. "Rifles turn you on?"
"Something like that," Jeanne's tongue flicked out, licking a patch of skin before she chuckled a little, fingers suddenly busy again, undoing Paulla's belt and pants. "Unless you object, that is..." she stopped, looking up at Paulla from underneath her lashes in a way that made Paulla want to drop to her own knees.
There were at least two reasons to tell Jeanne to stop. But Paulla found them sort of lacking in the getting her off department, not to mention that if they were going to get caught, having Jeanne going down on her might make their little excuse of being whores who'd lost their way between quarters and hangar plausible. She bit her lip and shifted a little, bumping her elbow up against a shelf, "Make it quick."
"You wish," Jeanne shot back before she yanked Paulla's pants and underwear out of her way.
Jeanne had always been good with her mouth. From the first time they'd frakked, Paulla had appreciated it (lost in a corridor ten hours after the world ended, clinging to each other until Jeanne's hand slid down her pants and then they were clinging for an entirely different reason). She nuzzled up against Paulla, blowing out air over her already damp pussy, licking a moment later, the alternating sensations making Paulla shift, restless.
Not enough to make her come, but enough to distract her, make her think of Jeanne on her back, Paulla's fingers driving into her again and again until she was crying for respite.
"Spread," Jeanne murmured, hands pushing Paulla's pants down the rest of the way, then stroking back up to press her thighs as far apart as she could get them.
Leaning more against the shelf, Paulla thought of all the things that could go wrong in this scenario. Then Jeanne's tongue slid against her clit, and she found herself not thinking at all, except to remember not to drop the rifle.
"Hot," Jeanne said against Paulla's skin, the vibration making her moan a little. "C'mon, baby," Jeanne pushed two fingers into her, tilting her head a little and almost attacking Paulla's clitoris.
Biting her lip, Paulla tried to hold still. But her breath quickened and she was shifting, rocking into Jeanne's face and fingers, almost grinding as the tension built, the heat crawling up her spine. The rifle was hard against her side, the smell of gun oil pulling at her a little.
Closing her eyes gave her no help, the mental images parading across her eyelids enough to make her open them again, panting harder.
Staring down at Jeanne certainly didn't help; her lover's eyes dark with pleasure and greed, watching and waiting for the moment Paulla went over the edge.
"C'mon, baby," Jeanne said again, the words muffled and causing Paulla to twitch. "C'mon for me, baby. Lemme hear you--" She thrust a third finger into Paulla, curving and twisting them, her eyes on Paulla's, her lips sucking at her until Paulla couldn't stop herself.
She moaned, barely able to keep herself quiet as she climaxed, remembering in an instant as the rifle began to slide that it couldn't fall, she clutched at it reflexively, and bit her lip, the sharp pain keeping her mouth closed on the sounds she wanted to make as Jeanne's fingers twisted inside her, teeth scraping against her skin and drawing her orgasm out until she was limp.
Licking the top of one thigh, Jeanne made a pleased little noise and slowly sat back on her heels. "Still hot," she murmured.
Wondering how much longer they'd have until someone came patrolling through the corridor, Paulla bent and kissed Jeanne, tasting herself on the other woman's lips. Then she set the rifle down before pulling her pants up. "We should get back to what we were doing."
It was brusque, but she hadn't meant for them to pause for sex.
"All right," Jeanne said, her head down.
Paulla didn't spare her a glance as she turned away to set the rifle back in its rack. Her pack was still open, so she closed it, then moved to the hatch, peering into the hallway to check that it was safe before she stepped out. Jeanne followed her, pack over her own shoulder. "How many more?"
"Just two, I think." Paulla nodded back in the direction of the hangar, "We need to be back in time to catch a ride home, after all."
"I still think we should have told Gina," murmured Jeanne as she moved past Paulla. "She would have been a good lookout."
But too recognizable, Paulla knew. She half-smiled at Jeanne's back. "I'll ask her, the next time we decide to do this."
"If there is a next time."
Paulla thought about that as she selected the next locker, fingers pressing the keys in sequence. The rumors and polls both said Laura Roslin was leading, but that could change at any moment. For a moment, Paulla considered using the weapons they had to sway the vote in Dr. Baltar's favor. Settling on this new planet could be the way to stop the Cylon pursuit. And it would rip the power from the military.
"Someone's coming," Jeanne hissed, pulling her out of her thoughts.
"Quickly--" grabbing Jeanne's hand, Paulla yanked her into the locker and shut the hatch as quietly as possible. Spinning it, she hoped it would lock.
The footsteps Jeanne had heard didn't pause as they passed the hatch, the marine obviously bored and not checking the seals as she was supposed to. Paulla leaned against the hatch anyway, listening until the sounds of her feet hadn't echoed for a count of three hundred.
"It's empty," Jeanne said, startling her.
"Hrm?"
"This locker. It's empty."
"Damn. Why the frak would you lock an empty storage locker?"
"I don't know." Jeanne leaned against her and sighed, "I think we should go back, Paulla. This could be too dangerous."
"Jeanne--"
"No, listen." Her lips brushed the back of Paulla's neck, "We've been lucky. Not every marine is going to be stupid, and the longer we're here, the faster they might find us. And you know what they said on wireless--they're going to beef up security for the elections."
In a little under twenty-four hours, they might have some of their prayers answered. Paulla leaned her forehead against the hatch, then nodded, "All right. We need to vote, after all."
Jeanne let out a relieved sigh, "Yes. Are you voting Baltar?"
"No."
"But, Paulla--"
Opening the hatch, Paulla turned to the left and murmured, "You'll have time to convince me not to vote Roslin. But you'll have to be very persuasive."
"I can be," Jeanne assured her, keeping pace as they headed back to the hangar.
Paulla was looking forward to that. Elections or not, there was something to be said for holding onto what you had.
-f-
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Part of my own personal canon is that they were members of Gina's little group that wanted peace with the Cylons, as it makes perfect sense (and gives them more back story that isn't just "random women think Gaius is cute").
I really just need to write them something epic, I suppose. Sigh.