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Sigh. Y'know.... never mind. Anyway. Theftimicated from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
liminalliz
Write something for me. Just for me. Post it in your journal so everyone else can see it, too. A sentence, a paragraph. Nanofiction. Short story. A scene, dialogue, a picture described, a moment, anything. Long or short. But it's got to be just for me. Tell the world you wrote it for me, even. Mine.
Then feel free to put this up in your own journal, and I'll reciprocate
So, I give you, two pieces. In fact. *glares towards Texas*
These're written expressly for:liminalliz and have, well, no redeeming value. Probably. First is Atlantis OT3 (Shep/Weir/Telya), second is... Han Solo (and so that one's my own fault for lookin' at my Hammond and Jack icon, but, still...)
She's unsure how they got here. How it changed from being about him and her (and her and him and her and her, and there are way too many pronouns in this situation) into being about them.
She thinks it started when they both realized how 'free' the Athosians were with their affection.
But it could have--had to have--started before then. Back when she found Teyla in her quarters and they both gave in to the strange attraction. Two smart and powerful women, and fingers and lips and tongues (what wasn't to like).
She likes to feel Teyla beneath her as he fucks her from behind. The positions are occasionally reversed, but she likes feeling both in control and subservient (she's sure some therapist would have a field day with her, now). Maybe it's simply because Simon would never have done this to her. Not that she thinks about him often (only when she's sated and she can here Teyla crying out with Sheppard buried inside of her).
There are differences in the way they react. Teyla is louder and more free with her movements. Elizabeth knows her own restraint is the product of a hundred years (or more) of repression and breeding, but doesn't care. John seems to vary, sometimes loud and raunchy, sometimes soft and quiet, at times tender. Almost as if he doesn't want to believe he's doing this.
She sometimes doesn't believe she's doing this.
======
"Captain Solo."
He grumbled, but turned to face the woman who had called his name. "Mon Mothma." He said, voice curt.
"You have done us a great service, Captain." She met his eyes, her own dark brown ones grave. "For this, we would reward you."
"Hey, your princess already--"
She cut him off. "Yes. However, if there is anything else?" There was a delicate tilt to her eyebrow.
He blinked at her, glanced around the corridor, then met her eyes. "Anything?"
"Within reason."
Damn. "Never mind, then." He turned to go.
"Without reason, what would you have requested?"
The truth seemed a bad idea. "Slave girls."
"Ah." Mon Mothma moved to stand in front of him again, her eyes searching his face. A slight smile touched her lips. "I'm afraid Leia is required here."
"Now, I didn't say I wanted her. She's annoying and irritating and cantankerous and--"
"Yes." The smile blossomed. "I'll let you get to your ship, Captain. Fair trading."
Whatever that meant. "Fair--uh, yeah. Good luck with the whole rebellion thing."
She tipped her head, "Thank you," and walked past him back to the command center.
For a moment, he stood there in the hall, mulling ot over. Fair trade. Bah. And--yeah. Slave girls was the better proposition. Definitely.
liminallizWrite something for me. Just for me. Post it in your journal so everyone else can see it, too. A sentence, a paragraph. Nanofiction. Short story. A scene, dialogue, a picture described, a moment, anything. Long or short. But it's got to be just for me. Tell the world you wrote it for me, even. Mine.
Then feel free to put this up in your own journal, and I'll reciprocate
So, I give you, two pieces. In fact. *glares towards Texas*
These're written expressly for:
liminalliz and have, well, no redeeming value. Probably. First is Atlantis OT3 (Shep/Weir/Telya), second is... Han Solo (and so that one's my own fault for lookin' at my Hammond and Jack icon, but, still...)She's unsure how they got here. How it changed from being about him and her (and her and him and her and her, and there are way too many pronouns in this situation) into being about them.
She thinks it started when they both realized how 'free' the Athosians were with their affection.
But it could have--had to have--started before then. Back when she found Teyla in her quarters and they both gave in to the strange attraction. Two smart and powerful women, and fingers and lips and tongues (what wasn't to like).
She likes to feel Teyla beneath her as he fucks her from behind. The positions are occasionally reversed, but she likes feeling both in control and subservient (she's sure some therapist would have a field day with her, now). Maybe it's simply because Simon would never have done this to her. Not that she thinks about him often (only when she's sated and she can here Teyla crying out with Sheppard buried inside of her).
There are differences in the way they react. Teyla is louder and more free with her movements. Elizabeth knows her own restraint is the product of a hundred years (or more) of repression and breeding, but doesn't care. John seems to vary, sometimes loud and raunchy, sometimes soft and quiet, at times tender. Almost as if he doesn't want to believe he's doing this.
She sometimes doesn't believe she's doing this.
======
"Captain Solo."
He grumbled, but turned to face the woman who had called his name. "Mon Mothma." He said, voice curt.
"You have done us a great service, Captain." She met his eyes, her own dark brown ones grave. "For this, we would reward you."
"Hey, your princess already--"
She cut him off. "Yes. However, if there is anything else?" There was a delicate tilt to her eyebrow.
He blinked at her, glanced around the corridor, then met her eyes. "Anything?"
"Within reason."
Damn. "Never mind, then." He turned to go.
"Without reason, what would you have requested?"
The truth seemed a bad idea. "Slave girls."
"Ah." Mon Mothma moved to stand in front of him again, her eyes searching his face. A slight smile touched her lips. "I'm afraid Leia is required here."
"Now, I didn't say I wanted her. She's annoying and irritating and cantankerous and--"
"Yes." The smile blossomed. "I'll let you get to your ship, Captain. Fair trading."
Whatever that meant. "Fair--uh, yeah. Good luck with the whole rebellion thing."
She tipped her head, "Thank you," and walked past him back to the command center.
For a moment, he stood there in the hall, mulling ot over. Fair trade. Bah. And--yeah. Slave girls was the better proposition. Definitely.
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Han: Shit! Leia! God...I can't keep the two of your straight. Fuckin' twins.
Luke: Leia, get over yourself and join us.
Leia: That's just wrong, isn't it?
Luke: You kissed me first.
Han: Oh this is hot.
Leia: Oh, the two of you are INSUFFERABLE.
Han: Luke?
Luke: Yeah?
Han: Do something about this.
*Luke lifts Leia in the air and floats her towards them*
Leia: YOU JEDI WHORE!
*Han pulls her out of the air to topple on top of them*
Han: This is more like it.
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