Fic: glasshouse
Title: glasshouse
Author: arenotvalid aka smercy
Rating: MA (hard smut)
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Characters: Starbuck, Leoben
Pairings: Kara/Leoben
Genre: pwp
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: I don't own "Battlestar Galactica" and I won't own "Battlestar Galactica" and I won't make any money from this.
Warnings: smut!
Word Count: about 1000
Status: one-shot, finished
Author's Note: originally written for oxoniensis's porn battle archived here, but the original version was too long and I had to shorten it to fit. this is the intended version.
Summary: get swept under
denial
-
In her apartment, her real apartment that had no bars on the doors and that she still couldn't escape, Leoben was gasping.
She had finished painting him ages ago, meaningless signs twisted all across his bare torso and none of them looked right. She wanted to scrape it off of him with her fingernails. In this time, she told him to stay put and he did. Kara could do whatever she wanted when his hands were crossed above his head like that, like some sort of debased religious symbol.
She could keep straddling him, start to grind, watch his face become vulnerable with arousal. He was panting, lips chapped and she had barely even touched him. When she scratched a few lines into his exposed neck, that was better.
Gods, the temperature in the apartment was so high, and she was so hot. Hot enough to peel off her skin, but she removed her clothes first. He did not help her, because she wouldn't let him, but he lay beneath her and made the most delicious faces.
Leoben wanted her so badly. He wanted to kiss and lick her all over; he wanted to frak her until they were screaming. His eyes were too bright, his hands were quivering. She loved to pin him down, hold him helpless to her, to watch him squirm and want.
He loved it too, but not enough to stay underneath her. And he threw his body upwards, suddenly, grabbing her by the shoulders and pinning her to the wall. It was so hard to keep from melting against him, the pressure of his mouth against her lips. He kissed her chastely and patiently, she wanted him to struggle and force the kiss from her. But he was too good, and she had to open her mouth against his and feel the pressure of him steadily increasing and increasing and harder between her legs. His mouth was not unkind.
Kara grabbed him by the hair, yanking him away and biting hard against his neck while she did it. He was pulled to her like a magnet, a frakking magnet, and then he twisted and she was on her back on the kitchen table. She banged her head against the top and cursed, and bit his tongue when he tried to use it to soothe away the pain. This was not comfort.
She turned, fighting him even when he wouldn't fight back, and slammed his hands against the table. Next, she artlessly removed his pants and bit at his hipbone while she did it. Sometimes, he made the prettiest little groans, especially when she straddled him and slid to the hilt in one rough gasp, not stopping to position herself or give him warning. Leoben's eyes were rolling back in his head, he loved it.
"Kara," he gasped, "Kara," until she began to devour the sounds from his mouth. She frakked him almost too hard, but the friction still wasn't enough. Her wrists were aching and his mouth was too tender.
His eyes hardened, just a little, and then his hands were all over her tits. Gods, he knew how to do that just the right way, but she hated him for it. The table was swaying and shaking under them, the cheap piece of shit. He moved one hand to the smallest part of her back, pushing her forward and guiding her faster. It still wasn't right, she was flushed and sweaty and not naked enough.
She switched the pace, plowing into him harder, ignoring the violent shakes in his hips. She was cursing now, almost unconsciously. "Frak, Leoben," and "I need you to frak me harder!"
And then the table broke, the cheap piece of shit. Legs gave way and the top splintered all under him in one big heap. She would've laughed if she wasn't so frakking frustrated, close enough to the edge that she couldn't stop and not close enough to touch it. This was a better position, Leoben all covered in bruises and scratches and paint, and the frakking bites, arching up to meet her.
He moved his hands to her tits again, and tried to slow the pace. "Frak, Leoben," she grunted, "Frak!"
"I know, Kara," he said. His voice was too frakking calm. She slammed up against him, harder. He wouldn't touch her roughly enough, kept the stroking just right and never too much.
She wanted to frak him until he broke right into tiny pieces, right underneath her. The broken bits of table were harsh against his back and he was bleeding and he still looked too tenderly at her, like this was some sort of holy act. "This is no sacred thing," she spat, "Does the table feel good on that back?"
"You feel so good, Kara," he moaned, twisting a nipple. She had to cry out too, the bastard.
And he switched his angle and suddenly her clit was right up against him and the friction was so frakking good. He looked like he could cry, he was so close. Kara wanted to frak all of the love out of those eyes and if she could just get it harder...
She leaned over to his mouth, but missed and bit his chin instead. "One of these days," she groaned, "I'm going to break you."
"Almost," Leoben sighed, "But not quite yet." She was going to break him into little tiny pieces and laugh while she watched him fracture. He kissed her neck, too tenderly. "And then it will be my turn."
Frak, she was so frakking close, too. He was crying little incomprehensible noises twisting his hips up just the right way and her clit was throbbing on him. He reached down to rub it, smugly grinning. And the friction was too good, she was almost there.
Almost.
-
Author: arenotvalid aka smercy
Rating: MA (hard smut)
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Characters: Starbuck, Leoben
Pairings: Kara/Leoben
Genre: pwp
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: I don't own "Battlestar Galactica" and I won't own "Battlestar Galactica" and I won't make any money from this.
Warnings: smut!
Word Count: about 1000
Status: one-shot, finished
Author's Note: originally written for oxoniensis's porn battle archived here, but the original version was too long and I had to shorten it to fit. this is the intended version.
Summary: get swept under
denial
-
In her apartment, her real apartment that had no bars on the doors and that she still couldn't escape, Leoben was gasping.
She had finished painting him ages ago, meaningless signs twisted all across his bare torso and none of them looked right. She wanted to scrape it off of him with her fingernails. In this time, she told him to stay put and he did. Kara could do whatever she wanted when his hands were crossed above his head like that, like some sort of debased religious symbol.
She could keep straddling him, start to grind, watch his face become vulnerable with arousal. He was panting, lips chapped and she had barely even touched him. When she scratched a few lines into his exposed neck, that was better.
Gods, the temperature in the apartment was so high, and she was so hot. Hot enough to peel off her skin, but she removed her clothes first. He did not help her, because she wouldn't let him, but he lay beneath her and made the most delicious faces.
Leoben wanted her so badly. He wanted to kiss and lick her all over; he wanted to frak her until they were screaming. His eyes were too bright, his hands were quivering. She loved to pin him down, hold him helpless to her, to watch him squirm and want.
He loved it too, but not enough to stay underneath her. And he threw his body upwards, suddenly, grabbing her by the shoulders and pinning her to the wall. It was so hard to keep from melting against him, the pressure of his mouth against her lips. He kissed her chastely and patiently, she wanted him to struggle and force the kiss from her. But he was too good, and she had to open her mouth against his and feel the pressure of him steadily increasing and increasing and harder between her legs. His mouth was not unkind.
Kara grabbed him by the hair, yanking him away and biting hard against his neck while she did it. He was pulled to her like a magnet, a frakking magnet, and then he twisted and she was on her back on the kitchen table. She banged her head against the top and cursed, and bit his tongue when he tried to use it to soothe away the pain. This was not comfort.
She turned, fighting him even when he wouldn't fight back, and slammed his hands against the table. Next, she artlessly removed his pants and bit at his hipbone while she did it. Sometimes, he made the prettiest little groans, especially when she straddled him and slid to the hilt in one rough gasp, not stopping to position herself or give him warning. Leoben's eyes were rolling back in his head, he loved it.
"Kara," he gasped, "Kara," until she began to devour the sounds from his mouth. She frakked him almost too hard, but the friction still wasn't enough. Her wrists were aching and his mouth was too tender.
His eyes hardened, just a little, and then his hands were all over her tits. Gods, he knew how to do that just the right way, but she hated him for it. The table was swaying and shaking under them, the cheap piece of shit. He moved one hand to the smallest part of her back, pushing her forward and guiding her faster. It still wasn't right, she was flushed and sweaty and not naked enough.
She switched the pace, plowing into him harder, ignoring the violent shakes in his hips. She was cursing now, almost unconsciously. "Frak, Leoben," and "I need you to frak me harder!"
And then the table broke, the cheap piece of shit. Legs gave way and the top splintered all under him in one big heap. She would've laughed if she wasn't so frakking frustrated, close enough to the edge that she couldn't stop and not close enough to touch it. This was a better position, Leoben all covered in bruises and scratches and paint, and the frakking bites, arching up to meet her.
He moved his hands to her tits again, and tried to slow the pace. "Frak, Leoben," she grunted, "Frak!"
"I know, Kara," he said. His voice was too frakking calm. She slammed up against him, harder. He wouldn't touch her roughly enough, kept the stroking just right and never too much.
She wanted to frak him until he broke right into tiny pieces, right underneath her. The broken bits of table were harsh against his back and he was bleeding and he still looked too tenderly at her, like this was some sort of holy act. "This is no sacred thing," she spat, "Does the table feel good on that back?"
"You feel so good, Kara," he moaned, twisting a nipple. She had to cry out too, the bastard.
And he switched his angle and suddenly her clit was right up against him and the friction was so frakking good. He looked like he could cry, he was so close. Kara wanted to frak all of the love out of those eyes and if she could just get it harder...
She leaned over to his mouth, but missed and bit his chin instead. "One of these days," she groaned, "I'm going to break you."
"Almost," Leoben sighed, "But not quite yet." She was going to break him into little tiny pieces and laugh while she watched him fracture. He kissed her neck, too tenderly. "And then it will be my turn."
Frak, she was so frakking close, too. He was crying little incomprehensible noises twisting his hips up just the right way and her clit was throbbing on him. He reached down to rub it, smugly grinning. And the friction was too good, she was almost there.
Almost.
-