Fic: Of Human Connection (Battlestar Galactica)
Pairing: Doral/Jammer
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: through the webisodes between S2 and S3.
Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine.
Notes: The super-abridged version of this fic was made for the Porn Battle. This one, however, is much longer.
Summary: It starts as an experiment.
- - -
It starts as an experiment.
They’ve done this before, of course. It worked then; they know it will work now. The resistance must be stopped. The only way to do that is to root out the leadership and destroy it. The only way to do that is through the identified members of the group.
It’s a clear train of logic.
Torture hasn’t worked. It’s an ineffective technique, or so they’ve learned. It produces faulty information. Induces resentment in the subject. Their goal, they’ve decided, shouldn’t be to make enemies.
They used this once before, on Karl ‘Helo’ Agathon. It wasn’t for precisely the same purpose, but the technique was effective. It will be effective again.
- - - -
Doral steels himself against the pain.
It’s not as bad as he expects. He’s resurrected before, and the horrific snap, the shock, the adjustment was much worse than this. He remembers the pain of resurrection in his bones, in the depths of his mind. When he dreams. This, he’ll feel now. But his body can heal.
He flinches away from a blow, a Three, hitting him with enough force to bruise, not enough to break.
“Is that enough?” asks Doral.
Three considers, her mouth twisting. “No,” she decides, finally, and Doral steels himself.
- - - -
Jammer is arrested quietly, vanishing, in the middle of the night. They take him by surprise; don’t give him the chance to struggle.
The cell is dark, lit by a flickering bulb, at the end of a long, blank hallway. There’s only one other cell; the one next to him, separated from his by twelve vertical bars.
Jammer shivers; he sits back on the cot, wonders what he’s going to do.
- - - -
Doral falls into the cell, impacts too hard with the stone ground. He can hear Jammer’s breathing, the hitch of concern, or confusion. Of interest.
Doral keeps still as the centurions retreat, stirs, vaguely, after the door slams shut. Lifts his head.
Jammer hisses in a breath - recognition, this time.
To his surprise, Doral doesn’t want to move. The injuries hurt more, now, a kind of throbbing, distracting pain that he can’t push to the back of his mind. He curls, in the corner of the cell, willing his body numb.
“Why are you here?” asks Jammer, finally.
Doral turns away; doesn’t answer.
- - - -
“Are you ever going to tell me what you did?” asks Jammer, leaning back against the wall. “Or should I just give up now?”
The Cylon looks down. “The worst thing I could do,” he says, in a murmur. “Betrayal.”
Jammer is immediately, fatally curious. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” And the Cylon huddles closer into himself, torn, lost.
Jammer is entranced, from that moment.
- - - -
Doral believed that the humans didn’t care, about even their own kind. The behavior from Jammer is unexpectedly quick, effortless, on Doral’s part. And it appears to be genuinely motivated.
It changes things.
- - - -
Their first kiss is sooner than Doral expects; it’s startling, startling and inevitable, all at once. They kiss through the bars, and Jammer’s lips are gentle on Doral’s, and his hand cups Doral’s cheek - a light touch to the bruise, not hard enough to hurt. Just soft enough to soothe.
Doral’s heart is pounding when they move apart. He’s never experienced this before - he’s lost, floundering. He thought he could handle it, and suddenly, he can’t.
But now - now it’s too late.
Jammer reaches through the bars, draws Doral closer, again, and Doral wants it so badly he thinks he might die from it.
- - - -
The Cylons aren’t in the habit of installing security cameras, not where there’s one of their own to observe, and Doral is obscurely grateful for this, in the heat, the fire of this moment.
Jammer’s hand, though the bars, is down Doral’s roughened, torn prison uniform, Doral’s head resting against Jammer’s shoulder. Doral’s soft, pained moans, his gasping, shuddering breathing, fill the quiet space of the prison cell.
His hips thrust, beyond his control, into the even, just-a-little-too-slow rhythm of Jammer’s hand. They’re in separate cells, so much between them, and yet there’s nothing between them at all, just skin, and barely even that.
He doesn’t realize he’s gripping Jammer’s arm so hard; not until Jammer untangles his fingers. “You’ve never done this before?”
Doral shakes his head, and he knows, to his shame, that there’s emotion staining his eyes. Grief, maybe, over the betrayal to come. Of revealing to Jammer his real role here. Or maybe, maybe it’s something completely different, completely alien to the machine-born Cylons.
“Sssh.” Jammer strokes his cheek. “It’s gonna be fine. It’ll be fine.”
It’s what Jammer thinks Doral needs; and, to Doral’s surprise, he hardens into Jammer’s palm, muffles whimper into the cloth of Jammer’s shirt.
The climax jerks him from the inside out - destroys his control over his body, twist him apart, and he finally understand why humans seek this out. Why they need it, why they fight for it, why every aspect of their lives is controlled by the desperation of this connection.
Jammer kisses Doral, now, and one of the cell bars digs into Doral’s cheek, into his bruise, but he can’t bring himself to care. He just wants to be here, to be with Jammer, until time stops. Until the world ends.
- - - -
Doral will die for his betrayal of the Cylons.
He knows this. He doesn’t care.
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: through the webisodes between S2 and S3.
Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine.
Notes: The super-abridged version of this fic was made for the Porn Battle. This one, however, is much longer.
Summary: It starts as an experiment.
- - -
It starts as an experiment.
They’ve done this before, of course. It worked then; they know it will work now. The resistance must be stopped. The only way to do that is to root out the leadership and destroy it. The only way to do that is through the identified members of the group.
It’s a clear train of logic.
Torture hasn’t worked. It’s an ineffective technique, or so they’ve learned. It produces faulty information. Induces resentment in the subject. Their goal, they’ve decided, shouldn’t be to make enemies.
They used this once before, on Karl ‘Helo’ Agathon. It wasn’t for precisely the same purpose, but the technique was effective. It will be effective again.
- - - -
Doral steels himself against the pain.
It’s not as bad as he expects. He’s resurrected before, and the horrific snap, the shock, the adjustment was much worse than this. He remembers the pain of resurrection in his bones, in the depths of his mind. When he dreams. This, he’ll feel now. But his body can heal.
He flinches away from a blow, a Three, hitting him with enough force to bruise, not enough to break.
“Is that enough?” asks Doral.
Three considers, her mouth twisting. “No,” she decides, finally, and Doral steels himself.
- - - -
Jammer is arrested quietly, vanishing, in the middle of the night. They take him by surprise; don’t give him the chance to struggle.
The cell is dark, lit by a flickering bulb, at the end of a long, blank hallway. There’s only one other cell; the one next to him, separated from his by twelve vertical bars.
Jammer shivers; he sits back on the cot, wonders what he’s going to do.
- - - -
Doral falls into the cell, impacts too hard with the stone ground. He can hear Jammer’s breathing, the hitch of concern, or confusion. Of interest.
Doral keeps still as the centurions retreat, stirs, vaguely, after the door slams shut. Lifts his head.
Jammer hisses in a breath - recognition, this time.
To his surprise, Doral doesn’t want to move. The injuries hurt more, now, a kind of throbbing, distracting pain that he can’t push to the back of his mind. He curls, in the corner of the cell, willing his body numb.
“Why are you here?” asks Jammer, finally.
Doral turns away; doesn’t answer.
- - - -
“Are you ever going to tell me what you did?” asks Jammer, leaning back against the wall. “Or should I just give up now?”
The Cylon looks down. “The worst thing I could do,” he says, in a murmur. “Betrayal.”
Jammer is immediately, fatally curious. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” And the Cylon huddles closer into himself, torn, lost.
Jammer is entranced, from that moment.
- - - -
Doral believed that the humans didn’t care, about even their own kind. The behavior from Jammer is unexpectedly quick, effortless, on Doral’s part. And it appears to be genuinely motivated.
It changes things.
- - - -
Their first kiss is sooner than Doral expects; it’s startling, startling and inevitable, all at once. They kiss through the bars, and Jammer’s lips are gentle on Doral’s, and his hand cups Doral’s cheek - a light touch to the bruise, not hard enough to hurt. Just soft enough to soothe.
Doral’s heart is pounding when they move apart. He’s never experienced this before - he’s lost, floundering. He thought he could handle it, and suddenly, he can’t.
But now - now it’s too late.
Jammer reaches through the bars, draws Doral closer, again, and Doral wants it so badly he thinks he might die from it.
- - - -
The Cylons aren’t in the habit of installing security cameras, not where there’s one of their own to observe, and Doral is obscurely grateful for this, in the heat, the fire of this moment.
Jammer’s hand, though the bars, is down Doral’s roughened, torn prison uniform, Doral’s head resting against Jammer’s shoulder. Doral’s soft, pained moans, his gasping, shuddering breathing, fill the quiet space of the prison cell.
His hips thrust, beyond his control, into the even, just-a-little-too-slow rhythm of Jammer’s hand. They’re in separate cells, so much between them, and yet there’s nothing between them at all, just skin, and barely even that.
He doesn’t realize he’s gripping Jammer’s arm so hard; not until Jammer untangles his fingers. “You’ve never done this before?”
Doral shakes his head, and he knows, to his shame, that there’s emotion staining his eyes. Grief, maybe, over the betrayal to come. Of revealing to Jammer his real role here. Or maybe, maybe it’s something completely different, completely alien to the machine-born Cylons.
“Sssh.” Jammer strokes his cheek. “It’s gonna be fine. It’ll be fine.”
It’s what Jammer thinks Doral needs; and, to Doral’s surprise, he hardens into Jammer’s palm, muffles whimper into the cloth of Jammer’s shirt.
The climax jerks him from the inside out - destroys his control over his body, twist him apart, and he finally understand why humans seek this out. Why they need it, why they fight for it, why every aspect of their lives is controlled by the desperation of this connection.
Jammer kisses Doral, now, and one of the cell bars digs into Doral’s cheek, into his bruise, but he can’t bring himself to care. He just wants to be here, to be with Jammer, until time stops. Until the world ends.
- - - -
Doral will die for his betrayal of the Cylons.
He knows this. He doesn’t care.