BSG fic: 6 canon het ficlets
Canon het. 6 short porny bits (not at all connected to each other). Blame lyssie.
Lee/Dee
Kara/Lee (warning: set during their cheating period)
Kara/Sam
Chief/Boomer (pre-series)
Sharon/Helo (Galactica, during the New Caprica occupation; warning: emo)
Chief/Cally (New Caprica, pre occupation)
Sex is a quirky, quirky thing. Please to be understanding that these porny ficlets are also quirky, in part because they come from hasty writing. Just take them for what you will.
*Lee/Dee*
He fits his mouth to the curve of her shoulder, sliding lips against soft skin. Strange, he thinks, that she can be so soft and yet be so tough at the same time.
Earlier, when he'd been firmly on top of her, tracing circles around her nipples with his tongue, she'd suddenly thrown her whole weight into him, rolled him onto his back and sank down onto him. She couldn't have done it if he hadn't let her; she isn't that big or that strong. But seeing the look in her eyes made it impossible not to let her take over, although it didn't stop his hands from pulling at her as she loomed up over him, lithe and strong and in control.
At least she was, until he thrust his hips up a little harder than she'd bargained for. She closed her eyes and sighed out his name, so he kept on shoving himself up into her, into this tight heat that contracted and squeezed around him, purposeful, until the sigh became a squeak, then a moan.
She murmurs now, into the pillow, as he lets his tongue dart out to trace the line of her collarbone. "More," she says, "flyboy. Now."
*Kara/Lee*
She'd never frakked anybody in a raptor before. Not even in Academy. She'd thought about it, but never with another pilot. Certainly not with Lee. When she thought about that at all, before Zak, it was a big, fluffy bed over hours or quick and dirty against the side of a viper. She never thought about anything as functional and ordinary as a raptor. Of course, she never thought about it happening the way it did at all.
The sex was functional and ordinary, too, in a way. A good way, she thought. Shimmy out of her pants and underwear, wrestle with his zipper, straddle his lap and let him guide himself in. There was no mystery anymore to his dick and how it would fill her up. She didn't get off on the mere anticipation of it anymore, the shock of skin on skin. Not even the shock of sin.
But, still, she got off, and it was really, really good. It was work, but good work. He would bite her neck, say things to spur her on. She would give herself cramps in muscles she usually didn't pay attention to just to angle her hips the way he needed, shove him deep again and again. By the end, they would be grunting and pushing and swearing at each other, sometimes like it was the end of the world and sometimes like they knew exactly how ridiculous they were and they would have laughed if they could spare the air. They never could, not with this heat and tension and longing building up between them, so they held each other tight and panted into each other's ears and pressed, together, toward orgasm.
Hers usually snuck up on her, seeming to come on almost disappointingly easy until he would push and clutch just right and it would spike through her and she would forget, for a minute, that they were in a raptor at all.
*Kara/Sam*
She gets nervous when he goes down on her. He doesn't know why, but some women are like that. As if they can't enjoy taking without giving, or as if they can't take from someone who only wants to give.
She squirms and protests at first, all the more if he's stupid enough to say how much he wants to or likes to or needs to. He likes the taste of her on his tongue, her scent still on his skin in the morning. He likes the slick warmth of her flesh parting, the way it makes him impatient to just slide up her body again and thrust inside, even if he doesn't. It's just that he knows he could, that she wants him to.
But he thinks he likes it best that she protests it so much. It's like a victory to get her to settle down and let him do it. When she does, her fingers slide through his hair and she exhales these shallow breaths that only turn to moans when she's close. But the thing is, he's figured her out by now, how to keep her right there on the edge for so long she moans until she can't just do it vacantly anymore. She starts using words. When the words get desperate enough, or when she swears at him like he's trying to torment her, he makes her come.
The funniest thing is after, how she manages to make the whole thing seem like her idea, as if she chose to have his head between her legs, his tongue teasing at her mercilessly. But he lets her have her delusions of triumph. It makes her that much more likely to suddenly shove him onto his back and swallow him down.
*Chief/Boomer*
She comes into the nearly dark bunk room and finds him asleep. It's ridiculous the way he waits for her when she's on a long mission. She's honestly surprised he wasn't up on the deck, if he was that worried.
But it's not worry, though. If he's in her rack, she knows exactly what he wants, even with everyone else there around them, asleep. She makes a bet with herself about how long it will take to get him to admit it or just take it. It always takes a little coaxing. He's all rough hands and eyes lit up like fire when they frak in the storage room. But when things are quiet, he's almost a different man. It used to be bewildering, but now it's charming, and somehow not incongruous at all.
She slips out of everything but her panties and tanks and climbs up over the side and stretches out over him, slowly and without rocking the bunk too much. Her hands are already pushing up his shirt as she settles her hips firmly into his. He comes awake then, eyes focusing and refocusing in the dim light. Her finger goes to his lips to keep him from saying anything, but he's already slipping his hands up around her waist, under her tanks, palms seeking as much skin as he can find. His body does this amazing shift and squirm, and he's suddenly hard under her.
He whispers against her lips, "Missed you."
"Apparently," she replies, grinning.
When he raises his head off her pillow to kiss the smirk off her face, the one he can't see but knows is there, she lets him lead, and she's not surprised that he's all tongue, even half asleep. But her hands are already pulling at his waistband. For some reason, she's suddenly completely unwilling to wait for him to ask for what he wants. Instead, she works his pants down over his hips and closes her mouth over his as she takes him in hand, warning him with her tongue to be quiet.
*Sharon/Helo*
Compromises came quickly but in stages on Galactica after they abandoned New Caprica. Everyone's head was frakked up, and Adama found himself needing Sharon's advice and her steadying presence more than he ever had before. Who was he to argue if his XO did, too. But there were still rules, rules that now meant even more than they had, as long as they could be held onto. Not that they were held onto for long.
But Helo didn't mind the slow transition, not in the slightest; at least it was a change. He hadn't done more than hold her or kiss her since Caprica, and somewhere along the line, when he knew it wasn't just about the baby anymore, he'd come to terms with two things: wanting her desperately and knowing it might be a very long time before he could have her. He was a patient man, or at least unapologetically stubborn, so he'd contented himself with his right hand for a long time.
The first step was that they would let him in her cell with her. They could do what they dared with the guards watching, not that they did much. He could still see so many echoes of that earlier threat and trauma in her eyes, so much he wasn't sure if she'd ever want to do it again. But then one day after they locked him in the cell, one guard followed the other out the door and said, simply, fifteen. She didn't hesitate, and with that decisiveness, it probably took him less than three minutes to come, despite the squeaking cot and the clank of metal and the sudden nervousness that overtook him. Then he worried about her, how she hadn't even come close to getting off. When he said it to her, the words just pouring out of him, she burst into tears.
It turned out she was halfway laughing, actually. She should have told him, she said, how she'd learned weeks ago to come silently in the dark, long after lights out, after those times he's held her in his lap and pressed his lips to her ear, and she imagined the things he'd said and others he hadn't but she hoped he still wanted to. Of course, there was that part of her that was crying for real, because she hadn't quite believed until he was inside her again that it hadn't all been in her head. And she hadn't needed an orgasm to know it.
Still, he was glad-and he thought she was too-when fifteen became thirty.
*Chief/Cally*
He thinks there's something wrong with him, how he really, really likes frakking her now that she's pregnant and showing. Not that he didn't like it before, but this is…so different.
He always thought it was a frakkin' cliché, this thing about women glowing. But she does. Not in some angelic way, either. She glows all the time like she's just had a really good orgasm. Like she's sated and flushed and full and happy. He wonders if it's bad that it makes him so horny to think about how he made her that way. She's carrying his child, and that's why she glows like that.
He tries not to worry too much about it; she's noticed, and she thinks it's cute. Her noticing reminds him that despite the way he sees things, she's not actually walking around sated. Mostly, she's as ridiculously horny as he is. Worried about her body and nervous about doing it, but she can't keep her hands off him.
He tells her, one afternoon as they curl up in a spent tangle under a pile of blankets, that he thinks about how useless they would've been up on Galactica, if they'd been like this then, so in need of putting their hands on each other. She giggles and tells him some days she was. When he can wipe the shocked grin off his face, he parts her legs with his hands and ducks his head back under the blankets.
~
Lee/Dee
Kara/Lee (warning: set during their cheating period)
Kara/Sam
Chief/Boomer (pre-series)
Sharon/Helo (Galactica, during the New Caprica occupation; warning: emo)
Chief/Cally (New Caprica, pre occupation)
Sex is a quirky, quirky thing. Please to be understanding that these porny ficlets are also quirky, in part because they come from hasty writing. Just take them for what you will.
*Lee/Dee*
He fits his mouth to the curve of her shoulder, sliding lips against soft skin. Strange, he thinks, that she can be so soft and yet be so tough at the same time.
Earlier, when he'd been firmly on top of her, tracing circles around her nipples with his tongue, she'd suddenly thrown her whole weight into him, rolled him onto his back and sank down onto him. She couldn't have done it if he hadn't let her; she isn't that big or that strong. But seeing the look in her eyes made it impossible not to let her take over, although it didn't stop his hands from pulling at her as she loomed up over him, lithe and strong and in control.
At least she was, until he thrust his hips up a little harder than she'd bargained for. She closed her eyes and sighed out his name, so he kept on shoving himself up into her, into this tight heat that contracted and squeezed around him, purposeful, until the sigh became a squeak, then a moan.
She murmurs now, into the pillow, as he lets his tongue dart out to trace the line of her collarbone. "More," she says, "flyboy. Now."
*Kara/Lee*
She'd never frakked anybody in a raptor before. Not even in Academy. She'd thought about it, but never with another pilot. Certainly not with Lee. When she thought about that at all, before Zak, it was a big, fluffy bed over hours or quick and dirty against the side of a viper. She never thought about anything as functional and ordinary as a raptor. Of course, she never thought about it happening the way it did at all.
The sex was functional and ordinary, too, in a way. A good way, she thought. Shimmy out of her pants and underwear, wrestle with his zipper, straddle his lap and let him guide himself in. There was no mystery anymore to his dick and how it would fill her up. She didn't get off on the mere anticipation of it anymore, the shock of skin on skin. Not even the shock of sin.
But, still, she got off, and it was really, really good. It was work, but good work. He would bite her neck, say things to spur her on. She would give herself cramps in muscles she usually didn't pay attention to just to angle her hips the way he needed, shove him deep again and again. By the end, they would be grunting and pushing and swearing at each other, sometimes like it was the end of the world and sometimes like they knew exactly how ridiculous they were and they would have laughed if they could spare the air. They never could, not with this heat and tension and longing building up between them, so they held each other tight and panted into each other's ears and pressed, together, toward orgasm.
Hers usually snuck up on her, seeming to come on almost disappointingly easy until he would push and clutch just right and it would spike through her and she would forget, for a minute, that they were in a raptor at all.
*Kara/Sam*
She gets nervous when he goes down on her. He doesn't know why, but some women are like that. As if they can't enjoy taking without giving, or as if they can't take from someone who only wants to give.
She squirms and protests at first, all the more if he's stupid enough to say how much he wants to or likes to or needs to. He likes the taste of her on his tongue, her scent still on his skin in the morning. He likes the slick warmth of her flesh parting, the way it makes him impatient to just slide up her body again and thrust inside, even if he doesn't. It's just that he knows he could, that she wants him to.
But he thinks he likes it best that she protests it so much. It's like a victory to get her to settle down and let him do it. When she does, her fingers slide through his hair and she exhales these shallow breaths that only turn to moans when she's close. But the thing is, he's figured her out by now, how to keep her right there on the edge for so long she moans until she can't just do it vacantly anymore. She starts using words. When the words get desperate enough, or when she swears at him like he's trying to torment her, he makes her come.
The funniest thing is after, how she manages to make the whole thing seem like her idea, as if she chose to have his head between her legs, his tongue teasing at her mercilessly. But he lets her have her delusions of triumph. It makes her that much more likely to suddenly shove him onto his back and swallow him down.
*Chief/Boomer*
She comes into the nearly dark bunk room and finds him asleep. It's ridiculous the way he waits for her when she's on a long mission. She's honestly surprised he wasn't up on the deck, if he was that worried.
But it's not worry, though. If he's in her rack, she knows exactly what he wants, even with everyone else there around them, asleep. She makes a bet with herself about how long it will take to get him to admit it or just take it. It always takes a little coaxing. He's all rough hands and eyes lit up like fire when they frak in the storage room. But when things are quiet, he's almost a different man. It used to be bewildering, but now it's charming, and somehow not incongruous at all.
She slips out of everything but her panties and tanks and climbs up over the side and stretches out over him, slowly and without rocking the bunk too much. Her hands are already pushing up his shirt as she settles her hips firmly into his. He comes awake then, eyes focusing and refocusing in the dim light. Her finger goes to his lips to keep him from saying anything, but he's already slipping his hands up around her waist, under her tanks, palms seeking as much skin as he can find. His body does this amazing shift and squirm, and he's suddenly hard under her.
He whispers against her lips, "Missed you."
"Apparently," she replies, grinning.
When he raises his head off her pillow to kiss the smirk off her face, the one he can't see but knows is there, she lets him lead, and she's not surprised that he's all tongue, even half asleep. But her hands are already pulling at his waistband. For some reason, she's suddenly completely unwilling to wait for him to ask for what he wants. Instead, she works his pants down over his hips and closes her mouth over his as she takes him in hand, warning him with her tongue to be quiet.
*Sharon/Helo*
Compromises came quickly but in stages on Galactica after they abandoned New Caprica. Everyone's head was frakked up, and Adama found himself needing Sharon's advice and her steadying presence more than he ever had before. Who was he to argue if his XO did, too. But there were still rules, rules that now meant even more than they had, as long as they could be held onto. Not that they were held onto for long.
But Helo didn't mind the slow transition, not in the slightest; at least it was a change. He hadn't done more than hold her or kiss her since Caprica, and somewhere along the line, when he knew it wasn't just about the baby anymore, he'd come to terms with two things: wanting her desperately and knowing it might be a very long time before he could have her. He was a patient man, or at least unapologetically stubborn, so he'd contented himself with his right hand for a long time.
The first step was that they would let him in her cell with her. They could do what they dared with the guards watching, not that they did much. He could still see so many echoes of that earlier threat and trauma in her eyes, so much he wasn't sure if she'd ever want to do it again. But then one day after they locked him in the cell, one guard followed the other out the door and said, simply, fifteen. She didn't hesitate, and with that decisiveness, it probably took him less than three minutes to come, despite the squeaking cot and the clank of metal and the sudden nervousness that overtook him. Then he worried about her, how she hadn't even come close to getting off. When he said it to her, the words just pouring out of him, she burst into tears.
It turned out she was halfway laughing, actually. She should have told him, she said, how she'd learned weeks ago to come silently in the dark, long after lights out, after those times he's held her in his lap and pressed his lips to her ear, and she imagined the things he'd said and others he hadn't but she hoped he still wanted to. Of course, there was that part of her that was crying for real, because she hadn't quite believed until he was inside her again that it hadn't all been in her head. And she hadn't needed an orgasm to know it.
Still, he was glad-and he thought she was too-when fifteen became thirty.
*Chief/Cally*
He thinks there's something wrong with him, how he really, really likes frakking her now that she's pregnant and showing. Not that he didn't like it before, but this is…so different.
He always thought it was a frakkin' cliché, this thing about women glowing. But she does. Not in some angelic way, either. She glows all the time like she's just had a really good orgasm. Like she's sated and flushed and full and happy. He wonders if it's bad that it makes him so horny to think about how he made her that way. She's carrying his child, and that's why she glows like that.
He tries not to worry too much about it; she's noticed, and she thinks it's cute. Her noticing reminds him that despite the way he sees things, she's not actually walking around sated. Mostly, she's as ridiculously horny as he is. Worried about her body and nervous about doing it, but she can't keep her hands off him.
He tells her, one afternoon as they curl up in a spent tangle under a pile of blankets, that he thinks about how useless they would've been up on Galactica, if they'd been like this then, so in need of putting their hands on each other. She giggles and tells him some days she was. When he can wipe the shocked grin off his face, he parts her legs with his hands and ducks his head back under the blankets.
~