However you want it lover lover gonna tap that ass soon
Title: I Gotta Know
Characters: Kara "Starbuck" Thrace, Samuel T. Anders, Cmdr. Bill "Husker" Adama, Jean Barolay, DJ Nita, Michael Davis
Time Period: The wedding reception no one wanted to miss.
Summary: Sam sings What's Your Fantasy? to Kara on the rooftop deck.
The slow song trailed to its end. Kara beamed at Bill, who’d asked her to dance with him; her former commander was a courteous dancer, gently leading her across the floor. “Good night, Starbuck, and congratulations to you and Sam,” the old man said. He kissed her cheek and patted her on the shoulder. “Bedtime for this geezer.”
“Thanks for coming, Bill. Please give my regards to your family,” Kara said politely, mock-saluting him. As Bill headed out, she glanced around, idly sipping a glass of champagne she’d snagged from a nearby server. The partygoers had dwindled down to a narrow age range; anyone old enough or young enough for an early bedtime had left, and the remaining guests were her and Sam’s smaller circle of friends. The votive candles at each table had guttered out. Karl had zoomed off before and hadn’t seen him since; her best friend was surely off banging some hottie in his swanky top-floor suite. Kara snickered and bit into the strawberry floating in her glass as she scanned the room for her husband (“my husband,” she said happily to herself). She heard his laughter nearby and turned to spot him at the iced seafood station with a martini in one hand and a giant craw claw in the other. He was flanked by his flame-haired buddy Jean and her old shipmates Skulls and Racetrack.
Kara grinned and ran a finger down the inked wing on her arm, then headed to the DJ’s table. Their spinmaster leaned over and tugged her headphones away from her ears. She was a friend of Karl’s from his DJ Helo days; she suspected he and the gorgeous woman had hooked up during his teenage Kyros Summerfest years, though she’d never asked. “Time to move it up, Nita!” They winked at each other, Kara’s hazel eyes meeting Nita’s brown eyes in anticipation.
“Alright everybody,” the DJ called into the microphone at her table. "Let's get ready! Let’s do this right!” Kara put her hand on her hip and sashayed up to the little group, hip-checking Racetrack into Skulls and snorting with laughter. Everyone’s eyes turned to her and she pretended to curtsy. Sam’s eyes lit up and his dimples widened. “Let's move this party to the rooooooooooof!” Nita crooned. A disco ball started spinning overhead. Kara grabbed Sam’s hand and licked her lips, then turned back to their friends. “Guys, let’s show these civvies a good time!”
Sam followed Kara out of the ballroom, his long fingers wrapped around hers. “Well, Mrs. Anders, you continue to surprise me,” he chuckled, the laugh lines around his eyes deepening. He started humming "Butterfly” as she tapped the elevator button to take them to the rooftop deck. She raised an eyebrow and pulled him into the elevator, not bothering to wait for it to close before she closed her eyes and pulled him in for a kiss. He tasted of spicy lime and ginger; she pressed him into the wall, feeling him harden as she slid a bare knee between his legs. “Gonna frak you all night, baby,” she murmured into his mouth.
He opened his eyes and smiled crookedly as the elevator door opened with a ping behind her. His eyes were glazed with drunken lust. For a wild moment, she considered skipping the surprise she’d planned, but-no. It was too good. Helo was going to be sorry he'd missed it (she'd give him some hell about that later).
They walked out of the elevator together, Kara smoothing down the skirt of her dress. They were surrounded by gleaming, dark-lit glass and steel buildings. The rooftop deck was illuminated by lanterns, buckets of ambrosia and shot glasses at each table. Sam’s assistant, Michael, appeared at his side, holding a guitar.
“Here you go, Sam!” the young man handed it over. Sam dropped Kara’s hand and laughed in delight. “Didn’t see this coming, baby,” he said to her, kissing her cheek. She grinned and nodded at Michael, who moved away to join the exuberant crowd of Sam’s former assistants nearby. They started a chant: “Samders! Samders!” before breaking off to whoop in excitement.
Sam draped the guitar strap over his neck and strummed the chords softly as he walked. “Hey everybody,” he spoke into the microphone they’d set up for him. “Thanks for coming to party with me and my lady. It wouldn’t be the same without you. ” He grabbed a bottle of ambrosia from the nearest table and lifted it. Their friends quickly poured shots and followed suit. “She’s a hotshot in the sky and she’s the love of my life. To Kara!” He raised the bottle and tossed back a deep swallow. Glasses clinked. “To Starbuck and Sam!” “Thrace-Anders forever!”
Racetrack elbowed Kara. “Hey, we’re good,” the brunette whispered. “Skulls is over there.” She pointed at their fellow muscled jock as he pointed his phone towards the groom.
“Sing for me, hot stuff. Give it to me now!” Kara called out, whistling and clapping loudly. The deck erupted in raucous cheers as everyone shouted words of encouragement. “YOU GOTTA DO IT, T!” Jean yelled.
“If you insist,” Sam responded, grinning widely, then clearing his throat. Kara nodded to Skulls and a small red light appeared at the corner of his phone; the recording had begun. Sam paused and rolled up his shirt sleeves to the elbow. “Well, friends, you’re in for it now. Blame my hot wife for this.” He thumped the guitar for emphasis, then began singing. “I wanna, li-li-li-lick you from yo' head to yo' toes/ And I wanna, move from the bed down to the down to the to the flo’…”
Characters: Kara "Starbuck" Thrace, Samuel T. Anders, Cmdr. Bill "Husker" Adama, Jean Barolay, DJ Nita, Michael Davis
Time Period: The wedding reception no one wanted to miss.
Summary: Sam sings What's Your Fantasy? to Kara on the rooftop deck.
The slow song trailed to its end. Kara beamed at Bill, who’d asked her to dance with him; her former commander was a courteous dancer, gently leading her across the floor. “Good night, Starbuck, and congratulations to you and Sam,” the old man said. He kissed her cheek and patted her on the shoulder. “Bedtime for this geezer.”
“Thanks for coming, Bill. Please give my regards to your family,” Kara said politely, mock-saluting him. As Bill headed out, she glanced around, idly sipping a glass of champagne she’d snagged from a nearby server. The partygoers had dwindled down to a narrow age range; anyone old enough or young enough for an early bedtime had left, and the remaining guests were her and Sam’s smaller circle of friends. The votive candles at each table had guttered out. Karl had zoomed off before and hadn’t seen him since; her best friend was surely off banging some hottie in his swanky top-floor suite. Kara snickered and bit into the strawberry floating in her glass as she scanned the room for her husband (“my husband,” she said happily to herself). She heard his laughter nearby and turned to spot him at the iced seafood station with a martini in one hand and a giant craw claw in the other. He was flanked by his flame-haired buddy Jean and her old shipmates Skulls and Racetrack.
Kara grinned and ran a finger down the inked wing on her arm, then headed to the DJ’s table. Their spinmaster leaned over and tugged her headphones away from her ears. She was a friend of Karl’s from his DJ Helo days; she suspected he and the gorgeous woman had hooked up during his teenage Kyros Summerfest years, though she’d never asked. “Time to move it up, Nita!” They winked at each other, Kara’s hazel eyes meeting Nita’s brown eyes in anticipation.
“Alright everybody,” the DJ called into the microphone at her table. "Let's get ready! Let’s do this right!” Kara put her hand on her hip and sashayed up to the little group, hip-checking Racetrack into Skulls and snorting with laughter. Everyone’s eyes turned to her and she pretended to curtsy. Sam’s eyes lit up and his dimples widened. “Let's move this party to the rooooooooooof!” Nita crooned. A disco ball started spinning overhead. Kara grabbed Sam’s hand and licked her lips, then turned back to their friends. “Guys, let’s show these civvies a good time!”
Sam followed Kara out of the ballroom, his long fingers wrapped around hers. “Well, Mrs. Anders, you continue to surprise me,” he chuckled, the laugh lines around his eyes deepening. He started humming "Butterfly” as she tapped the elevator button to take them to the rooftop deck. She raised an eyebrow and pulled him into the elevator, not bothering to wait for it to close before she closed her eyes and pulled him in for a kiss. He tasted of spicy lime and ginger; she pressed him into the wall, feeling him harden as she slid a bare knee between his legs. “Gonna frak you all night, baby,” she murmured into his mouth.
He opened his eyes and smiled crookedly as the elevator door opened with a ping behind her. His eyes were glazed with drunken lust. For a wild moment, she considered skipping the surprise she’d planned, but-no. It was too good. Helo was going to be sorry he'd missed it (she'd give him some hell about that later).
They walked out of the elevator together, Kara smoothing down the skirt of her dress. They were surrounded by gleaming, dark-lit glass and steel buildings. The rooftop deck was illuminated by lanterns, buckets of ambrosia and shot glasses at each table. Sam’s assistant, Michael, appeared at his side, holding a guitar.
“Here you go, Sam!” the young man handed it over. Sam dropped Kara’s hand and laughed in delight. “Didn’t see this coming, baby,” he said to her, kissing her cheek. She grinned and nodded at Michael, who moved away to join the exuberant crowd of Sam’s former assistants nearby. They started a chant: “Samders! Samders!” before breaking off to whoop in excitement.
Sam draped the guitar strap over his neck and strummed the chords softly as he walked. “Hey everybody,” he spoke into the microphone they’d set up for him. “Thanks for coming to party with me and my lady. It wouldn’t be the same without you. ” He grabbed a bottle of ambrosia from the nearest table and lifted it. Their friends quickly poured shots and followed suit. “She’s a hotshot in the sky and she’s the love of my life. To Kara!” He raised the bottle and tossed back a deep swallow. Glasses clinked. “To Starbuck and Sam!” “Thrace-Anders forever!”
Racetrack elbowed Kara. “Hey, we’re good,” the brunette whispered. “Skulls is over there.” She pointed at their fellow muscled jock as he pointed his phone towards the groom.
“Sing for me, hot stuff. Give it to me now!” Kara called out, whistling and clapping loudly. The deck erupted in raucous cheers as everyone shouted words of encouragement. “YOU GOTTA DO IT, T!” Jean yelled.
“If you insist,” Sam responded, grinning widely, then clearing his throat. Kara nodded to Skulls and a small red light appeared at the corner of his phone; the recording had begun. Sam paused and rolled up his shirt sleeves to the elbow. “Well, friends, you’re in for it now. Blame my hot wife for this.” He thumped the guitar for emphasis, then began singing. “I wanna, li-li-li-lick you from yo' head to yo' toes/ And I wanna, move from the bed down to the down to the to the flo’…”