Fic: Shell Shocked
Title: Shell Shocked
Author: Davnee
Rating: MA
Pairing: Laura/Sam
Summary: It's a lifetime until tomorrow. Spoilers through Exodus.
Prompts: Again; Still alive
A/N: So the bsg_pornbattle gave me the perfect excuse to write a sequel to War Crimes, where I first paired up Laura and Sam. I cover a lot of the same territory in this fic but, eh, I was just looking for a reason to get those two frakking again. So sue me! Reading War Crimes first is not strictly necessary to understanding this one, you'll get the gist, but to be honest it is much pornier, so you can check it out here if you like.
The light in the tent was dim and cold, washed out like this planet she hoped to never see again after tomorrow. Her skin itched with excitement, a counterpoint to the bruises that had already begun to ache. Adrenaline. She’d cheated death again. Sooner or later she’d run out of lives, but she hoped it would not be until her people were safely delivered from this place. She would have never thought the harsh vacuum of space could be a comfort, but she longed to be back among the stars. Hard ground beneath your feet means nothing if it is hollow.
Laura moved quickly, knowing she could take nothing more than what she could hide beneath her coat. That was fine by her. There was nothing more here that she’d want anyway. Onto a rough cloth she placed a book, the one Bill had given her on his last visit, Elosha’s prayer beads, and Billy’s photo. She’d carry him with her always.
Pushing aside the trunk that held her meager wardrobe, she scraped away the dirt beneath that covered the hiding place for her journals, records of the occupation, stories of those who had resisted and those who had not. Harsh truths all.
Shaking away the dirt from the notepads, she carried them to the table, setting them alongside her most prized possessions. She was ready to pack them away until it would be safe to enjoy them again, until she could stop being the woman written in those pages and start being the woman they’d loved once more.
Her heart froze as she heard footsteps approaching her tent and the sound of the canvas flap flipping open. She held her breath, bracing for a death that might come sooner than she had even guessed, but let it out quickly again when she saw Sam enter, gun drawn, ready for anything.
“Thank gods you are still alive,” he breathed as he lowered his weapon.
“You scared me,” she barked as she turned her attention back to her things, her fingers thick, clumsy as she tried to bundle them into the piece of cloth.
“Good. You need to be scared. It’s dangerous for you to be here.” His voice was laced with frustration.
“It’s dangerous for me to be anywhere,” she snapped in return, her heart now climbing into her throat and sweat starting to prick along her brow and on the back of her neck. “If I’m still alive after tomorrow, I’ll worry about it.”
She didn’t have time to be scared. That’s what she’d told herself when she had slipped away from the rescue party as they began escorting the survivors of the execution order to safe hideouts in the tent city until Galactica arrived. She’d just needed her things. These things. She couldn’t bear to give them up. In fact, she refused to give them up. She’d suffered enough indignities courtesy of this hellhole.
As she ran a finger over the outline of the prayer beads, she tried to draw strength and focus from them. He’d interrupted her. Only a moment ago everything had made sense, but now she couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything. Everything just needed to stop. She just needed to breathe.
Sam shook his head as he crossed over to her, opening his mouth to lecture her further but suddenly closing it again as he drew closer. He could see her hands shaking, skin clammy, color draining away, her breathing now shallow. He set his gun down on the table and touched her shoulder, squeezing it lightly.
“Hey, it’s okay now,” he promised.
“No, I need to get this done,” she insisted, tears burning at the corner of her eyes. “We’ve got to hurry.” There was no time left. Change was coming. He was coming. She wanted so desperately to be ready. She flexed her hands, trying to make them work again so that she could secure the small pack with the length of rope that she’d set aside, but she could barely feel them.
Running his hand down her arm, he took her hand in his, warming it, before slipping behind her and wrapping his arms around her, massaging both her hands now. “Just breathe,” he ordered as he pressed his cheek against hers.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out quickly, embarrassed.
“Don’t be. I was pretty frakked up myself after my first firefight. Coming down off that high is tough.”
She took a deep breath and allowed herself to lean back into him. His solid chest was warm and reassuring against her back. “Thank you,” she whispered. It was crazy really. She’d looked down the barrel of a gun before, been shot at before, had her life on the line in a thousand different ways before, even died before, but something about this day had been different. Maybe she was just trying too hard. Maybe she was just all used up.
“No problem. Let me finish this for you,” he offered as he began wrapping the length of rope around the bundle, securing it tightly, her whole world safe inside.
Watching his hands bring order to the chaos, Laura leaned deeper into his embrace, feathering her fingers along his arms as he worked, trying to keep her tears from spilling. Her breath hitched as she fought it. She wasn’t winning.
“Easy,” Sam whispered in her ear, sparking her memory, as he tightened his arms around her, slipping one hand beneath the fabric of her shirt to draw light, soothing circles across her abdomen as she cried quietly.
He had remembered how she liked to be touched. It had only been a few days since their night together, but it seemed like a lifetime had passed in between. Then again every day on this planet since the machines had come had been a lifetime, and it would be another lifetime until tomorrow when they could finally run. For now the feel of him so close, his breath in her ear, excited her, fear ebbing away, that energy channeling into arousal, into remembering how to forget again. She dropped her head back against his shoulder and sighed, tears drying on her cheeks as her hips swayed with the aimless rhythm of his touch.
“More?” he breathed, kissing her cheek. It was both offer and question.
She reached down and stilled his hands, pressing his palms flat against her flesh, holding them there, letting them heat her skin, before guiding them downward, hooking his thumbs beneath the waistline of her pants. That was her answer.
Permission now granted, he nipped her ear and then unbuttoned her pants, slowly easing down the zipper as he began feathering her neck with gentle kisses, his soft stubble prickling her skin, pimpling it now with desire, the chill chased away. She could feel him hardening against her as she pressed her ass back into him, but he stopped her, placing his hands firmly on her hips and pushing her forward, creating a sliver of space between them.
“This is for you,” he told her as he slid his hands forward again, across her belly, before slipping them down beneath the soft cotton of her panties.
She was already wet for him, her body responding easily to his touch, desire coiling tighter inside her as he dragged his fingers through her curls, testing her readiness, knowing it wasn’t needed but teasing her anyway.
He pushed her pants and underwear down to her thighs and then cupped her ass, squeezing it lightly, punctuating that force with a tug of his teeth on her earlobe that drew a soft moan from her lips. Steadying her hip with one hand, he reached back around to stroke her again, trailing his fingers up and down through her folds, drawing slowly collapsing circles around her clit each time he started down again.
Throwing her head back against his shoulder with a throaty groan when he finally found his mark, she felt him brace himself against her, shoving a knee between her thighs to steady her and spread her legs further apart before plunging two fingers inside her. Releasing her hip, he ran his free hand under her shirt, slipping it beneath the cup of her bra, pinching at the hardened peak of her breast as he held her tight against his chest.
“Harder,” she begged, barely able to form the word between her panting breaths, causing him to pick up his pace.
Pumping his fingers deep inside her now, he continued to circle her clit with his thumb, alternating his rhythm and how and where he touched her, sometimes grinding his whole palm against her, keeping her off guard, making her wild with anticipation for what might come next.
Unable to hold on for long, she came with a loud cry, not even caring who or what might hear her outside. Danger suddenly felt very far away. Thighs quivering and knees weak, she melted into his embrace as he slipped his fingers out of her, soothing her with gentle kisses along her neck and shoulder, tongue swirling against her skin.
As she found her breath and her legs beneath her, she ground herself hard against him, feeling the proof of his own need. “More,” she whispered. Despite the quiet in her voice, there was no mistaking this as anything but a command. She wanted to stay lost.
“It isn’t safe to stay here any longer,” he told her, the ache in his own voice evident as she continued to circle her hips against him.
“It never has been.”
Whatever battle he was fighting between survival and need was settled quickly. Perhaps there had never really been a conflict. “Frak it,” he hissed, causing her to laugh.
But her saucy “please,” was punctuated by a gasp as he shoved her forward, bending her over the table, spilling her out over all the precious things from her past that she wanted the strength to carry away with her, spreading her again with his knee. She panted in anticipation as she heard him quickly lower his zipper. Grabbing her hips, he thrust into her without preamble. She was still so wet that he filled her easily.
She grabbed the sides of the table to anchor herself when she realized that he was going to frak her hard and fast, pounding into her from the moment he first hit bottom. That was fine by her, the harder the better. Each sharp burst of pain burned away more of her thoughts, until there was nothing left but the sounds of them grunting in time and the sweaty smack of their skin.
Digging the fingers of one hand into her hip with bruising force, he brought the other around to touch her roughly. “Gonna come,” he warned as his thrusts came even harder and he bit down on her shoulder.
She felt him stiffen against her back as he pressed his finger hard against her clit. That was enough to spark her release. “So good,” she cried.
“Yes,” he breathed into her skin, laving at the sweat slipping beneath her collar, as he felt her pulsing around his softening cock. Bending over her he wrapped his arms around her middle and brought her up with him as he straightened again, hugging her tight as he slipped out of her, their panting turning to hiccupping laughter as he nibbled her ear in the way he’d quickly learned would show him the Laura few ever got to see, the Laura that was not at war.
She turned in his arms and wrapped her own around his neck, drawing him in for a long, deep kiss. “Thank you, Sam,” she whispered when they finally broke apart.
He smiled as he lightly kissed away the salty tracks of dried tears on her cheeks, helping her in this last small way to reapply her mask. “Any time, Laura,” he told her.
But they both knew that was a lie. This was the last time, because tomorrow everything would change. Live or die, they were moving on. New wars to fight, and old comrades to fight them with.
He buttoned his pants and grabbed his gun as she crossed over to the cot and quickly cleaned herself with the corner of the bedsheet, not caring about the mess. She was never coming back here.
“Ready?” he asked.
When she turned to answer, she saw him holding her thick blue coat and her small pack. Grabbing the coat, she put it on and then slipped the bundle inside. As he zipped her jacket for her, she felt her most cherished things pressed tight against her breast. Everything she was fighting for. Solid. Close. Safe. As he guided her to the tent flap, gun drawn, she was ready to find her way back home.
Author: Davnee
Rating: MA
Pairing: Laura/Sam
Summary: It's a lifetime until tomorrow. Spoilers through Exodus.
Prompts: Again; Still alive
A/N: So the bsg_pornbattle gave me the perfect excuse to write a sequel to War Crimes, where I first paired up Laura and Sam. I cover a lot of the same territory in this fic but, eh, I was just looking for a reason to get those two frakking again. So sue me! Reading War Crimes first is not strictly necessary to understanding this one, you'll get the gist, but to be honest it is much pornier, so you can check it out here if you like.
The light in the tent was dim and cold, washed out like this planet she hoped to never see again after tomorrow. Her skin itched with excitement, a counterpoint to the bruises that had already begun to ache. Adrenaline. She’d cheated death again. Sooner or later she’d run out of lives, but she hoped it would not be until her people were safely delivered from this place. She would have never thought the harsh vacuum of space could be a comfort, but she longed to be back among the stars. Hard ground beneath your feet means nothing if it is hollow.
Laura moved quickly, knowing she could take nothing more than what she could hide beneath her coat. That was fine by her. There was nothing more here that she’d want anyway. Onto a rough cloth she placed a book, the one Bill had given her on his last visit, Elosha’s prayer beads, and Billy’s photo. She’d carry him with her always.
Pushing aside the trunk that held her meager wardrobe, she scraped away the dirt beneath that covered the hiding place for her journals, records of the occupation, stories of those who had resisted and those who had not. Harsh truths all.
Shaking away the dirt from the notepads, she carried them to the table, setting them alongside her most prized possessions. She was ready to pack them away until it would be safe to enjoy them again, until she could stop being the woman written in those pages and start being the woman they’d loved once more.
Her heart froze as she heard footsteps approaching her tent and the sound of the canvas flap flipping open. She held her breath, bracing for a death that might come sooner than she had even guessed, but let it out quickly again when she saw Sam enter, gun drawn, ready for anything.
“Thank gods you are still alive,” he breathed as he lowered his weapon.
“You scared me,” she barked as she turned her attention back to her things, her fingers thick, clumsy as she tried to bundle them into the piece of cloth.
“Good. You need to be scared. It’s dangerous for you to be here.” His voice was laced with frustration.
“It’s dangerous for me to be anywhere,” she snapped in return, her heart now climbing into her throat and sweat starting to prick along her brow and on the back of her neck. “If I’m still alive after tomorrow, I’ll worry about it.”
She didn’t have time to be scared. That’s what she’d told herself when she had slipped away from the rescue party as they began escorting the survivors of the execution order to safe hideouts in the tent city until Galactica arrived. She’d just needed her things. These things. She couldn’t bear to give them up. In fact, she refused to give them up. She’d suffered enough indignities courtesy of this hellhole.
As she ran a finger over the outline of the prayer beads, she tried to draw strength and focus from them. He’d interrupted her. Only a moment ago everything had made sense, but now she couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything. Everything just needed to stop. She just needed to breathe.
Sam shook his head as he crossed over to her, opening his mouth to lecture her further but suddenly closing it again as he drew closer. He could see her hands shaking, skin clammy, color draining away, her breathing now shallow. He set his gun down on the table and touched her shoulder, squeezing it lightly.
“Hey, it’s okay now,” he promised.
“No, I need to get this done,” she insisted, tears burning at the corner of her eyes. “We’ve got to hurry.” There was no time left. Change was coming. He was coming. She wanted so desperately to be ready. She flexed her hands, trying to make them work again so that she could secure the small pack with the length of rope that she’d set aside, but she could barely feel them.
Running his hand down her arm, he took her hand in his, warming it, before slipping behind her and wrapping his arms around her, massaging both her hands now. “Just breathe,” he ordered as he pressed his cheek against hers.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out quickly, embarrassed.
“Don’t be. I was pretty frakked up myself after my first firefight. Coming down off that high is tough.”
She took a deep breath and allowed herself to lean back into him. His solid chest was warm and reassuring against her back. “Thank you,” she whispered. It was crazy really. She’d looked down the barrel of a gun before, been shot at before, had her life on the line in a thousand different ways before, even died before, but something about this day had been different. Maybe she was just trying too hard. Maybe she was just all used up.
“No problem. Let me finish this for you,” he offered as he began wrapping the length of rope around the bundle, securing it tightly, her whole world safe inside.
Watching his hands bring order to the chaos, Laura leaned deeper into his embrace, feathering her fingers along his arms as he worked, trying to keep her tears from spilling. Her breath hitched as she fought it. She wasn’t winning.
“Easy,” Sam whispered in her ear, sparking her memory, as he tightened his arms around her, slipping one hand beneath the fabric of her shirt to draw light, soothing circles across her abdomen as she cried quietly.
He had remembered how she liked to be touched. It had only been a few days since their night together, but it seemed like a lifetime had passed in between. Then again every day on this planet since the machines had come had been a lifetime, and it would be another lifetime until tomorrow when they could finally run. For now the feel of him so close, his breath in her ear, excited her, fear ebbing away, that energy channeling into arousal, into remembering how to forget again. She dropped her head back against his shoulder and sighed, tears drying on her cheeks as her hips swayed with the aimless rhythm of his touch.
“More?” he breathed, kissing her cheek. It was both offer and question.
She reached down and stilled his hands, pressing his palms flat against her flesh, holding them there, letting them heat her skin, before guiding them downward, hooking his thumbs beneath the waistline of her pants. That was her answer.
Permission now granted, he nipped her ear and then unbuttoned her pants, slowly easing down the zipper as he began feathering her neck with gentle kisses, his soft stubble prickling her skin, pimpling it now with desire, the chill chased away. She could feel him hardening against her as she pressed her ass back into him, but he stopped her, placing his hands firmly on her hips and pushing her forward, creating a sliver of space between them.
“This is for you,” he told her as he slid his hands forward again, across her belly, before slipping them down beneath the soft cotton of her panties.
She was already wet for him, her body responding easily to his touch, desire coiling tighter inside her as he dragged his fingers through her curls, testing her readiness, knowing it wasn’t needed but teasing her anyway.
He pushed her pants and underwear down to her thighs and then cupped her ass, squeezing it lightly, punctuating that force with a tug of his teeth on her earlobe that drew a soft moan from her lips. Steadying her hip with one hand, he reached back around to stroke her again, trailing his fingers up and down through her folds, drawing slowly collapsing circles around her clit each time he started down again.
Throwing her head back against his shoulder with a throaty groan when he finally found his mark, she felt him brace himself against her, shoving a knee between her thighs to steady her and spread her legs further apart before plunging two fingers inside her. Releasing her hip, he ran his free hand under her shirt, slipping it beneath the cup of her bra, pinching at the hardened peak of her breast as he held her tight against his chest.
“Harder,” she begged, barely able to form the word between her panting breaths, causing him to pick up his pace.
Pumping his fingers deep inside her now, he continued to circle her clit with his thumb, alternating his rhythm and how and where he touched her, sometimes grinding his whole palm against her, keeping her off guard, making her wild with anticipation for what might come next.
Unable to hold on for long, she came with a loud cry, not even caring who or what might hear her outside. Danger suddenly felt very far away. Thighs quivering and knees weak, she melted into his embrace as he slipped his fingers out of her, soothing her with gentle kisses along her neck and shoulder, tongue swirling against her skin.
As she found her breath and her legs beneath her, she ground herself hard against him, feeling the proof of his own need. “More,” she whispered. Despite the quiet in her voice, there was no mistaking this as anything but a command. She wanted to stay lost.
“It isn’t safe to stay here any longer,” he told her, the ache in his own voice evident as she continued to circle her hips against him.
“It never has been.”
Whatever battle he was fighting between survival and need was settled quickly. Perhaps there had never really been a conflict. “Frak it,” he hissed, causing her to laugh.
But her saucy “please,” was punctuated by a gasp as he shoved her forward, bending her over the table, spilling her out over all the precious things from her past that she wanted the strength to carry away with her, spreading her again with his knee. She panted in anticipation as she heard him quickly lower his zipper. Grabbing her hips, he thrust into her without preamble. She was still so wet that he filled her easily.
She grabbed the sides of the table to anchor herself when she realized that he was going to frak her hard and fast, pounding into her from the moment he first hit bottom. That was fine by her, the harder the better. Each sharp burst of pain burned away more of her thoughts, until there was nothing left but the sounds of them grunting in time and the sweaty smack of their skin.
Digging the fingers of one hand into her hip with bruising force, he brought the other around to touch her roughly. “Gonna come,” he warned as his thrusts came even harder and he bit down on her shoulder.
She felt him stiffen against her back as he pressed his finger hard against her clit. That was enough to spark her release. “So good,” she cried.
“Yes,” he breathed into her skin, laving at the sweat slipping beneath her collar, as he felt her pulsing around his softening cock. Bending over her he wrapped his arms around her middle and brought her up with him as he straightened again, hugging her tight as he slipped out of her, their panting turning to hiccupping laughter as he nibbled her ear in the way he’d quickly learned would show him the Laura few ever got to see, the Laura that was not at war.
She turned in his arms and wrapped her own around his neck, drawing him in for a long, deep kiss. “Thank you, Sam,” she whispered when they finally broke apart.
He smiled as he lightly kissed away the salty tracks of dried tears on her cheeks, helping her in this last small way to reapply her mask. “Any time, Laura,” he told her.
But they both knew that was a lie. This was the last time, because tomorrow everything would change. Live or die, they were moving on. New wars to fight, and old comrades to fight them with.
He buttoned his pants and grabbed his gun as she crossed over to the cot and quickly cleaned herself with the corner of the bedsheet, not caring about the mess. She was never coming back here.
“Ready?” he asked.
When she turned to answer, she saw him holding her thick blue coat and her small pack. Grabbing the coat, she put it on and then slipped the bundle inside. As he zipped her jacket for her, she felt her most cherished things pressed tight against her breast. Everything she was fighting for. Solid. Close. Safe. As he guided her to the tent flap, gun drawn, she was ready to find her way back home.