RPF: Can't Always Get What You Want
FANDOM: Battlestar Galactica RPF
SUMMARY: Sex, drugs and rock and roll.
PAIRING: Mary McDonnell/Edward James Olmos
RATING: NC-17
DISCLAIMER: Real people, totally fake situations. Please don't read this if you can't tell the difference.
WORD COUNT: 781
NOTE: This was written for bsg_pornbattle. The story is set in the same universe as Don't Ask, Don't Tell, where Mary and her husband have an "arrangement."
"This is good weed." Eddie blows a stream of smoke into the air. "Where did you get it?"
Mary giggles. She's always been a giggler, but now even more so. "I don't reveal my sources," she says. "But this is nice. I haven't smoked in decades." She takes the joint between her slender fingers and inhales.
The coffee table of her Vancouver apartment looks like something out of college, covered in beer bottles, cartons of Chinese takeout, a pack of Trojans. The Stones on the stereo only enhance the mood.
"Pretending yesterday wasn't good enough. I wanted the real thing," she says and burrows into his shoulder. They fit well together.
This isn't real. Reality is his home in Los Angeles, his wife and kids. This is time out of time-eighteen-hour shooting schedules, rehearsals, costume fittings. And sometimes spending a few hours with Mary at her temporary place or his. It doesn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things. Pleasure, pure pleasure. An escape from reality.
She's wrapped in a light blue kimono, her hair damp from the shower. No makeup on her face, but it doesn't matter. She may not be a young woman, but she's a strikingly beautiful one. "Smoking pot makes me horny," she says in a slow, lazy voice.
"I've noticed." He puts the joint out in a glass ashtray. His mouth is dry and he takes a swallow of beer. He's not a young man, either, but there's something about Mary that sets his blood on fire. Indeed, he can feel his cock rising, despite the long session on her bed and the faster, nastier one in the shower.
She slips the kimono off, revealing her delicious curves to his hazy eyes. If only Battlestar Galactica featured nudity. It would be the number one show on television. Her breasts are absolutely gorgeous-round and full, but not in that artificial way that so many Hollywood breasts are. Hers are beautifully real. Mary tugs the towel from his waist and kneels between his legs. She grasps his cock at the root and squeezes with her surprisingly strong fingers. He tips his head back and moans. Mary McDonnell may be one of the most talented actresses of her generations, but she's equally talented in the oral arts. She licks him like he's a Christmas candy cane, never taking those green eyes off his face.
"Sweet Jesus," he mutters as she begins to suck in earnest, her tongue still managing to swirl around the head of his cock.
"Jesus doesn't have anything to do with this," she says, mischief in her eyes.
Enough. He doesn't want to come yet, doesn't want to come in her mouth. He wants to be buried so deeply in her that he forgets where he starts and she begins. Somehow he manages to grasp her under her arms and haul her up to the couch. The personal trainer was worth every cent.
He lies back on the cushions and she straddles him, her hair curling around her face. He loves how she almost never stops smiling during sex. She's like a blissed-out angel of sex, he thinks, as she unrolls the condom on his cock and guides him inside her with her hand. They've probably made love two dozen times over the past few years, but Mary always feels different and refreshingly new. This time the sex feels like being on a sailboat he once owned, gently rocking on the waves of the Caribbean.
Despite the haze of two beers and some wickedly strong British Columbian cannabis, he manages to find her clitoris and gently stroke in the way he now knows she likes best. She's making little mewling noises but still smiling that beatific smile. He shivers every time her breasts brush against his chest. He thinks, how do you do this to me, Mary? And then conscious thought becomes impossible as he feels her shuddering around him and hears her throaty moans. He wants to make it last longer, but he's coming so hard he fears the fillings will pop out of his teeth.
Sometimes he actually wonders what it would be like to have this all the time. To wake up beside her and have her face be the last thing he sees before he falls asleep. An impossible dream, he knows.
Mary collapses on his chest and he wraps his arms around her, feeling her warm breath on his neck. He really should call a cab and go back to his own place, maybe call his wife. But for right now he shuts his eyes and listens to the beating of her heart.
END
SUMMARY: Sex, drugs and rock and roll.
PAIRING: Mary McDonnell/Edward James Olmos
RATING: NC-17
DISCLAIMER: Real people, totally fake situations. Please don't read this if you can't tell the difference.
WORD COUNT: 781
NOTE: This was written for bsg_pornbattle. The story is set in the same universe as Don't Ask, Don't Tell, where Mary and her husband have an "arrangement."
"This is good weed." Eddie blows a stream of smoke into the air. "Where did you get it?"
Mary giggles. She's always been a giggler, but now even more so. "I don't reveal my sources," she says. "But this is nice. I haven't smoked in decades." She takes the joint between her slender fingers and inhales.
The coffee table of her Vancouver apartment looks like something out of college, covered in beer bottles, cartons of Chinese takeout, a pack of Trojans. The Stones on the stereo only enhance the mood.
"Pretending yesterday wasn't good enough. I wanted the real thing," she says and burrows into his shoulder. They fit well together.
This isn't real. Reality is his home in Los Angeles, his wife and kids. This is time out of time-eighteen-hour shooting schedules, rehearsals, costume fittings. And sometimes spending a few hours with Mary at her temporary place or his. It doesn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things. Pleasure, pure pleasure. An escape from reality.
She's wrapped in a light blue kimono, her hair damp from the shower. No makeup on her face, but it doesn't matter. She may not be a young woman, but she's a strikingly beautiful one. "Smoking pot makes me horny," she says in a slow, lazy voice.
"I've noticed." He puts the joint out in a glass ashtray. His mouth is dry and he takes a swallow of beer. He's not a young man, either, but there's something about Mary that sets his blood on fire. Indeed, he can feel his cock rising, despite the long session on her bed and the faster, nastier one in the shower.
She slips the kimono off, revealing her delicious curves to his hazy eyes. If only Battlestar Galactica featured nudity. It would be the number one show on television. Her breasts are absolutely gorgeous-round and full, but not in that artificial way that so many Hollywood breasts are. Hers are beautifully real. Mary tugs the towel from his waist and kneels between his legs. She grasps his cock at the root and squeezes with her surprisingly strong fingers. He tips his head back and moans. Mary McDonnell may be one of the most talented actresses of her generations, but she's equally talented in the oral arts. She licks him like he's a Christmas candy cane, never taking those green eyes off his face.
"Sweet Jesus," he mutters as she begins to suck in earnest, her tongue still managing to swirl around the head of his cock.
"Jesus doesn't have anything to do with this," she says, mischief in her eyes.
Enough. He doesn't want to come yet, doesn't want to come in her mouth. He wants to be buried so deeply in her that he forgets where he starts and she begins. Somehow he manages to grasp her under her arms and haul her up to the couch. The personal trainer was worth every cent.
He lies back on the cushions and she straddles him, her hair curling around her face. He loves how she almost never stops smiling during sex. She's like a blissed-out angel of sex, he thinks, as she unrolls the condom on his cock and guides him inside her with her hand. They've probably made love two dozen times over the past few years, but Mary always feels different and refreshingly new. This time the sex feels like being on a sailboat he once owned, gently rocking on the waves of the Caribbean.
Despite the haze of two beers and some wickedly strong British Columbian cannabis, he manages to find her clitoris and gently stroke in the way he now knows she likes best. She's making little mewling noises but still smiling that beatific smile. He shivers every time her breasts brush against his chest. He thinks, how do you do this to me, Mary? And then conscious thought becomes impossible as he feels her shuddering around him and hears her throaty moans. He wants to make it last longer, but he's coming so hard he fears the fillings will pop out of his teeth.
Sometimes he actually wonders what it would be like to have this all the time. To wake up beside her and have her face be the last thing he sees before he falls asleep. An impossible dream, he knows.
Mary collapses on his chest and he wraps his arms around her, feeling her warm breath on his neck. He really should call a cab and go back to his own place, maybe call his wife. But for right now he shuts his eyes and listens to the beating of her heart.
END