FIC: BSG, blowjob mouth
Title: blowjob mouth
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Pairing: Kara/Lee
Rating: R/NC-17
Spoilers: None
Summary: Everyone knows Starbuck has a blowjob mouth.
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. The words are.
A/N: My first completed BSG fic. Written for smut_tuesdays. Cross-posted to bsg_kink.
Everyone knows Starbuck has a blowjob mouth.
-
Lee thinks it’s in the smile, more than the lips. The lips are great-full and ripe, like they’d be perfect to bite into-but it’s the wickedness in her smile that gets him, every time. There’s fire in her eyes, embers that spark to flames when she smiles. She bares her teeth, a predatory grin, and looks at him like she knows exactly what he’s thinking.
Her smile pulls her cheeks back and what he’s thinking is about the other things that could stretch that mouth.
He knows she’d be good-not just because that’s something he knows in his bones, that anyone with a mouth like that would have to be good-but because he had spent nights in a room next to her and Zak. Lee heard enough Gods, Kara, your mouth to last him a lifetime, but all he wanted to do was be able to say it himself.
All he wants to do. Present tense.
----
He doesn’t know how it would happen. He’s thought of a thousand different possibilities.
-
They’ll be celebrating something-a good day killing toasters or some colonial holiday or just to remind themselves that they’re alive. The air will buzz with laughter and music and clinking ice cubes. He’ll make her laugh or she’ll make him laugh, and she’ll smile, challenging and cocksure, and they’ll end up behind the nearest hatch door.
-
But fighting is more common than celebrations; so maybe they’ll be fighting. He’ll be yelling at her and she’ll be yelling back and fight or flight turns into fight or frak. Somewhere along the line they choose frak.
-
And of course, it can always just happen in the middle of a random day. Because sometimes he looks at her and he doesn't know why in the universe he isn’t kissing her, right then, immediately and forever. Because he loves her and yeah, that’s corny and hopelessly romantic, but he does. She can do something as simple as brush her hair and he wants to tell her; he wonders if anyone else sees the grace in her movements the way he does. She is elegance and poise with a tomboy exoskeleton.
-
Anyway it happens, any fantasy he decides to pick for that day, it always ends the same: her on her knees, smiling up at him.
She’ll use her hand on him first, just to tease. She’ll ghost her thumb over his head and her grin will widen when his breath catches. She won’t make him beg. When he’s about to, when he’s sure that if she doesn’t open her mouth his heart will beat its way to an MI, she’ll lick the underside of his cock, smooth and wet and hot.
He almost comes right then and there. Even his fantasized version of her forces him to fight to stay in control. He always loses it in the end. She’s in control here-fully clothed while he’s shirtless and unzipped, patient while he’s almost pleading.
Starbuck plants her hands on the front of his thighs, holding him against whatever happens to be behind him. And she is Starbuck in this moment: mischievous and cunning, cocksure in every sense of the word. Her hands are strong on his legs, and he stays pinned as she runs her tongue up him again, swirling around the head. She smiles that wicked grin before taking him all in one swallow. His hips jump against his will, and hers, though there’s not much she can do; his legs are stronger than her arms. She pushes her hands against him harder, as though reminding his body what she wants it to do. He bucks into her mouth just to show that he can beat her.
Except then she starts bobbing, flipping her tongue back and forth under his cock, and his head hits the wall behind him and he couldn’t stop canting his hips toward her if he tried. She drags her teeth against him, as if he didn’t already know how powerful she is in this situation, how powerless he is.
Her hair is just long enough to get a good grip. He’s surprised she lets him twist it in a fist as she pumps up and down. He tugs a little and she drags her teeth again-a warning. Her eyes glance up at him, scolding. He laughs.
It seems any time he does something that shows he’s still got some control, she resolves to take it away. When he laughs, she doubles her speed, somehow still tracing every line, every vein, with her tongue. She doesn’t even bother to try to hold him back now, lets his hips piston into her. His fingers grasp for the wall but it’s flat, there’s nothing to hold on to and gods he needs something because he’s frakking Kara’s face and her mouth is hot and the tension builds up and
Gods, Kara, your mouth.
He comes hard, her lips still locked around him. The fire dances in her eyes even though her mouth is too busy to smile. She gives a couple extra sucks, drawing everything from him, before making sure his cock is clean. He’s still trying to regain his breath because he’s never come so hard in his life; no matter how many times he’s had this fantasy, that always seems true. She smiles up at him.
----
That’s always where the dream ends. He’s left in his bunk or in the shower, gasping for a few more seconds before he cleans up.
One time when he comes out of the showers, in nothing but a towel, loose around his waist, Kara’s sitting on the edge of her bunk, elbows on her knees, grinning.
“Sounded like you were having fun in there, Apollo. Thinking of me again?”
He always tries to be quiet, always tries to only think the words rather than say them, but she’s grinning with a certainty, like she overheard him dreaming about her mouth. With his pulse still throbbing and limbs still fluid, he can’t bring himself to worry about it.
Instead he sighs and says, “You have no idea,” running a hand through his wet hair.
She quirks an eyebrow at him, still beaming, and he thinks maybe she was kidding, maybe he just tipped his hand. What he knows for sure is that her expression-part-amused, part-wondering and always a little naughty-will be fodder for many subsequent shower sessions.
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Pairing: Kara/Lee
Rating: R/NC-17
Spoilers: None
Summary: Everyone knows Starbuck has a blowjob mouth.
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. The words are.
A/N: My first completed BSG fic. Written for smut_tuesdays. Cross-posted to bsg_kink.
Everyone knows Starbuck has a blowjob mouth.
-
Lee thinks it’s in the smile, more than the lips. The lips are great-full and ripe, like they’d be perfect to bite into-but it’s the wickedness in her smile that gets him, every time. There’s fire in her eyes, embers that spark to flames when she smiles. She bares her teeth, a predatory grin, and looks at him like she knows exactly what he’s thinking.
Her smile pulls her cheeks back and what he’s thinking is about the other things that could stretch that mouth.
He knows she’d be good-not just because that’s something he knows in his bones, that anyone with a mouth like that would have to be good-but because he had spent nights in a room next to her and Zak. Lee heard enough Gods, Kara, your mouth to last him a lifetime, but all he wanted to do was be able to say it himself.
All he wants to do. Present tense.
----
He doesn’t know how it would happen. He’s thought of a thousand different possibilities.
-
They’ll be celebrating something-a good day killing toasters or some colonial holiday or just to remind themselves that they’re alive. The air will buzz with laughter and music and clinking ice cubes. He’ll make her laugh or she’ll make him laugh, and she’ll smile, challenging and cocksure, and they’ll end up behind the nearest hatch door.
-
But fighting is more common than celebrations; so maybe they’ll be fighting. He’ll be yelling at her and she’ll be yelling back and fight or flight turns into fight or frak. Somewhere along the line they choose frak.
-
And of course, it can always just happen in the middle of a random day. Because sometimes he looks at her and he doesn't know why in the universe he isn’t kissing her, right then, immediately and forever. Because he loves her and yeah, that’s corny and hopelessly romantic, but he does. She can do something as simple as brush her hair and he wants to tell her; he wonders if anyone else sees the grace in her movements the way he does. She is elegance and poise with a tomboy exoskeleton.
-
Anyway it happens, any fantasy he decides to pick for that day, it always ends the same: her on her knees, smiling up at him.
She’ll use her hand on him first, just to tease. She’ll ghost her thumb over his head and her grin will widen when his breath catches. She won’t make him beg. When he’s about to, when he’s sure that if she doesn’t open her mouth his heart will beat its way to an MI, she’ll lick the underside of his cock, smooth and wet and hot.
He almost comes right then and there. Even his fantasized version of her forces him to fight to stay in control. He always loses it in the end. She’s in control here-fully clothed while he’s shirtless and unzipped, patient while he’s almost pleading.
Starbuck plants her hands on the front of his thighs, holding him against whatever happens to be behind him. And she is Starbuck in this moment: mischievous and cunning, cocksure in every sense of the word. Her hands are strong on his legs, and he stays pinned as she runs her tongue up him again, swirling around the head. She smiles that wicked grin before taking him all in one swallow. His hips jump against his will, and hers, though there’s not much she can do; his legs are stronger than her arms. She pushes her hands against him harder, as though reminding his body what she wants it to do. He bucks into her mouth just to show that he can beat her.
Except then she starts bobbing, flipping her tongue back and forth under his cock, and his head hits the wall behind him and he couldn’t stop canting his hips toward her if he tried. She drags her teeth against him, as if he didn’t already know how powerful she is in this situation, how powerless he is.
Her hair is just long enough to get a good grip. He’s surprised she lets him twist it in a fist as she pumps up and down. He tugs a little and she drags her teeth again-a warning. Her eyes glance up at him, scolding. He laughs.
It seems any time he does something that shows he’s still got some control, she resolves to take it away. When he laughs, she doubles her speed, somehow still tracing every line, every vein, with her tongue. She doesn’t even bother to try to hold him back now, lets his hips piston into her. His fingers grasp for the wall but it’s flat, there’s nothing to hold on to and gods he needs something because he’s frakking Kara’s face and her mouth is hot and the tension builds up and
Gods, Kara, your mouth.
He comes hard, her lips still locked around him. The fire dances in her eyes even though her mouth is too busy to smile. She gives a couple extra sucks, drawing everything from him, before making sure his cock is clean. He’s still trying to regain his breath because he’s never come so hard in his life; no matter how many times he’s had this fantasy, that always seems true. She smiles up at him.
----
That’s always where the dream ends. He’s left in his bunk or in the shower, gasping for a few more seconds before he cleans up.
One time when he comes out of the showers, in nothing but a towel, loose around his waist, Kara’s sitting on the edge of her bunk, elbows on her knees, grinning.
“Sounded like you were having fun in there, Apollo. Thinking of me again?”
He always tries to be quiet, always tries to only think the words rather than say them, but she’s grinning with a certainty, like she overheard him dreaming about her mouth. With his pulse still throbbing and limbs still fluid, he can’t bring himself to worry about it.
Instead he sighs and says, “You have no idea,” running a hand through his wet hair.
She quirks an eyebrow at him, still beaming, and he thinks maybe she was kidding, maybe he just tipped his hand. What he knows for sure is that her expression-part-amused, part-wondering and always a little naughty-will be fodder for many subsequent shower sessions.