bsg porn!
My contributions to bsg_pornbattle:
First Rule Of Sickbay, Laura/Cottle, prompt: thank you
“Thank you,” she said, still perched on the end of a bed in sickbay.
“Just doin’ my job,” he said, eyes cast downward as he lit a cigarette.
“By running tests to make sure my cancer is gone or by smoking around me to make sure it returns in another form?”
Cottle’s head snapped up in surprise. Laura reached over and plucked the cigarette from his open mouth before it fell. She took a long drag.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.
“Smoking,” she said.
“You can’t smoke in here.”
“Oh, really?,” she said, eyes narrowing. “But you can?”
“That’s right,” he said, stepping towards her and grabbing for the cigarette. “My sickbay, my rules.”
She hid her hand behind her back and smiled.
“I’m the President and can do whatever I want,” she declared. “If you want the cigarette, you’re going to have to come and get it.”
He inhaled sharply and her smile broadened.
“That’s right,” she said. “I dare you.”
She made a slow show of leaning back, using one hand to prop herself up, and inhaled another long drag. She saw his eyes dart down to where her blouse stretched tightly over her breasts. She widened her legs ever so slightly then, causing her skirt rose higher on her thighs.
She couldn’t stop the cry that husked out of her mouth when he accepted her challenge, one hand grabbing a fistful of her hair while the other plunged into the depths under her skirt. He stroked her once, twice, his fingers pressing against the moisture of her panties. Her head fell back and her mouth went slack, giving him the perfect opportunity to snatch the cigarette from her mouth and put it into his own.
“My sickbay, my rules,” he grumbled around the cigarette, pulling the soft silk aside to slide two fingers inside her.
Her braced herself with both arms now, back arched, and her hips moved in counter-rhythm to his hand. He made quick work of her blouse, unbuttoning it just enough to reach in and grope at her right breast. She gasped as he pinched her nipple and pressed herself even further into him, encouraging his rough touch. His hand between her legs began to speed up then, his fingers fucking her for all they were worth. His thumb circled around her clit until he felt her body begin to shake and then he pressed down hard, eliciting a long, low moan from between her lips.
Her body went stiff as the orgasm shot through her, then went limp as he retracted his hand. She opened her eyes slowly, smiling at the smug look on his face. She took the cigarette again, took another drag, then handed it back. She reveled for a moment in the rush it provided to her already tingling body before straightening her skirt and buttoning her blouse.
“So that’s it?” he asked.
“I’ll see you next week,” she said.
She stood then, facing him, and her eyes flicked down to his crotch, acknowledging the unmistakable bulge in his pants. He watched her, unbelieving, as she moved towards the door.
“I look forward to discovering the other...dictums, shall we say...you have here in sickbay, Doctor,” she said with a smile. “Thanks again.”
His mouth fell open and this time, the cigarette hit the floor.
Living Life, Laura/Bill, prompt: New Caprica
Laura Roslin was still high. She felt like she was floating as she rambled on about getting real and living life on borrowed time. Her head pillowed on his chest, she steadied herself with the even beat of his heart. She was warm here, pressed up against him; her body molded against his perfectly. His hand, once lazily resting on her hip, was moving now, tracing soft lines up and down the swell of her hip. Her eyelids grew heavy.
“So it’s now or never? Is that what you’re saying?”
His deep voice in her ear startled her slightly and her body jerked to full consciousness. She sat up and craned her neck to look down at him. The look on his face was unmistakable.
“Live the life you want to live, Bill,” she said. “That’s what I’m saying.”
He pulled her back down to him and shifted until he was lying on top of her, cradled between legs. Her heart pounded against her chest, the gravity of what was about to happen sending chills through her from head to toe. He hovered above her, his eyes searching hers, almost as if he were asking for permission. She very nearly rolled her eyes as she untied her wrap, pushed the fabric aside, and grabbed his hand, placing it firmly and squarely on her left breast. The thin cotton of her camisole did little to quell the sensation of his touch and she felt her nipple harden under it.
“Live the life you want to live,” she said again.
He lunged for her then and his mouth found hers in a clash of lips, teeth, and tongue. She grabbed at his coat, taking fistfuls of fabric, pulling him down to her. Her legs wrapped around his waist and she thrust her hips up to meet the hard ridge of his cock against her center. He pushed her shirt up, exposing her for mere seconds before his mouth descended upon her breast, his tongue licking and his teeth grazing. She reached down with one hand and tugged at the fabric of her skirt, pulling it up as he lifted his hips and unbuttoned his pants. She took him in her hand, savoring the weight of him, the way he growled as she squeezed him tight.
“It could all end tomorrow and I’d die a happy man,” he said, his lifting his head to meet her eyes.
She stroked up, then down, slowly and expertly, all the while tilting her pelvis beneath him. She guided him inside of her, pulling her hand away as he pushed further, as he filled her entirely. The sensation was exquisite, just what she had been missing, she though to herself, and she didn’t stop the groan that escaped from her mouth.
“Oh, Gods,” she whispered. “Frak me.”
His thrusts deepened then, picking up speed and strength. She couldn’t keep her eyes open and let them slip shut as her head fell back. He dropped his mouth down to her, unable to resist the pale expanse of her neck. He licked and sucked at the tendons, resisting the urge to bite, to leave his mark on her. He felt like a teenager, drunk with the pureness of feeling alive and in love, mind and body. He felt his release building quickly, felt it in each stroke in and out of her, with each moan that escaped her lips. He hurriedly reached down between them and found her clit, sending white hot sparks of sensation through her. Her body jerked with each pass of his fingers and seconds later she cried out, waves of intense pleasure flooding her every sense. His thrusts became near desperate, spurred by her orgasm, and seconds later he blissfully followed her over the edge.
His body collapsed next to hers, both of their chests heaving as they gulped for air. She started to laugh first, giggles erupting out of her as she turned her head to look at his slack jaw and sweaty brow. It was infectious and he followed suit, chuckling at the sight of her disheveled clothing and mussed hair. He laid his palm against her cheek then and kissed her softly.
“The life I want to live,” he said.
“Me, too,” she said, resting her hand on his against her face.
“My back hurts,” he said.
“Mine, too,” she said, starting to laugh again.
They helped each other up and straightened their clothes just as the sun began to rise over the horizon. He reached into the pocket on the inside of his jacket and pulled out one last joint.
“Shall we go watch the sun rise?” he asked, offering her his arm.
“I can’t think of a more fabulous idea,” she said.
Those Legs, Laura/Bill, prompts: legs, do you remember the first day we met?
“Do you remember the first day we met?” she asks.
Funny, he thinks, how eight little words can recall the most vivid sexual fantasy he’s ever had.
If he was going to be honest, he initially found her presence aboard the Galactica to be tiresome and irritating. She was a schoolteacher with no comprehension of what it had been like to fight on the frontlines against the Cylons and was therefore incapable of understanding his objection to the computer network. Moreover, she represented the end of the ship, of what had been his home, his career, and his life, and brought with her the alarming reminder that he couldn’t ever go back.
He really couldn’t be bothered with her.
But, frak...those legs.
He was very careful to avoid eye contact with her during the decommissioning ceremony. She approached him after his speech, thanked him for his time, and made a point of telling him what he already knew: the ship’s computers would be networked whether he liked it or not once he was gone. But she also said she hoped he would reconsider and allow the process to start with his consent. There was something about her that struck him, something haunting about the look in her eye.
He chose to ignore it and told her to have a nice trip back to Caprica.
He watched her board her ship, all the while wondering what it would feel like to have her legs wrapped around him.
He waited until he was off duty and in his quarters to fully explore such a fantasy. He sat at his desk and pushed aside the stack of papers awaiting his signature. He leaned back in his chair and unzipped pants, all the while picturing the look on her face as he slowly stripped her proper attire from her body. He stroked himself through his boxers as he imagined the sounds she would make as he pushed her against the wall and covered her mouth with his. He wrapped his fist around his now-freed erection and pumped himself hard, eyes closed tight as he envisioned sliding inside of her, fucking her. He could see it all, how he’d lift her up, her back against the cold hard metal of the ship’s wall, then pull her down until she sheathed his cock. He’d reach down and pull one of her long, slender legs up, wrap it around him, and drive into her over and over until she was screaming his name.
He came hard, the swiftness of his release surprising him. He hadn’t fantasized so vividly about a woman in years.
He went to the restroom and cleaned himself up. He returned to his desk and grabbed a book, tossing any further thoughts of Laura Roslin (and her legs) aside. Best not to wish for that which you can’t have, after all.
His phone buzzed.
“CIC to commanding officer.”
“Bill!,” she says, her tone sharp.
He startles from his memory and focuses on her again, sitting on his couch in her robe. He smiles.
“Yes, Laura, I remember the first day we met.”
“You were such a bastard,” she says.
He laughs. “You were kind of a pain in the ass yourself,” he says.
“Yes,” she acknowledges, smiling as she adjusts the scarf around her head.
His own smile fades, once again the reality of her fate washing over him. He’s never wished so hard for that which he can’t have.
“I didn’t mind, though,” he says.
“No?”
“No,” he says. “Not with legs like that.”
“These old things?” she asks, batting her eyelashes at him as she stretches her legs out along the couch.
“It’s hard not to notice them, you know,” he tells her, getting up from his chair to join her.
“Oh, I saw you noticing them, alright,” she says as he sits at her feet.
“And here I thought I was being subtle,” he says, running one hand up her calf. “From the moment I met you, I wanted to know just what those legs could do.”
“C’mere,” she says. “And I’ll show you.”
Never Enough Time, Laura/Bill, prompt: who wants to live forever?
She was lying in his bed when he returned to his quarters, on her side with her back to him. Her hair fanned out behind her head, shining bright under the small reading lamp at the head of the bed. He smiled, the thrill of her, of them, was still fairly new and it still made his heart flutter. He undressed and readied himself for bed quietly before turning the light off and slipping under the covers beside her. He and nestled against her carefully, his right arm slipping around her waist in a light embrace, and settled in for sleep.
“It’s back,” she said, her voice cutting through the dark and startling him.
“I thought you were asleep,” he said, placing a soft kiss against the back of her head.
She turned in his arms until she faced him, their noses nearly touching. He brushed back the errant strands of hair from her face and felt knots form in his stomach as soon as he saw the look in her eyes.
“What’s back?” he asked, knowing very well the answer, but needing her to say the words.
“My cancer,” she said.
He reached up and over his head, switching the lamp on again. Silence hung in the air as he held her body against him once again, as their eyes locked and spoke of fear, anger, denial, and love. She moved first, placing her mouth on his softly at first, then with more urgency, begging for entrance between his lips. He parted his mouth, allowing her inside, the sweet taste of her tongue sending jolts of arousal straight to his cock.
They stripped each others’ clothes off quickly, tossing them and the bedcovers aside as the heat grew between them. He nudged her until she lay on her stomach, shifting himself to sit on his knees, straddling the backs of her thighs. She looked back over her shoulder at him, watched his eyes survey the curves and valleys of her body before him. His cock stood at attention just above the swell of her ass and she instinctively lifted her hips. He rested one gentle hand at the small of her back while the other guided himself inside her, wet and ready to receive him. His thrusts were soft and reverent, his lips soft as he braced himself just above her to place kisses against the length of her spine.
“Harder,” she said, turning again to catch his eye. “I need more.”
His grip on her waist tightened, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, as his movements picked up speed and urgency. She braced herself on her elbows as he drove into her over and over, eliciting deep moans from her with each forward thrust.
“Oh, Gods,” she cried out suddenly, her body beginning to shake. “Right there...”
Her body throbbed around him with her orgasm, bringing him to the brink. Her body was limp as he pulled it towards him, as he pushed inside of her once, twice, three more times, and as she squeezed her inner muscles around him, he finally found his release.
Her head was turned to the wall again as he fell on his back next to her again, both of their bodies slick with sweat. His heart was still pounding in his chest as he reached a hand to her shoulder.
“Laura...”
She turned then, her eyes glistening with tears. She laid her head on his chest and wrapped her body around his, holding on tight.
“How long?” he asked.
“Hard to say,” she said. “But not long. Even with treatment.”
His breath caught in his throat and he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. It’s not enough time, he thought to himself. But then again, it never would be.
“Who wants to live forever anyway?” she said, her voice thick.
He felt the heat of his tears as they fell and the moisture of hers as she buried her head in his neck. There weren’t any words left to say right then and he listened as she eventually fell asleep. He found comfort in the steady, even rhythm of her breathing and warm weight of her body against him, proof undeniable of just how alive she was right then and there.
That night, for him, sleep never came.
Can't Go Back, Kara/Sam, prompt: desperation
The morning air was cold enough to make you shiver, but her skin was hot against him as he peeled off her clothes.
“Faster,” she said, taking his bottom lip between her teeth. “I need you to frak me and I need you to do it now.”
Her fingers pulled at the zipper of his pants, her hands rough as she reached inside and pulled at the hard length of his cock. He picked her up, intending to toss her on her back on the bed, but she protested.
“No,” she said. “Here. Now.”
She turned her back to him, grasping the metal support rod of the tent above her head. He pressed his body against her from behind, entering her quickly, easily. He dug his nails into the swell of her hips as he fucked her and his head fell back as she jerked against him, thrust for thrust, giving as good as she got.
He reached around with determined fingers to where they were joined only to find hers already there. He watched her, eyes squeezed shut, demanding release from her body. She found it quickly, bringing him with her as her body went into spasms under him.
She stepped forward and away from him, extricating herself without a word. They dressed in silence, her eyes never meeting his stare. She moved to leave.
“Kara,” he said, his tone imploring.
“What is is, Sam?” he asked, finally looking at him.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Our first frak as man and wife,” she said after several long minutes. “Let’s go get a drink to celebrate already.”
She left the tent and he followed.
First Rule Of Sickbay, Laura/Cottle, prompt: thank you
“Thank you,” she said, still perched on the end of a bed in sickbay.
“Just doin’ my job,” he said, eyes cast downward as he lit a cigarette.
“By running tests to make sure my cancer is gone or by smoking around me to make sure it returns in another form?”
Cottle’s head snapped up in surprise. Laura reached over and plucked the cigarette from his open mouth before it fell. She took a long drag.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.
“Smoking,” she said.
“You can’t smoke in here.”
“Oh, really?,” she said, eyes narrowing. “But you can?”
“That’s right,” he said, stepping towards her and grabbing for the cigarette. “My sickbay, my rules.”
She hid her hand behind her back and smiled.
“I’m the President and can do whatever I want,” she declared. “If you want the cigarette, you’re going to have to come and get it.”
He inhaled sharply and her smile broadened.
“That’s right,” she said. “I dare you.”
She made a slow show of leaning back, using one hand to prop herself up, and inhaled another long drag. She saw his eyes dart down to where her blouse stretched tightly over her breasts. She widened her legs ever so slightly then, causing her skirt rose higher on her thighs.
She couldn’t stop the cry that husked out of her mouth when he accepted her challenge, one hand grabbing a fistful of her hair while the other plunged into the depths under her skirt. He stroked her once, twice, his fingers pressing against the moisture of her panties. Her head fell back and her mouth went slack, giving him the perfect opportunity to snatch the cigarette from her mouth and put it into his own.
“My sickbay, my rules,” he grumbled around the cigarette, pulling the soft silk aside to slide two fingers inside her.
Her braced herself with both arms now, back arched, and her hips moved in counter-rhythm to his hand. He made quick work of her blouse, unbuttoning it just enough to reach in and grope at her right breast. She gasped as he pinched her nipple and pressed herself even further into him, encouraging his rough touch. His hand between her legs began to speed up then, his fingers fucking her for all they were worth. His thumb circled around her clit until he felt her body begin to shake and then he pressed down hard, eliciting a long, low moan from between her lips.
Her body went stiff as the orgasm shot through her, then went limp as he retracted his hand. She opened her eyes slowly, smiling at the smug look on his face. She took the cigarette again, took another drag, then handed it back. She reveled for a moment in the rush it provided to her already tingling body before straightening her skirt and buttoning her blouse.
“So that’s it?” he asked.
“I’ll see you next week,” she said.
She stood then, facing him, and her eyes flicked down to his crotch, acknowledging the unmistakable bulge in his pants. He watched her, unbelieving, as she moved towards the door.
“I look forward to discovering the other...dictums, shall we say...you have here in sickbay, Doctor,” she said with a smile. “Thanks again.”
His mouth fell open and this time, the cigarette hit the floor.
Living Life, Laura/Bill, prompt: New Caprica
Laura Roslin was still high. She felt like she was floating as she rambled on about getting real and living life on borrowed time. Her head pillowed on his chest, she steadied herself with the even beat of his heart. She was warm here, pressed up against him; her body molded against his perfectly. His hand, once lazily resting on her hip, was moving now, tracing soft lines up and down the swell of her hip. Her eyelids grew heavy.
“So it’s now or never? Is that what you’re saying?”
His deep voice in her ear startled her slightly and her body jerked to full consciousness. She sat up and craned her neck to look down at him. The look on his face was unmistakable.
“Live the life you want to live, Bill,” she said. “That’s what I’m saying.”
He pulled her back down to him and shifted until he was lying on top of her, cradled between legs. Her heart pounded against her chest, the gravity of what was about to happen sending chills through her from head to toe. He hovered above her, his eyes searching hers, almost as if he were asking for permission. She very nearly rolled her eyes as she untied her wrap, pushed the fabric aside, and grabbed his hand, placing it firmly and squarely on her left breast. The thin cotton of her camisole did little to quell the sensation of his touch and she felt her nipple harden under it.
“Live the life you want to live,” she said again.
He lunged for her then and his mouth found hers in a clash of lips, teeth, and tongue. She grabbed at his coat, taking fistfuls of fabric, pulling him down to her. Her legs wrapped around his waist and she thrust her hips up to meet the hard ridge of his cock against her center. He pushed her shirt up, exposing her for mere seconds before his mouth descended upon her breast, his tongue licking and his teeth grazing. She reached down with one hand and tugged at the fabric of her skirt, pulling it up as he lifted his hips and unbuttoned his pants. She took him in her hand, savoring the weight of him, the way he growled as she squeezed him tight.
“It could all end tomorrow and I’d die a happy man,” he said, his lifting his head to meet her eyes.
She stroked up, then down, slowly and expertly, all the while tilting her pelvis beneath him. She guided him inside of her, pulling her hand away as he pushed further, as he filled her entirely. The sensation was exquisite, just what she had been missing, she though to herself, and she didn’t stop the groan that escaped from her mouth.
“Oh, Gods,” she whispered. “Frak me.”
His thrusts deepened then, picking up speed and strength. She couldn’t keep her eyes open and let them slip shut as her head fell back. He dropped his mouth down to her, unable to resist the pale expanse of her neck. He licked and sucked at the tendons, resisting the urge to bite, to leave his mark on her. He felt like a teenager, drunk with the pureness of feeling alive and in love, mind and body. He felt his release building quickly, felt it in each stroke in and out of her, with each moan that escaped her lips. He hurriedly reached down between them and found her clit, sending white hot sparks of sensation through her. Her body jerked with each pass of his fingers and seconds later she cried out, waves of intense pleasure flooding her every sense. His thrusts became near desperate, spurred by her orgasm, and seconds later he blissfully followed her over the edge.
His body collapsed next to hers, both of their chests heaving as they gulped for air. She started to laugh first, giggles erupting out of her as she turned her head to look at his slack jaw and sweaty brow. It was infectious and he followed suit, chuckling at the sight of her disheveled clothing and mussed hair. He laid his palm against her cheek then and kissed her softly.
“The life I want to live,” he said.
“Me, too,” she said, resting her hand on his against her face.
“My back hurts,” he said.
“Mine, too,” she said, starting to laugh again.
They helped each other up and straightened their clothes just as the sun began to rise over the horizon. He reached into the pocket on the inside of his jacket and pulled out one last joint.
“Shall we go watch the sun rise?” he asked, offering her his arm.
“I can’t think of a more fabulous idea,” she said.
Those Legs, Laura/Bill, prompts: legs, do you remember the first day we met?
“Do you remember the first day we met?” she asks.
Funny, he thinks, how eight little words can recall the most vivid sexual fantasy he’s ever had.
If he was going to be honest, he initially found her presence aboard the Galactica to be tiresome and irritating. She was a schoolteacher with no comprehension of what it had been like to fight on the frontlines against the Cylons and was therefore incapable of understanding his objection to the computer network. Moreover, she represented the end of the ship, of what had been his home, his career, and his life, and brought with her the alarming reminder that he couldn’t ever go back.
He really couldn’t be bothered with her.
But, frak...those legs.
He was very careful to avoid eye contact with her during the decommissioning ceremony. She approached him after his speech, thanked him for his time, and made a point of telling him what he already knew: the ship’s computers would be networked whether he liked it or not once he was gone. But she also said she hoped he would reconsider and allow the process to start with his consent. There was something about her that struck him, something haunting about the look in her eye.
He chose to ignore it and told her to have a nice trip back to Caprica.
He watched her board her ship, all the while wondering what it would feel like to have her legs wrapped around him.
He waited until he was off duty and in his quarters to fully explore such a fantasy. He sat at his desk and pushed aside the stack of papers awaiting his signature. He leaned back in his chair and unzipped pants, all the while picturing the look on her face as he slowly stripped her proper attire from her body. He stroked himself through his boxers as he imagined the sounds she would make as he pushed her against the wall and covered her mouth with his. He wrapped his fist around his now-freed erection and pumped himself hard, eyes closed tight as he envisioned sliding inside of her, fucking her. He could see it all, how he’d lift her up, her back against the cold hard metal of the ship’s wall, then pull her down until she sheathed his cock. He’d reach down and pull one of her long, slender legs up, wrap it around him, and drive into her over and over until she was screaming his name.
He came hard, the swiftness of his release surprising him. He hadn’t fantasized so vividly about a woman in years.
He went to the restroom and cleaned himself up. He returned to his desk and grabbed a book, tossing any further thoughts of Laura Roslin (and her legs) aside. Best not to wish for that which you can’t have, after all.
His phone buzzed.
“CIC to commanding officer.”
“Bill!,” she says, her tone sharp.
He startles from his memory and focuses on her again, sitting on his couch in her robe. He smiles.
“Yes, Laura, I remember the first day we met.”
“You were such a bastard,” she says.
He laughs. “You were kind of a pain in the ass yourself,” he says.
“Yes,” she acknowledges, smiling as she adjusts the scarf around her head.
His own smile fades, once again the reality of her fate washing over him. He’s never wished so hard for that which he can’t have.
“I didn’t mind, though,” he says.
“No?”
“No,” he says. “Not with legs like that.”
“These old things?” she asks, batting her eyelashes at him as she stretches her legs out along the couch.
“It’s hard not to notice them, you know,” he tells her, getting up from his chair to join her.
“Oh, I saw you noticing them, alright,” she says as he sits at her feet.
“And here I thought I was being subtle,” he says, running one hand up her calf. “From the moment I met you, I wanted to know just what those legs could do.”
“C’mere,” she says. “And I’ll show you.”
Never Enough Time, Laura/Bill, prompt: who wants to live forever?
She was lying in his bed when he returned to his quarters, on her side with her back to him. Her hair fanned out behind her head, shining bright under the small reading lamp at the head of the bed. He smiled, the thrill of her, of them, was still fairly new and it still made his heart flutter. He undressed and readied himself for bed quietly before turning the light off and slipping under the covers beside her. He and nestled against her carefully, his right arm slipping around her waist in a light embrace, and settled in for sleep.
“It’s back,” she said, her voice cutting through the dark and startling him.
“I thought you were asleep,” he said, placing a soft kiss against the back of her head.
She turned in his arms until she faced him, their noses nearly touching. He brushed back the errant strands of hair from her face and felt knots form in his stomach as soon as he saw the look in her eyes.
“What’s back?” he asked, knowing very well the answer, but needing her to say the words.
“My cancer,” she said.
He reached up and over his head, switching the lamp on again. Silence hung in the air as he held her body against him once again, as their eyes locked and spoke of fear, anger, denial, and love. She moved first, placing her mouth on his softly at first, then with more urgency, begging for entrance between his lips. He parted his mouth, allowing her inside, the sweet taste of her tongue sending jolts of arousal straight to his cock.
They stripped each others’ clothes off quickly, tossing them and the bedcovers aside as the heat grew between them. He nudged her until she lay on her stomach, shifting himself to sit on his knees, straddling the backs of her thighs. She looked back over her shoulder at him, watched his eyes survey the curves and valleys of her body before him. His cock stood at attention just above the swell of her ass and she instinctively lifted her hips. He rested one gentle hand at the small of her back while the other guided himself inside her, wet and ready to receive him. His thrusts were soft and reverent, his lips soft as he braced himself just above her to place kisses against the length of her spine.
“Harder,” she said, turning again to catch his eye. “I need more.”
His grip on her waist tightened, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, as his movements picked up speed and urgency. She braced herself on her elbows as he drove into her over and over, eliciting deep moans from her with each forward thrust.
“Oh, Gods,” she cried out suddenly, her body beginning to shake. “Right there...”
Her body throbbed around him with her orgasm, bringing him to the brink. Her body was limp as he pulled it towards him, as he pushed inside of her once, twice, three more times, and as she squeezed her inner muscles around him, he finally found his release.
Her head was turned to the wall again as he fell on his back next to her again, both of their bodies slick with sweat. His heart was still pounding in his chest as he reached a hand to her shoulder.
“Laura...”
She turned then, her eyes glistening with tears. She laid her head on his chest and wrapped her body around his, holding on tight.
“How long?” he asked.
“Hard to say,” she said. “But not long. Even with treatment.”
His breath caught in his throat and he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. It’s not enough time, he thought to himself. But then again, it never would be.
“Who wants to live forever anyway?” she said, her voice thick.
He felt the heat of his tears as they fell and the moisture of hers as she buried her head in his neck. There weren’t any words left to say right then and he listened as she eventually fell asleep. He found comfort in the steady, even rhythm of her breathing and warm weight of her body against him, proof undeniable of just how alive she was right then and there.
That night, for him, sleep never came.
Can't Go Back, Kara/Sam, prompt: desperation
The morning air was cold enough to make you shiver, but her skin was hot against him as he peeled off her clothes.
“Faster,” she said, taking his bottom lip between her teeth. “I need you to frak me and I need you to do it now.”
Her fingers pulled at the zipper of his pants, her hands rough as she reached inside and pulled at the hard length of his cock. He picked her up, intending to toss her on her back on the bed, but she protested.
“No,” she said. “Here. Now.”
She turned her back to him, grasping the metal support rod of the tent above her head. He pressed his body against her from behind, entering her quickly, easily. He dug his nails into the swell of her hips as he fucked her and his head fell back as she jerked against him, thrust for thrust, giving as good as she got.
He reached around with determined fingers to where they were joined only to find hers already there. He watched her, eyes squeezed shut, demanding release from her body. She found it quickly, bringing him with her as her body went into spasms under him.
She stepped forward and away from him, extricating herself without a word. They dressed in silence, her eyes never meeting his stare. She moved to leave.
“Kara,” he said, his tone imploring.
“What is is, Sam?” he asked, finally looking at him.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Our first frak as man and wife,” she said after several long minutes. “Let’s go get a drink to celebrate already.”
She left the tent and he followed.