Battlestar Galactica/Heroes: In and Out (Kara/Mohinder | T | 500w)
[ Kara Thrace/Mohinder Suresh | T | 500w | 2007-09-20, 21 | Mirror ]
“What’s a pretty boy like you doing in a place like this?” (Written for the sekrit cabal porn battle, prompt: bar.)
In and Out
“What’s a pretty boy like you doing in a place like this?” The woman asked, taking a seat next to Mohinder without so much as a by-your-leave.
“Pardon me?” He said, looking at her with knitted brows, swiveling his bar stool to get a better view.
“You heard me. Pretty boy. You. Place like this. It’s a pretty standard pick-up for this timeline, isn’t it?”
“This timeline?” The brow furrow deepened. “I’m afraid I that I don’t follow.”
The woman sighed-not a small gasp of escaping breath, but with her whole frame, loud gusty air.
“Look. I have four hours to kill before I get picked up, so if you could give me a simple yes or no here, that’d be helpful.”
Mohinder was further confused when the bartender, a burly man who wielded his towel like a weapon and had barely deigned to take Mohinder’s order (not to mention he’d grabbed the ten-dollar bill of payment with such authority it had seemed wiser to let the four-dollar tip slide rather than ask for change), served the woman a shot of whiskey without her making any signal at all.
He watched her knock it back, the muscles of her throat gulping once, swift, erotically aggressiveness.
“Yes,” he said after she slammed the shot glass down, fairly certain that any other answer would be bad for his health.
She smiled like she planned to eat him alive, and frankly-he couldn’t find it in himself to mind in the least.
*
She moved above him like Artemis on the hunt, a ferocious arch that seemed to capture light and hold it. The muscles of her thighs pinned him in place, and he held onto her hips not to steady her, but himself.
Starbuck, she’d said her name was as she’d yanked down his pants, pushing him back onto the mattress. He couldn’t think of a more appropriate name for her, the wide smile and fighter’s body clashing up against him.
She laughed and screamed and scratched and bit; he clung and shuddered into her, like touching perfect chaos.
*
“Thanks for the good time, Mo,” she said around the cigar in her mouth as she pulled up her pants. “I may have to look you up if I ever drop in these parts again.”
Mohinder smiled, sprawled naked on the bed, head propped on his arms.
“I would be hard pressed to refuse you.”
Starbuck laughed. “You could always try.” She buckled straps to her chest. “Wouldn’t do you any good.”
She gave him a two-fingered salute and headed for the door. On impulse, he asked, “And where are you going?”
She stopped, hand on the knob, and turned back. Her grin was framed in the light of the hallway.
“To fly.”
He nodded, like he’d known the answer all along.
“Safe journeys, Starbuck.”
“The name’s Kara,” she said, abruptly, and then closed the door, gone just as quickly as she’d come in.
“What’s a pretty boy like you doing in a place like this?” (Written for the sekrit cabal porn battle, prompt: bar.)
In and Out
“What’s a pretty boy like you doing in a place like this?” The woman asked, taking a seat next to Mohinder without so much as a by-your-leave.
“Pardon me?” He said, looking at her with knitted brows, swiveling his bar stool to get a better view.
“You heard me. Pretty boy. You. Place like this. It’s a pretty standard pick-up for this timeline, isn’t it?”
“This timeline?” The brow furrow deepened. “I’m afraid I that I don’t follow.”
The woman sighed-not a small gasp of escaping breath, but with her whole frame, loud gusty air.
“Look. I have four hours to kill before I get picked up, so if you could give me a simple yes or no here, that’d be helpful.”
Mohinder was further confused when the bartender, a burly man who wielded his towel like a weapon and had barely deigned to take Mohinder’s order (not to mention he’d grabbed the ten-dollar bill of payment with such authority it had seemed wiser to let the four-dollar tip slide rather than ask for change), served the woman a shot of whiskey without her making any signal at all.
He watched her knock it back, the muscles of her throat gulping once, swift, erotically aggressiveness.
“Yes,” he said after she slammed the shot glass down, fairly certain that any other answer would be bad for his health.
She smiled like she planned to eat him alive, and frankly-he couldn’t find it in himself to mind in the least.
*
She moved above him like Artemis on the hunt, a ferocious arch that seemed to capture light and hold it. The muscles of her thighs pinned him in place, and he held onto her hips not to steady her, but himself.
Starbuck, she’d said her name was as she’d yanked down his pants, pushing him back onto the mattress. He couldn’t think of a more appropriate name for her, the wide smile and fighter’s body clashing up against him.
She laughed and screamed and scratched and bit; he clung and shuddered into her, like touching perfect chaos.
*
“Thanks for the good time, Mo,” she said around the cigar in her mouth as she pulled up her pants. “I may have to look you up if I ever drop in these parts again.”
Mohinder smiled, sprawled naked on the bed, head propped on his arms.
“I would be hard pressed to refuse you.”
Starbuck laughed. “You could always try.” She buckled straps to her chest. “Wouldn’t do you any good.”
She gave him a two-fingered salute and headed for the door. On impulse, he asked, “And where are you going?”
She stopped, hand on the knob, and turned back. Her grin was framed in the light of the hallway.
“To fly.”
He nodded, like he’d known the answer all along.
“Safe journeys, Starbuck.”
“The name’s Kara,” she said, abruptly, and then closed the door, gone just as quickly as she’d come in.