BSG fic: Strike (Lee/Caprica, NC-17)
Title: Strike
Pairing: Lee/Caprica
Rating: NC-17 like whoa
Summary: Future. Umm, I cannot conceive of a logistical way this would happen in the reality of the show as we know it, so we shall call it something like AU. 3000 words.
Note: I wish I could explain where this came from. I can't. I swear, I was looking for Anders porn, and suddenly a platinum blonde came along, and she apparently prefers them shorter and more emo. :)
Strike
"Sometimes it's hard to believe you're alive, like we are," he says. Absurdly, because his mouth was on her spine just a few moments ago when it lit up like a piece of iron in a forge, red hot and malleable. She's draped over him now, her mouth plucking lazily at the soft skin around his navel, and she looks finished again. Complete. She always does, no matter how many times he's made her moan and shiver and come undone. There's still that inhuman center to her. He's beginning to think that's not necessarily the worst thing in the universe, if it makes her this strong. Impervious.
But not entirely. At his comment, her eyes snapped open-wide, surprised. He loves the way he can slip through the cracks in her, penetrate her icy reserve. Icy only now that it's over and despite his hand skating up her back and the warmth of her thighs threaded through his and the way he can still feel her mouth on his cock. Traces of her saliva feel cool all over his skin but especially around his crown. He can feel the barest, best scrape of teeth there, too.
He thinks for a minute that she's angry, although he doesn't mind so much if she is. In truth, he rather likes it when she turns to stone. But tonight, she throws her head back, exposing a neck spotted with bruises new and old, and just laughs.
"Would it be easier if I weren't?" she replies in that purr of hers, and she slides up along his body so suddenly, her wet pussy settling against one of his thighs, her pubic hair tickling against his. Her tits are in his face, those perfect curves ending in the hard points of her nipples. There are bruises there, too.
"No."
"Then what do you mean? Or was that one of those things that's supposed to sound profound?" She raises an eyebrow.
He smiles, unable to reply for a moment as a flush comes over his face. But he pulls his voice under control as he replies, "You're older than I am."
"Technically, I suppose."
"You should be dead by now."
"I have been."
He doesn't shudder. A few weeks ago, he might have, but not now. He says "I mean, you should be done."
"I have been that, too."
"Yet here you are."
"And I've chosen to take a human to bed."
"Yes. I wonder."
"Shouldn't you be the one wondering why you'd willingly frak a Cylon?"
"I should."
She reaches between his legs and slides her palm along his length, but it hasn't been long enough yet. His cock lies there soft against his thigh, and she doesn't seem to mind. Her fingers are smooth, careful as they swirl over the head. He squirms a little, but it's not unpleasant and she doesn't stop.
"I'm not done," she says. "Living."
"I see that."
"But you don't understand."
"I'm not sure I'm supposed to."
He thinks he sees a ghost of a smile flit over her face as she leans over him and presses her lips to his chest, just above a nipple. The hand on his cock slips around his balls and brushes, feather light, against his asshole.
She murmurs against his skin. "You humans do it all the time, you know."
"What?"
"Start again. Shed everything and reemerge. A shame you don't have something physical like a rebirth to mark it."
"I haven't-"
Her face sweeps up and her mouth closes over his unexpectedly. She likes to use her mouth to do so many things, to suck his cock or sometimes lick her tongue around the pucker of his asshole, but her mouth rarely finds his. He's stopped expecting it to, so it's always a shock when it does.
Her tongue darts into his mouth to quiet him, but once she's sure he won't speak, her lips draw back and her tongue traces its way along the inside of his lower lip. She makes these noises, soft and low, as she slowly, so slowly goes deeper and deeper until he can't breathe. But that never lasts for long, and he's almost sure that's more about her than him.
"You have," she says against his lips, teasing again. Maybe not teasing, exactly. Hovering. Close enough but not too close. "You have been reborn. Many times."
"I don't think it's that simple. When you resurrect, you remember everything."
"Of course," she murmurs, her mouth on his chest again. Her thigh slides up until it nudges against his cock.
"So you're still you."
"Yes."
"I have these days," he starts. He suddenly needs to be touching more of her, so he makes his hands move again, pausing to knead at her shoulders before they travel down her back. He imagines he can feel that red hot line of her spine, except now there's nothing to strike against it, no hammer. They're just caught up in the low simmer of this fire between them. He traces her spine with his fingers, feeling every vertebrae, hoping she doesn't know how much he's concentrating on it. He says, "Sometimes, I wake up and things have…shifted. Even if it's nothing I can put my finger on, nothing important that's happened, everything's changed. I want different things. I feel different things."
"Resurrecting is very much like that, only we know the why."
"But I never know when it's coming on, just when it's happened."
"We rarely know, either."
Swiftly, he rolls them until she's on her back beneath him, her legs falling open and then coming up around his hips. He's still only half hard, but it feels good to rub against her. Her hands creep up to her tits, and she rolls her nipples between her fingers, watching him. When he bends down to take one in his mouth, she closes her eyes and her thighs tighten around his.
He sucks one nipple then the other into a point until she's writhing, wiggling her hips into his, slowly and forcefully, like she doesn't know he's still only half hard and can't do anything about it or she doesn't care. When she moans-he can feel the vibrations in her chest, the way they travel up through his lips-his cock finally surges and lengthens again. He's overcome by the need to just drive into her, throw her ankles up over his shoulders and slip in as far as her body will allow, but she pulls him down tight against her, leaving them rutting against each other, and says in his ear:
"You should give me a name."
"What?" His hips slow. "Why? No."
She seems to have expected the answer, because she says calmly, "Why not?"
"You just can't…name a person." He thinks, And I don't want to be the one to mark you that way.
"Isn't that how it always happens? A person can't name herself. I wouldn't know how anyway."
"C'mon," he says with a smile. "You already have a name, one from long before the third war. That's quite a distinction."
He realizes, then, that her eyes have snapped open and this time, there's no mistake: she's not angry or amused, simply astonished. It occurs to him that just because he knows who she is, that doesn't mean she knows he knows. They've never used names; it's not in the nature of what they do. She must've thought he believed he was frakking some random number six. All these weeks. Like he doesn't think of her as being an individual, or else if she is, who she is doesn't matter. But it matters more than anything.
He's suddenly anxious, but not for long, because she's not bewildered for long. Her body begins to twist against his again, but more slowly.
She says darkly, "I don't have a name. I have a planet. A dead one, in a nuclear winter."
"I like your name."
Instead of rolling her eyes, she just smiles enigmatically and says, "Well, I like your name, too, the one you've never given me."
"Because that's not what we do here." But isn't it? a voice inside him asks, or maybe he simply sees it on her face. He adds, "Besides, you know who I am."
"I know who you were. You were Major Adama, one of the heroes of the war, one of the signers of the treaty of Mars. But what should I call you now?"
"You could give me a new name, too."
"And then it would be fair?"
"Sure."
"But your name suits you."
"So does yours."
"Why?"
"The sound of the word. Sharp." He thrusts a little, making his cock slip against her pussy. "Bright. Warm." Against her collarbone, he mumbles, "Beautiful."
"That's not me," she almost snaps. Almost, but it's enough.
"Not this you, or not you you?"
She shakes his question off, and in doing so shakes off her annoyance. She smiles and says, "You have the name of a normal, everyday sort of person. Perhaps brilliant, perhaps just a fool, more likely something in between. Or maybe both at once. Definitely the kind of man who would lay cubits on my nightstand because it makes it easier to frak me from behind."
"But you told me to stop paying you."
"And I like it when you frak me from behind."
The words rush to his lips, like words tend to when he's with her. He says, "It has nothing to do with not looking you in the eyes."
"Which is why you don't pay me like I'm a prostitute anymore."
"You aren't, are you?"
"No."
"Then why…?"
"Why did you pay me?"
"Seemed like the thing to do."
She laughs bitterly, stretching back against the headboard, laid out beneath him in a way that makes him damn near ache with wanting to be inside her, but not yet. He'll wait. He always waits.
"Mmm," she says. "Your time for using. But it's nothing you're all that accustomed to, is it? No matter how comfortable it might be."
He eyes her warily.
She continues. "Normally, you lie down in the path of so many things, just praying to be stepped on. Really, it was only a matter of time before you needed to shove your dick into something that needed a good frakking."
"Stop that."
"Stop what?"
"You're not a machine."
She makes a confused face, smoothed over instantly with something just this side of patronizing. "That's not what I said."
"Don't call yourself 'something,' then."
She snorts at that, but softly. "I won't if you'll admit a part of you likes treating me like I am."
"I don't-"
"It doesn't make you an evil person. Or heartless. You need it. You can't deny that.
"No."
"But you've never said it."
"You need me to say it?"
"That you like taking and taking and taking from me."
Her hips shove up into his insistently. "Yes," he says, holding his body tight to hers. Almost. Almost.
"You like making me take it."
"Because you let me."
She opens her lips in a round oh, ready to reply, but he reaches down and guides himself inside her, pushing in so fast she gives a pleased whimper. Then he begins thrusting slowly, not pulling out very much.
"You like that?" he asks. "You like having my cock inside you? You like having a human frakking you and coming inside you?"
Her head falls back, and her lips curl up into a smile of ecstasy. "Not just any human. You."
"Why me?"
"So serious all the time."
"But you like…doing this…because you can make me…fall apart."
"I like that you're so-" She suddenly brings her hips up sharply to meet his "-serious when you do."
"Like this?" He shoves into her even harder, holding her shoulders down with his hands.
"Yes," she says in a sigh of air. But that mischievous grin never quite faded, because it comes back full force. "Oh, but when you smile, you're so-- Oh"
He speeds up, creating a rolling rhythm with his hips, and her heels dig into his back as she holds on, fingernails scraping along the top of his hips. He growls, "None of your people…frak you like this?"
"People?" she gasps out. "No."
"You like the way my cock feels…stretching you like this…filling you up?"
"You are-- Oh, you're so thick."
She's so wet now that he's in danger of sliding completely out each time he pulls back, so he pushes himself down on top of her, chest to chest, as he thrusts deep and grinds. She moans, low and throaty, and pulls him tighter. He'll have bruises of his own, finger marks on his neck. He grinds again, feeling her walls squeezing around him. Then he pulls out and slams back in, feeling the smack of his skin against hers, the heave of her tits making him want to do it again, so he does.
"Oh, God," she moans. "Frak me."
"You need it bad, don't you?"
"Harder."
He raises up off her and watches as her thighs fall even further apart as he drills into her. "Take it."
"Harder."
"Like this?"
"So good. Deeper."
"You need this. You need me going deep…into your tight-- hot-- cunt."
"God, please." He speeds up his strokes and she shivers under him, back arching, hips rolling. "Please, Lee."
Something inside him shifts, like he'd suddenly come back to his body even if he's never left it. He finds himself thrusting into her almost desperately, and he nearly loses his rhythm, nearly slips out of her. At that last correction of his body, he finds himself rolling them until she's on top. If she's disorientated by the change, she doesn't show it. She just stretches out over him and goes back to frakking him just as hard as he was frakking her.
Soon, she's shuddering and clawing at her tits, and he knows she's close. He slips his hands over hers until she's letting him take over pinching her nipples. Her hands fist into the sheets when she leans back over him and he can tell by the angle of her thrusts and the way she's squeezing into them that she's trying to pushing toward something that's coming but she can't quite push through to it.
"Please," she moans. "Lee, please." She sounds so raw, vulnerable. He's made her so. He always makes her so, but he doesn't always pay attention like this.
"I got you," he says as his arms come up under hers and meet around her back, palms flat to her skin, feeling her breath stuttering, he body trembling. He puts his mouth to her ear and says as low as he dares: "I'm gonna come in you so hard, and then I'm gonna lick you and suck you until you come over and over and-"
She howls something incoherent, shoving her hand down between them to where their bodies join just before she comes. Her cunt squeezes around him as her whole body suddenly unfurls and she thrusts against him sloppy and hard and wet and he comes with a sort of laugh, like relief except it's so devastating, like he's been laid open, just for a moment. Not quite long enough to panic, though, because suddenly something warm comes over him, making a circuit of his body and closing him off again.
When she finally pulls off him, she lets him put her on her back again and settle between her legs, to do as he promised. Yet her hand rubs at his scalp lazily, and when he kisses the inside of her thigh, she finally says it:
"Another time, Lee."
He feels the flush creep over his body again. Lee. He forces a friendly, seductive smile and says, "But I'm good at this."
"I know you are."
"Let me. Please?"
She laughs, a sudden peal of music. Not particularly graceful, or maybe it's simply that it doesn't sound like her, even if it sounds completely genuine.
She asks, "Do you keep a tally sheet or something?"
"No." Not of sorts, he thinks. Two tonight. Maybe three. She's so noisy it's hard to tell sometimes.
His hands drift up the insides of her thighs, marveling at how soft the skin is, how hot to the touch. Like she's just as real as he is. Maybe more so, somehow.
After a moment of silence, she asks, "Why does it bother you to hear me call you by your name?"
"It shouldn't. It's who I am."
"That's not what I asked."
He lets one hand come up over her mound, and his thumb skims along one of the lips of her pussy, slow and without teasing. Just admiring. "You are so very very alive, aren't you?"
She doesn't reply, just arches ever so slightly into his touch. She must be sensitive, still, but her body shifts toward his anyway.
He says, "I'm sorry I ever tried to pay you."
"You didn't try. You succeeded. I let you. Maybe I needed to be someone's whore."
"Not someone's. Mine."
"Yes."
He leans forward, breathing her in, tasting her scent on his tongue, mingled with his own. He kisses the join of her thigh and says, "Let me do this, Caprica."
She makes a sound he's never heard before, but it seems like acquiescence. As his lips and tongue go to work, his hands slide around her hips, his fingers digging in to the hollow of her spine where he knows that impossibly hot core of her is, that thing as strong as iron. He thinks he could frak her a million times and never quite reach it, never quite strike to the heart of her, to make her bend.
Good, he thinks. Good for her.
~
Pairing: Lee/Caprica
Rating: NC-17 like whoa
Summary: Future. Umm, I cannot conceive of a logistical way this would happen in the reality of the show as we know it, so we shall call it something like AU. 3000 words.
Note: I wish I could explain where this came from. I can't. I swear, I was looking for Anders porn, and suddenly a platinum blonde came along, and she apparently prefers them shorter and more emo. :)
Strike
"Sometimes it's hard to believe you're alive, like we are," he says. Absurdly, because his mouth was on her spine just a few moments ago when it lit up like a piece of iron in a forge, red hot and malleable. She's draped over him now, her mouth plucking lazily at the soft skin around his navel, and she looks finished again. Complete. She always does, no matter how many times he's made her moan and shiver and come undone. There's still that inhuman center to her. He's beginning to think that's not necessarily the worst thing in the universe, if it makes her this strong. Impervious.
But not entirely. At his comment, her eyes snapped open-wide, surprised. He loves the way he can slip through the cracks in her, penetrate her icy reserve. Icy only now that it's over and despite his hand skating up her back and the warmth of her thighs threaded through his and the way he can still feel her mouth on his cock. Traces of her saliva feel cool all over his skin but especially around his crown. He can feel the barest, best scrape of teeth there, too.
He thinks for a minute that she's angry, although he doesn't mind so much if she is. In truth, he rather likes it when she turns to stone. But tonight, she throws her head back, exposing a neck spotted with bruises new and old, and just laughs.
"Would it be easier if I weren't?" she replies in that purr of hers, and she slides up along his body so suddenly, her wet pussy settling against one of his thighs, her pubic hair tickling against his. Her tits are in his face, those perfect curves ending in the hard points of her nipples. There are bruises there, too.
"No."
"Then what do you mean? Or was that one of those things that's supposed to sound profound?" She raises an eyebrow.
He smiles, unable to reply for a moment as a flush comes over his face. But he pulls his voice under control as he replies, "You're older than I am."
"Technically, I suppose."
"You should be dead by now."
"I have been."
He doesn't shudder. A few weeks ago, he might have, but not now. He says "I mean, you should be done."
"I have been that, too."
"Yet here you are."
"And I've chosen to take a human to bed."
"Yes. I wonder."
"Shouldn't you be the one wondering why you'd willingly frak a Cylon?"
"I should."
She reaches between his legs and slides her palm along his length, but it hasn't been long enough yet. His cock lies there soft against his thigh, and she doesn't seem to mind. Her fingers are smooth, careful as they swirl over the head. He squirms a little, but it's not unpleasant and she doesn't stop.
"I'm not done," she says. "Living."
"I see that."
"But you don't understand."
"I'm not sure I'm supposed to."
He thinks he sees a ghost of a smile flit over her face as she leans over him and presses her lips to his chest, just above a nipple. The hand on his cock slips around his balls and brushes, feather light, against his asshole.
She murmurs against his skin. "You humans do it all the time, you know."
"What?"
"Start again. Shed everything and reemerge. A shame you don't have something physical like a rebirth to mark it."
"I haven't-"
Her face sweeps up and her mouth closes over his unexpectedly. She likes to use her mouth to do so many things, to suck his cock or sometimes lick her tongue around the pucker of his asshole, but her mouth rarely finds his. He's stopped expecting it to, so it's always a shock when it does.
Her tongue darts into his mouth to quiet him, but once she's sure he won't speak, her lips draw back and her tongue traces its way along the inside of his lower lip. She makes these noises, soft and low, as she slowly, so slowly goes deeper and deeper until he can't breathe. But that never lasts for long, and he's almost sure that's more about her than him.
"You have," she says against his lips, teasing again. Maybe not teasing, exactly. Hovering. Close enough but not too close. "You have been reborn. Many times."
"I don't think it's that simple. When you resurrect, you remember everything."
"Of course," she murmurs, her mouth on his chest again. Her thigh slides up until it nudges against his cock.
"So you're still you."
"Yes."
"I have these days," he starts. He suddenly needs to be touching more of her, so he makes his hands move again, pausing to knead at her shoulders before they travel down her back. He imagines he can feel that red hot line of her spine, except now there's nothing to strike against it, no hammer. They're just caught up in the low simmer of this fire between them. He traces her spine with his fingers, feeling every vertebrae, hoping she doesn't know how much he's concentrating on it. He says, "Sometimes, I wake up and things have…shifted. Even if it's nothing I can put my finger on, nothing important that's happened, everything's changed. I want different things. I feel different things."
"Resurrecting is very much like that, only we know the why."
"But I never know when it's coming on, just when it's happened."
"We rarely know, either."
Swiftly, he rolls them until she's on her back beneath him, her legs falling open and then coming up around his hips. He's still only half hard, but it feels good to rub against her. Her hands creep up to her tits, and she rolls her nipples between her fingers, watching him. When he bends down to take one in his mouth, she closes her eyes and her thighs tighten around his.
He sucks one nipple then the other into a point until she's writhing, wiggling her hips into his, slowly and forcefully, like she doesn't know he's still only half hard and can't do anything about it or she doesn't care. When she moans-he can feel the vibrations in her chest, the way they travel up through his lips-his cock finally surges and lengthens again. He's overcome by the need to just drive into her, throw her ankles up over his shoulders and slip in as far as her body will allow, but she pulls him down tight against her, leaving them rutting against each other, and says in his ear:
"You should give me a name."
"What?" His hips slow. "Why? No."
She seems to have expected the answer, because she says calmly, "Why not?"
"You just can't…name a person." He thinks, And I don't want to be the one to mark you that way.
"Isn't that how it always happens? A person can't name herself. I wouldn't know how anyway."
"C'mon," he says with a smile. "You already have a name, one from long before the third war. That's quite a distinction."
He realizes, then, that her eyes have snapped open and this time, there's no mistake: she's not angry or amused, simply astonished. It occurs to him that just because he knows who she is, that doesn't mean she knows he knows. They've never used names; it's not in the nature of what they do. She must've thought he believed he was frakking some random number six. All these weeks. Like he doesn't think of her as being an individual, or else if she is, who she is doesn't matter. But it matters more than anything.
He's suddenly anxious, but not for long, because she's not bewildered for long. Her body begins to twist against his again, but more slowly.
She says darkly, "I don't have a name. I have a planet. A dead one, in a nuclear winter."
"I like your name."
Instead of rolling her eyes, she just smiles enigmatically and says, "Well, I like your name, too, the one you've never given me."
"Because that's not what we do here." But isn't it? a voice inside him asks, or maybe he simply sees it on her face. He adds, "Besides, you know who I am."
"I know who you were. You were Major Adama, one of the heroes of the war, one of the signers of the treaty of Mars. But what should I call you now?"
"You could give me a new name, too."
"And then it would be fair?"
"Sure."
"But your name suits you."
"So does yours."
"Why?"
"The sound of the word. Sharp." He thrusts a little, making his cock slip against her pussy. "Bright. Warm." Against her collarbone, he mumbles, "Beautiful."
"That's not me," she almost snaps. Almost, but it's enough.
"Not this you, or not you you?"
She shakes his question off, and in doing so shakes off her annoyance. She smiles and says, "You have the name of a normal, everyday sort of person. Perhaps brilliant, perhaps just a fool, more likely something in between. Or maybe both at once. Definitely the kind of man who would lay cubits on my nightstand because it makes it easier to frak me from behind."
"But you told me to stop paying you."
"And I like it when you frak me from behind."
The words rush to his lips, like words tend to when he's with her. He says, "It has nothing to do with not looking you in the eyes."
"Which is why you don't pay me like I'm a prostitute anymore."
"You aren't, are you?"
"No."
"Then why…?"
"Why did you pay me?"
"Seemed like the thing to do."
She laughs bitterly, stretching back against the headboard, laid out beneath him in a way that makes him damn near ache with wanting to be inside her, but not yet. He'll wait. He always waits.
"Mmm," she says. "Your time for using. But it's nothing you're all that accustomed to, is it? No matter how comfortable it might be."
He eyes her warily.
She continues. "Normally, you lie down in the path of so many things, just praying to be stepped on. Really, it was only a matter of time before you needed to shove your dick into something that needed a good frakking."
"Stop that."
"Stop what?"
"You're not a machine."
She makes a confused face, smoothed over instantly with something just this side of patronizing. "That's not what I said."
"Don't call yourself 'something,' then."
She snorts at that, but softly. "I won't if you'll admit a part of you likes treating me like I am."
"I don't-"
"It doesn't make you an evil person. Or heartless. You need it. You can't deny that.
"No."
"But you've never said it."
"You need me to say it?"
"That you like taking and taking and taking from me."
Her hips shove up into his insistently. "Yes," he says, holding his body tight to hers. Almost. Almost.
"You like making me take it."
"Because you let me."
She opens her lips in a round oh, ready to reply, but he reaches down and guides himself inside her, pushing in so fast she gives a pleased whimper. Then he begins thrusting slowly, not pulling out very much.
"You like that?" he asks. "You like having my cock inside you? You like having a human frakking you and coming inside you?"
Her head falls back, and her lips curl up into a smile of ecstasy. "Not just any human. You."
"Why me?"
"So serious all the time."
"But you like…doing this…because you can make me…fall apart."
"I like that you're so-" She suddenly brings her hips up sharply to meet his "-serious when you do."
"Like this?" He shoves into her even harder, holding her shoulders down with his hands.
"Yes," she says in a sigh of air. But that mischievous grin never quite faded, because it comes back full force. "Oh, but when you smile, you're so-- Oh"
He speeds up, creating a rolling rhythm with his hips, and her heels dig into his back as she holds on, fingernails scraping along the top of his hips. He growls, "None of your people…frak you like this?"
"People?" she gasps out. "No."
"You like the way my cock feels…stretching you like this…filling you up?"
"You are-- Oh, you're so thick."
She's so wet now that he's in danger of sliding completely out each time he pulls back, so he pushes himself down on top of her, chest to chest, as he thrusts deep and grinds. She moans, low and throaty, and pulls him tighter. He'll have bruises of his own, finger marks on his neck. He grinds again, feeling her walls squeezing around him. Then he pulls out and slams back in, feeling the smack of his skin against hers, the heave of her tits making him want to do it again, so he does.
"Oh, God," she moans. "Frak me."
"You need it bad, don't you?"
"Harder."
He raises up off her and watches as her thighs fall even further apart as he drills into her. "Take it."
"Harder."
"Like this?"
"So good. Deeper."
"You need this. You need me going deep…into your tight-- hot-- cunt."
"God, please." He speeds up his strokes and she shivers under him, back arching, hips rolling. "Please, Lee."
Something inside him shifts, like he'd suddenly come back to his body even if he's never left it. He finds himself thrusting into her almost desperately, and he nearly loses his rhythm, nearly slips out of her. At that last correction of his body, he finds himself rolling them until she's on top. If she's disorientated by the change, she doesn't show it. She just stretches out over him and goes back to frakking him just as hard as he was frakking her.
Soon, she's shuddering and clawing at her tits, and he knows she's close. He slips his hands over hers until she's letting him take over pinching her nipples. Her hands fist into the sheets when she leans back over him and he can tell by the angle of her thrusts and the way she's squeezing into them that she's trying to pushing toward something that's coming but she can't quite push through to it.
"Please," she moans. "Lee, please." She sounds so raw, vulnerable. He's made her so. He always makes her so, but he doesn't always pay attention like this.
"I got you," he says as his arms come up under hers and meet around her back, palms flat to her skin, feeling her breath stuttering, he body trembling. He puts his mouth to her ear and says as low as he dares: "I'm gonna come in you so hard, and then I'm gonna lick you and suck you until you come over and over and-"
She howls something incoherent, shoving her hand down between them to where their bodies join just before she comes. Her cunt squeezes around him as her whole body suddenly unfurls and she thrusts against him sloppy and hard and wet and he comes with a sort of laugh, like relief except it's so devastating, like he's been laid open, just for a moment. Not quite long enough to panic, though, because suddenly something warm comes over him, making a circuit of his body and closing him off again.
When she finally pulls off him, she lets him put her on her back again and settle between her legs, to do as he promised. Yet her hand rubs at his scalp lazily, and when he kisses the inside of her thigh, she finally says it:
"Another time, Lee."
He feels the flush creep over his body again. Lee. He forces a friendly, seductive smile and says, "But I'm good at this."
"I know you are."
"Let me. Please?"
She laughs, a sudden peal of music. Not particularly graceful, or maybe it's simply that it doesn't sound like her, even if it sounds completely genuine.
She asks, "Do you keep a tally sheet or something?"
"No." Not of sorts, he thinks. Two tonight. Maybe three. She's so noisy it's hard to tell sometimes.
His hands drift up the insides of her thighs, marveling at how soft the skin is, how hot to the touch. Like she's just as real as he is. Maybe more so, somehow.
After a moment of silence, she asks, "Why does it bother you to hear me call you by your name?"
"It shouldn't. It's who I am."
"That's not what I asked."
He lets one hand come up over her mound, and his thumb skims along one of the lips of her pussy, slow and without teasing. Just admiring. "You are so very very alive, aren't you?"
She doesn't reply, just arches ever so slightly into his touch. She must be sensitive, still, but her body shifts toward his anyway.
He says, "I'm sorry I ever tried to pay you."
"You didn't try. You succeeded. I let you. Maybe I needed to be someone's whore."
"Not someone's. Mine."
"Yes."
He leans forward, breathing her in, tasting her scent on his tongue, mingled with his own. He kisses the join of her thigh and says, "Let me do this, Caprica."
She makes a sound he's never heard before, but it seems like acquiescence. As his lips and tongue go to work, his hands slide around her hips, his fingers digging in to the hollow of her spine where he knows that impossibly hot core of her is, that thing as strong as iron. He thinks he could frak her a million times and never quite reach it, never quite strike to the heart of her, to make her bend.
Good, he thinks. Good for her.
~