Crossover Fic: Aim to Get Laid (Firefly/Star Trek)
Title: Aim to Get Laid
Author/Artist: igrockspock
Character(s): Gaila
Rating: Teen
Summary: Gaila's on Serenity, and she aims to misbehave.
Gaila frowns over her tricorder, bending lower as if she needs to get closer to get a good reading. Actually, she's trying to shift her mini-skirt an inch higher than regulation. She's not actually even using the tricorder; this place is just what it looks like, a pirate's cargo bay whose seeming disorganization is actually a clever design to fool customs inspectors and conceal secret compartments. She gives a small, contented sigh. It reminds her of home. Speaking of home, as the engineer on the Away Team, she should probably be participating in the conversation about how to get back there. But Kirk and Spock and the other Captain (or Cap'n, as his crew calls him) seem to have things under control. She has more pressing business to attend: getting laid.
It's been almost 2 weeks, an eternity to her. Every night she looks in the mirror, she sees her normal emerald green fading just a little. A few more days and she'll be as old and drab as the over-boiled asparagus they serve in the mess hall. It's not that she can't get laid, just that she doesn't really want to. She's been with every man and woman on the Enterprise 3 or 4 times by now, and it's getting old fast. Humans are just not that creative, and dammit, why does she have to be the one to come up with all the fun new ideas?
She stands slowly and leans carefully against a tower of wooden boxes, pretending to frown at the display screen. From this angle, she can surreptitiously examine the whole crew and put all her curves on display at the same time. Methodically, her eyes survey the small circle assembled in the cargo bay. The older man beside her is trying -- and failing -- to keep his eyes off the exposed strip of skin between her uniform boots and mini-skirt. For the thousandth time in her career, she silently thanks Starfleet for incorporating fuck me boots into their official uniform...even though they sometimes draw in the wrong guys. Like this one. He had introduced himself as Shepard, an idiomatic Standard term she didn't understand, but the faint air of smug holiness that hung about him was unmistakable. She could have him in a second, but corrupting the innocent is no good for getting off. They never really know what they're doing, and they always shoot their load two minutes in.
Her eyes shift to the center of the cargo bay, where the Captain is busily conversing with the Cap'n. She can imagine exactly how it would unfold between them: arousal and self-restraint would thicken the air between them until he finally gave in, pulling her down on top of him and thrusting inside her slow and deep. He'd stare up at her like she's a goddess (which she totally is) and make sure she comes twice (which she totally deserves), but. It would be exactly like doing Dr. McCoy, right down to the faint twang in his voice and the stubble on his cheeks. She did that two weeks ago. And also 6 months ago, and 8 months ago, and probably a couple times before that too. God. Humans. How could they be so sexually identical when they preached so much diversity?
Heavy steps thud toward her, disrupting her frustrated musing. Thick, meaty fingers slide along the edge of her shoulder, and she looks up into eyes alight with desire. He's tall and strong, definitely uninhibited, and she knows she should be all over him, but something about his leer is...icky. In the distance, she hears McCoy muttering about disease and danger wrapped in darkness, and wonders if it's a warning to her. If so, she doesn't need it. Especially about the disease.
"Jayne!" the Cap'n calls across the cargo bay. "Just 'cause she's green don't mean she wants your space clap any more'n the rest of us. Leave her be and get your ass back here!"
Looking more petulant than any adult man should, Jayne strides away, leaving both ship's doctors directly in her line of vision. McCoy and the other doctor (Simon?) circle each other warily, waving little instruments over each other's heads. She studies his manicured hands and fashionable silk vest, then decides she'd bet all the credits in her account that he's gay.
Just as she decides this reality is a bust, her eyes settle on a lanky blond man speaking with the Cap'n. She'd bet anything that he collects comic books and plays with action figures, but underneath the dorkiness, he has the air of a man who knows how to handle a woman. Even a strong, confident woman like her. She gives him a saucy smile, and he responds with a goofy little wave. A sense of humor! This is getting better and better. She's about to join the conversation now, just so she can suggest an assignment that will leave her alone on the bridge with him, when she feels eyes boring into her like a laser beam. Touch my man and I will end you, the stare says. Gaila collapses against the wall of boxes, sulking. God. Humans, she thinks for the second time that day. She wishes they understood that she doesn't want to keep their husbands, just borrow them for a day or two. They'd even be full of new tricks when she returned them. Any rational woman would consider it a favor. But then again, if she were marooned with the pathetic selection on this boat, maybe she'd get all crazy and monogamous too.
She saunters wearily toward the gathering in the center of the cargo bay. Jim gives her a look that says he knows exactly what she's been planning, and that it's hilarious how badly it worked out. Resigned, she joins the conversation about how to return to their dimension. The sooner they get out of here, the better.
Two hours later, Gaila is squatting beneath Serenity's engine, not even caring whether the pose flatters her thighs. She's given up on getting laid, but more importantly, she's fascinated by this engine. She fingers a compression coil lovingly, remembering her years hitch hiking around the edges of the Federation on deep space freighters, taking engineering courses by subspace transmission so she could get into the academy. She'd paid her passage by maintaining the ships' jury-rigged engines, and it was her first proof that she'd been right: her mind was worth just as much as her body. Now that she's seen this engine, she's not in such a hurry to leave this universe, but Spock still is. With a little sigh, she turns her attention back to recreating the ionic pulse that sucked them here in the first place. In her opinion, the whole thing sounds really scientifically improbable, but tinkering with this engine is way more fun than arguing with Spock, so she's not complaining.
"Your hair's sure purdy," Kaylee says close to her ear. She tugs gently on one of the curls lying limp against Gaila's sweaty neck. Gaila stays focused on the engine for a few seconds, considering. Kaylee's knees are touching hers, but it's a small space, and she can't tell if the contact is flirtatious or not. Men are easy to read, but ever since the bitter discovery that most human women are not bisexual, she's been a bit perplexed by them. Besides, Kaylee seems like a girl who's made of sweetness and sunshine, not sex. She probably braids her girlfriends' hair while exclaiming that they're just like sisters!
Kaylee's fingers are still gently exploring her curls though, so Gaila turns to face her. The look of shy, hopeful expectation in her eyes is unmistakable. Gaila mentally reprimands herself for assuming that sweet girls don't want to get it on, then offers her a saucy grin and a raised eyebrow before returning to the engine. It might be months before she gets another chance to sleep with someone she hasn't done 3 times already. Better to drag this one out.
"Help me get this bolt off," Gaila says, picking up a long, heavy wrench. Kaylee holds the end of the handle, and their wrists brush together. The bolt yields quickly to their combined strength, but Kaylee doesn't let go of the wrench. Instead, she slides her hand over the top of Gaila's.
"I ain't never been with a woman before, but I always wanted to," she whispers.
"I like directness. And I like women," Gaila responds, guiding one of Kaylee's fingers to her mouth and sucking on it.
Kaylee's eyes flick back and forth over Gaila's curves. She looks entranced. Her callused fingers slide along the smooth skin of Gaila's thigh, just beneath the hem of her skirt.
"I like the way you touch her," she whispers, leaning in closer. "Serenity, I mean." Her first kiss is soft, warm, and exploratory, but the second one is hard enough to push Gaila back against the wall. Gaila tangles her fingers in Kaylee's hair, kissing back even harder. As Kaylee's fingers inch slowly up her thigh, she opens her legs a little wider and thinks this universe isn't so bad after all.
Um, some of you might have gotten a preview of this when I posted a draft and forgot to make it private. It's finished now! *facepalm*
Author/Artist: igrockspock
Character(s): Gaila
Rating: Teen
Summary: Gaila's on Serenity, and she aims to misbehave.
Gaila frowns over her tricorder, bending lower as if she needs to get closer to get a good reading. Actually, she's trying to shift her mini-skirt an inch higher than regulation. She's not actually even using the tricorder; this place is just what it looks like, a pirate's cargo bay whose seeming disorganization is actually a clever design to fool customs inspectors and conceal secret compartments. She gives a small, contented sigh. It reminds her of home. Speaking of home, as the engineer on the Away Team, she should probably be participating in the conversation about how to get back there. But Kirk and Spock and the other Captain (or Cap'n, as his crew calls him) seem to have things under control. She has more pressing business to attend: getting laid.
It's been almost 2 weeks, an eternity to her. Every night she looks in the mirror, she sees her normal emerald green fading just a little. A few more days and she'll be as old and drab as the over-boiled asparagus they serve in the mess hall. It's not that she can't get laid, just that she doesn't really want to. She's been with every man and woman on the Enterprise 3 or 4 times by now, and it's getting old fast. Humans are just not that creative, and dammit, why does she have to be the one to come up with all the fun new ideas?
She stands slowly and leans carefully against a tower of wooden boxes, pretending to frown at the display screen. From this angle, she can surreptitiously examine the whole crew and put all her curves on display at the same time. Methodically, her eyes survey the small circle assembled in the cargo bay. The older man beside her is trying -- and failing -- to keep his eyes off the exposed strip of skin between her uniform boots and mini-skirt. For the thousandth time in her career, she silently thanks Starfleet for incorporating fuck me boots into their official uniform...even though they sometimes draw in the wrong guys. Like this one. He had introduced himself as Shepard, an idiomatic Standard term she didn't understand, but the faint air of smug holiness that hung about him was unmistakable. She could have him in a second, but corrupting the innocent is no good for getting off. They never really know what they're doing, and they always shoot their load two minutes in.
Her eyes shift to the center of the cargo bay, where the Captain is busily conversing with the Cap'n. She can imagine exactly how it would unfold between them: arousal and self-restraint would thicken the air between them until he finally gave in, pulling her down on top of him and thrusting inside her slow and deep. He'd stare up at her like she's a goddess (which she totally is) and make sure she comes twice (which she totally deserves), but. It would be exactly like doing Dr. McCoy, right down to the faint twang in his voice and the stubble on his cheeks. She did that two weeks ago. And also 6 months ago, and 8 months ago, and probably a couple times before that too. God. Humans. How could they be so sexually identical when they preached so much diversity?
Heavy steps thud toward her, disrupting her frustrated musing. Thick, meaty fingers slide along the edge of her shoulder, and she looks up into eyes alight with desire. He's tall and strong, definitely uninhibited, and she knows she should be all over him, but something about his leer is...icky. In the distance, she hears McCoy muttering about disease and danger wrapped in darkness, and wonders if it's a warning to her. If so, she doesn't need it. Especially about the disease.
"Jayne!" the Cap'n calls across the cargo bay. "Just 'cause she's green don't mean she wants your space clap any more'n the rest of us. Leave her be and get your ass back here!"
Looking more petulant than any adult man should, Jayne strides away, leaving both ship's doctors directly in her line of vision. McCoy and the other doctor (Simon?) circle each other warily, waving little instruments over each other's heads. She studies his manicured hands and fashionable silk vest, then decides she'd bet all the credits in her account that he's gay.
Just as she decides this reality is a bust, her eyes settle on a lanky blond man speaking with the Cap'n. She'd bet anything that he collects comic books and plays with action figures, but underneath the dorkiness, he has the air of a man who knows how to handle a woman. Even a strong, confident woman like her. She gives him a saucy smile, and he responds with a goofy little wave. A sense of humor! This is getting better and better. She's about to join the conversation now, just so she can suggest an assignment that will leave her alone on the bridge with him, when she feels eyes boring into her like a laser beam. Touch my man and I will end you, the stare says. Gaila collapses against the wall of boxes, sulking. God. Humans, she thinks for the second time that day. She wishes they understood that she doesn't want to keep their husbands, just borrow them for a day or two. They'd even be full of new tricks when she returned them. Any rational woman would consider it a favor. But then again, if she were marooned with the pathetic selection on this boat, maybe she'd get all crazy and monogamous too.
She saunters wearily toward the gathering in the center of the cargo bay. Jim gives her a look that says he knows exactly what she's been planning, and that it's hilarious how badly it worked out. Resigned, she joins the conversation about how to return to their dimension. The sooner they get out of here, the better.
Two hours later, Gaila is squatting beneath Serenity's engine, not even caring whether the pose flatters her thighs. She's given up on getting laid, but more importantly, she's fascinated by this engine. She fingers a compression coil lovingly, remembering her years hitch hiking around the edges of the Federation on deep space freighters, taking engineering courses by subspace transmission so she could get into the academy. She'd paid her passage by maintaining the ships' jury-rigged engines, and it was her first proof that she'd been right: her mind was worth just as much as her body. Now that she's seen this engine, she's not in such a hurry to leave this universe, but Spock still is. With a little sigh, she turns her attention back to recreating the ionic pulse that sucked them here in the first place. In her opinion, the whole thing sounds really scientifically improbable, but tinkering with this engine is way more fun than arguing with Spock, so she's not complaining.
"Your hair's sure purdy," Kaylee says close to her ear. She tugs gently on one of the curls lying limp against Gaila's sweaty neck. Gaila stays focused on the engine for a few seconds, considering. Kaylee's knees are touching hers, but it's a small space, and she can't tell if the contact is flirtatious or not. Men are easy to read, but ever since the bitter discovery that most human women are not bisexual, she's been a bit perplexed by them. Besides, Kaylee seems like a girl who's made of sweetness and sunshine, not sex. She probably braids her girlfriends' hair while exclaiming that they're just like sisters!
Kaylee's fingers are still gently exploring her curls though, so Gaila turns to face her. The look of shy, hopeful expectation in her eyes is unmistakable. Gaila mentally reprimands herself for assuming that sweet girls don't want to get it on, then offers her a saucy grin and a raised eyebrow before returning to the engine. It might be months before she gets another chance to sleep with someone she hasn't done 3 times already. Better to drag this one out.
"Help me get this bolt off," Gaila says, picking up a long, heavy wrench. Kaylee holds the end of the handle, and their wrists brush together. The bolt yields quickly to their combined strength, but Kaylee doesn't let go of the wrench. Instead, she slides her hand over the top of Gaila's.
"I ain't never been with a woman before, but I always wanted to," she whispers.
"I like directness. And I like women," Gaila responds, guiding one of Kaylee's fingers to her mouth and sucking on it.
Kaylee's eyes flick back and forth over Gaila's curves. She looks entranced. Her callused fingers slide along the smooth skin of Gaila's thigh, just beneath the hem of her skirt.
"I like the way you touch her," she whispers, leaning in closer. "Serenity, I mean." Her first kiss is soft, warm, and exploratory, but the second one is hard enough to push Gaila back against the wall. Gaila tangles her fingers in Kaylee's hair, kissing back even harder. As Kaylee's fingers inch slowly up her thigh, she opens her legs a little wider and thinks this universe isn't so bad after all.
Um, some of you might have gotten a preview of this when I posted a draft and forgot to make it private. It's finished now! *facepalm*