fic: BSG, Boots on the Floor, Kara/Anders, PG/Rish
disclaimer: not mine
pairing: Kara/Anders
setting: AU
nominally for: the Porn Battle, prompt 'different'
length: 1300+
rating: PG13, not so porny.
Boots on the Floor
by ALC Punk!
There were boots on the floor and a bounty hunter in her bed--a rival bounty hunter, too.
Sam Anders shifted his lanky form and brushed a kiss over Kara Thrace's shoulder, as though testing something. Maybe the air, maybe her temper. "You awake?"
"No, there's a dog about to kick you," Kara mumbled. Not that she had the energy to follow-through on her threat. His lips on her skin were sending tingles down her spine, though, electric shocks that reminded her of what they'd just done.
He laughed, breath huffing out against her damp skin. "I'd like to see you try."
Worming around, Kara pressed her gun up under his chin, smirking at him. "Maybe kicking would take the fun out of it all."
Not seeming in the least concerned, he stroked his hands down her sides and back, cupping her ass in a way that made her want to shoot him just on principal. "I thought we'd got past this, baby."
Time was, Kara would have shot a man by now. She had enough know-how to even bury him where no one'd find the body. At least until she was long gone. But she couldn't deny that Sam Anders did a better job than most men at making her skin itch and twist. So she kept the gun under his chin and moved to straddle him a little. "Don't count your chickens. Didn't your mama ever teach you that?"
He smirked, "Don't feel you pullin' the trigger."
That was almost enough to goad her into doing it, but she restrained herself. The shot would bring too many people, interested at the two strangers who'd wandered into the town earlier in the day. Separately, of course. Kara never worked with anyone--it'd just been her luck that Sam Anders found the same piece of information that she did. Challenging him to a game of cards had probably been foolhardy, but it had kept him distracted.
Letting her guard down enough to kiss him back in the hall on their way to bed had been brainless. Though she had enjoyed the encounter far more than she'd planned to, she had to move on.
"Maybe I'm just doin' it real slow," she murmured, drawing the words out and stroking her hand down his chest. Shifting, sliding against him, she kissed his chest, careful of what her hand was doing with her gun. Accidentally shooting him would ruin her fun.
He chuckled, hands coming up to stroke her face and hair, tangling his fingers through her unruly, hacked-off shock of hair before moving back to her shoulders. To give him credit, he didn't try to take the gun from her.
Enjoying his attentions more than she would admit, Kara let up pressure on his windpipe and tipped her head up to look at him again.
This wasn't the first time they'd done this. There'd been that time in Delphi when they were caught in a whorehouse, high on morpha administered via drink (a story she liked to embellish with explosions and her hands talking the movements as much as her mouth did). There hadn't been kissing, then, just frenzied, drugged pushes and pulls until she was tight around him and his hands were leaving bruises on her hips and back.
Local constabulary had thrown them both in jail, assuming they were part of the operation until their clothes and identification were found.
Kara had taken him on the bench, legs draped to either side of him, back arching as she moved. It hadn't been as desperate as the other, but she'd still buried her face in the side of his neck when she climaxed, shuddering and trying to take it all back.
"Thrace," he mumbled when she licked one of his nipples, "The gun?"
A soft laugh escaped her and she kissed the nipple then reached between them, knowing he was already hard and aching for her. A deft twist and she slid down onto him, rocking her hips into his. "Any moment, I could pull the trigger."
"I'd die happy." His hands pulled at her hips, urging her on faster.
Catching his fingers in hers, she urged his hand above his head, riding him slow and sure, feeling every twinge in his muscles echo in her own. When she kissed him, she pulled the gun away--shooting herself would be just as stupid, after all. With both hands above his head and mouth and body distracting him, Sam was too late to stop her from snapping the handcuff around his wrist.
Trying not to pause to enjoy herself, Kara suddenly pulled free of him, rolling away and scrambling off the bed. Gods, she ached to climb right back on, and let herself enjoy him again. But she had a bounty to catch.
"Thrace?" Confusion and dawning suspicion filled his eyes as he tugged at his wrist, the other cuff clanking against the wooden bar of the headboard. "This isn't funny."
A giggle was trapped in her throat for a moment before she grinned at him, "Conoy is my bounty." Her clothing was where she'd left it, piled with his and she started pulling her underwear on.
"Frak--" He pulled again at the cuff, glaring at her, "Thrace."
"Maybe another time, Anders." Pants next, then her bra and shirt. Setting her gun on the chair beside her, she buttoned and buckled, swinging her belt back on while he continued to struggle, cursing under his breath. Kara was finding herself intrigued at the possibility that he might do the same to her next time. She'd have to watch herself around him. Make sure he didn't have cuffs or rope.
"You can't get him on your own, and you know it."
"Bullshit." Fully confident in her own abilities to nail this law-breaker, Kara waved aside his comments. "I think you're just jealous that I'll get his bounty and you won't."
Anders laughed, slumping back against the pillows as he looked at her. "We've been tracking him for a year and half now, Thrace. You know as well as I do this ain't going down easy. You need my help."
"Like I need a hole in my head." She contradicted, stomping into her boots and trying to ignore the tiny voice that said he was right. Conoy had slithered out of more traps than she cared to consider, and from everything she knew of him, out traps Anders had set that should have been fool-proof. "Look." She holstered her gun and looked at him. "I'll get Conoy and then I'll come back for you."
"Not if he gets you first."
"He won't." Kara checked that she had all her gear, then pulled the key from her pocket. "I'll leave this with Cally. If I'm not back in six hours, she'll come let you go." Kara debated kissing him goodbye, but figured she wouldn't get free of him if he got a hand on her.
"At least I'll be able to come save your pretty little ass," he muttered.
Kara glared at him, "I could take the key with me."
"Fine. Try not to get shot."
"Try not to fall off your horse," Kara returned, slamming the door. Damn. That had been a stupid retort. Taking the stairs two at a time, she also tried to ignore the still burning arousal that wanted her to go back and ride him until they were both spent.
Luckily, Cally wasn't busy. Also luckily, her horse was well-rested.
Time to bring in a bounty, she thought triumphantly as she kicked Viper into gear and started following the road out of town.
-f-
pairing: Kara/Anders
setting: AU
nominally for: the Porn Battle, prompt 'different'
length: 1300+
rating: PG13, not so porny.
Boots on the Floor
by ALC Punk!
There were boots on the floor and a bounty hunter in her bed--a rival bounty hunter, too.
Sam Anders shifted his lanky form and brushed a kiss over Kara Thrace's shoulder, as though testing something. Maybe the air, maybe her temper. "You awake?"
"No, there's a dog about to kick you," Kara mumbled. Not that she had the energy to follow-through on her threat. His lips on her skin were sending tingles down her spine, though, electric shocks that reminded her of what they'd just done.
He laughed, breath huffing out against her damp skin. "I'd like to see you try."
Worming around, Kara pressed her gun up under his chin, smirking at him. "Maybe kicking would take the fun out of it all."
Not seeming in the least concerned, he stroked his hands down her sides and back, cupping her ass in a way that made her want to shoot him just on principal. "I thought we'd got past this, baby."
Time was, Kara would have shot a man by now. She had enough know-how to even bury him where no one'd find the body. At least until she was long gone. But she couldn't deny that Sam Anders did a better job than most men at making her skin itch and twist. So she kept the gun under his chin and moved to straddle him a little. "Don't count your chickens. Didn't your mama ever teach you that?"
He smirked, "Don't feel you pullin' the trigger."
That was almost enough to goad her into doing it, but she restrained herself. The shot would bring too many people, interested at the two strangers who'd wandered into the town earlier in the day. Separately, of course. Kara never worked with anyone--it'd just been her luck that Sam Anders found the same piece of information that she did. Challenging him to a game of cards had probably been foolhardy, but it had kept him distracted.
Letting her guard down enough to kiss him back in the hall on their way to bed had been brainless. Though she had enjoyed the encounter far more than she'd planned to, she had to move on.
"Maybe I'm just doin' it real slow," she murmured, drawing the words out and stroking her hand down his chest. Shifting, sliding against him, she kissed his chest, careful of what her hand was doing with her gun. Accidentally shooting him would ruin her fun.
He chuckled, hands coming up to stroke her face and hair, tangling his fingers through her unruly, hacked-off shock of hair before moving back to her shoulders. To give him credit, he didn't try to take the gun from her.
Enjoying his attentions more than she would admit, Kara let up pressure on his windpipe and tipped her head up to look at him again.
This wasn't the first time they'd done this. There'd been that time in Delphi when they were caught in a whorehouse, high on morpha administered via drink (a story she liked to embellish with explosions and her hands talking the movements as much as her mouth did). There hadn't been kissing, then, just frenzied, drugged pushes and pulls until she was tight around him and his hands were leaving bruises on her hips and back.
Local constabulary had thrown them both in jail, assuming they were part of the operation until their clothes and identification were found.
Kara had taken him on the bench, legs draped to either side of him, back arching as she moved. It hadn't been as desperate as the other, but she'd still buried her face in the side of his neck when she climaxed, shuddering and trying to take it all back.
"Thrace," he mumbled when she licked one of his nipples, "The gun?"
A soft laugh escaped her and she kissed the nipple then reached between them, knowing he was already hard and aching for her. A deft twist and she slid down onto him, rocking her hips into his. "Any moment, I could pull the trigger."
"I'd die happy." His hands pulled at her hips, urging her on faster.
Catching his fingers in hers, she urged his hand above his head, riding him slow and sure, feeling every twinge in his muscles echo in her own. When she kissed him, she pulled the gun away--shooting herself would be just as stupid, after all. With both hands above his head and mouth and body distracting him, Sam was too late to stop her from snapping the handcuff around his wrist.
Trying not to pause to enjoy herself, Kara suddenly pulled free of him, rolling away and scrambling off the bed. Gods, she ached to climb right back on, and let herself enjoy him again. But she had a bounty to catch.
"Thrace?" Confusion and dawning suspicion filled his eyes as he tugged at his wrist, the other cuff clanking against the wooden bar of the headboard. "This isn't funny."
A giggle was trapped in her throat for a moment before she grinned at him, "Conoy is my bounty." Her clothing was where she'd left it, piled with his and she started pulling her underwear on.
"Frak--" He pulled again at the cuff, glaring at her, "Thrace."
"Maybe another time, Anders." Pants next, then her bra and shirt. Setting her gun on the chair beside her, she buttoned and buckled, swinging her belt back on while he continued to struggle, cursing under his breath. Kara was finding herself intrigued at the possibility that he might do the same to her next time. She'd have to watch herself around him. Make sure he didn't have cuffs or rope.
"You can't get him on your own, and you know it."
"Bullshit." Fully confident in her own abilities to nail this law-breaker, Kara waved aside his comments. "I think you're just jealous that I'll get his bounty and you won't."
Anders laughed, slumping back against the pillows as he looked at her. "We've been tracking him for a year and half now, Thrace. You know as well as I do this ain't going down easy. You need my help."
"Like I need a hole in my head." She contradicted, stomping into her boots and trying to ignore the tiny voice that said he was right. Conoy had slithered out of more traps than she cared to consider, and from everything she knew of him, out traps Anders had set that should have been fool-proof. "Look." She holstered her gun and looked at him. "I'll get Conoy and then I'll come back for you."
"Not if he gets you first."
"He won't." Kara checked that she had all her gear, then pulled the key from her pocket. "I'll leave this with Cally. If I'm not back in six hours, she'll come let you go." Kara debated kissing him goodbye, but figured she wouldn't get free of him if he got a hand on her.
"At least I'll be able to come save your pretty little ass," he muttered.
Kara glared at him, "I could take the key with me."
"Fine. Try not to get shot."
"Try not to fall off your horse," Kara returned, slamming the door. Damn. That had been a stupid retort. Taking the stairs two at a time, she also tried to ignore the still burning arousal that wanted her to go back and ride him until they were both spent.
Luckily, Cally wasn't busy. Also luckily, her horse was well-rested.
Time to bring in a bounty, she thought triumphantly as she kicked Viper into gear and started following the road out of town.
-f-