FIC: Dandy (1/1) NC-17 BSG
TITLE: Dandy
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Helo/Sharon
SUMMARY: Liquor is quicker, but candy is dandy.
DISCLAIMER: Battlestar Galactica and all the characters therein belong to people who are not me. I make no profit from this, I just like playing with them.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Written for rebelliousrose in the Helo ShAgathon. She wanted Helo/Sharon, lollipops and clean socks.
They have sex a lot - Sharon says it’s part of her programming, and Helo’s not about to complain, not when she’s hot and wet around him, her body straddling his, perspiration turning her skin to burnished gold.
It’s the reasoning that bothers him, the drive. If she wanted sex just for sex or pleasure or, hell, because their world’s been destroyed and the survival of the species is up to them, that’d be one thing. But instead, there’s the light behind her eyes, that burning ember that says she needs to frak him, to have another hybrid baby, to save her race. That’s what bothers him, what makes him hold back as long as he can, surrendering to his orgasm only when every last ounce of control is gone.
He’s got no one to talk to about it. He knows there’s no way anyone would have sympathy for him, any understanding. To them, he’s sleeping with the enemy and too frakking bad if the bed’s uncomfortable.
Of course, just because he can’t talk, doesn’t mean he can’t listen, and there are enough relationships made, broken and falling apart on Galactica that what he needs to know has to come up at some point. It’s the law of averages, he thinks. Everybody gets lucky sometime.
It’s the Chief and Starbuck that provide the answer. There’s nothing friendly about it. Frak, Starbuck’s not friendly with much of anyone anymore really, but the Chief’s talking to another knuckle-dragger, and Kara informs the whole mess hall that if the Chief’s not doing it for Cally, then he needs to start frakking doing it for Cally. It’s not much as far as epiphanies go, but it gets Helo thinking less like a married man and more like a man who wants something more.
**
Sharon comes off shift looking tired. He knows it’s not an affectation. She gets tired. She gets pissed off. She hurts. She’s more than a machine.
He’s sitting on their rack - two welded together as a wedding present, done on the Admiral’s orders more than as a true gift, but he’s learned to take what he gets. “Hey.”
She smiles at him and it lights up her eyes. Her gaze flickers to the lollipop in his mouth and her smile widens. “Playing Triad?”
“Starbuck’s head’s not in the game. Scored a bottle of ambrosia someone was not pleased to see go, two clean pairs of socks and…” He waggles the lollipop in his mouth, his eyes watching her.
“It’s been a long time since you’ve satisfied your sweet tooth.”
He stands up and reaches for her, pulling her against him. She fits in his arms easily and together, like this, it’s easy to forget everything else, all the rest. “That’s not all I planned on satisfying.”
Sharon laughs and moves away from him, stripping out of her flight suit easily. She moves against him again, tanks and panties and skin and he laughs, lifting her easily and tossing her onto their bed. She laughs again, struggling out of her panties as she watches him, eyes intent, that strange ember glowing in the dark.
He strips his own clothes off - tanks and pants and skivvies until he’s naked and standing over her, looking down at lush skin, like caramel and coffee, the swell of her breasts, the hint of anticipation in her parted lips.
“Helo.” She laughs and reaches for him and he shakes his head, using his tongue to move the lollipop from one side of his mouth to the other. “Helo, come on.”
“Not yet.” He kneels at her feet then grabs her ankles, separating her legs. She bites her lower lip, exhaling roughly as he slides his hands up her calves.
“Helo.” She breathes his name and he smiles, grabbing the stick of his lollipop and pulling it out of his mouth.
“Yeah?” He asks softly, sliding the ball of the lollipop across the arch of her foot and then up her inner calf, leaving a dark trail on the skin.
“H-Helo!” She gasps and laughs, but something in her voice shakes with uncertainty. He grins at her then adjusts his grip on her ankle and lifting her leg, fitting his mouth against her arch, his tongue tracing the candy’s sticky path.
Sharon shivers, her body arching upward. Helo pulls his mouth away and holds her gaze as he slides the lollipop back in his mouth, sucking hard on it. She laughs softly, the sound bordering vaguely on a groan.
“Helo,” she warns him, her voice thick with desire. He pulls the lollipop free and smiles, lifting her leg up with one and leaving a slick sticky line along the underside of her knee. “Helo.” Her voice is rougher, her other leg curving across the back of her calf.
His laugh is a thick murmur against her skin, tongue lapping at the candy residue. She groans, her leg tightening, urging him closer. He shakes his head, his teeth nibbling at the warm skin at the base of her thigh, tasting his way along her naked flesh.
He lowers her leg as he stretches out between them, using the lollipop to paint her skin, sketching masterpieces he signs with the sweep of his tongue. Sharon’s body arches up, and she’s gasping, faint pleas filtering to his ears as he makes his way up to the warm heat at the apex of her thighs. Her fingers scrape against his skull, struggling for purchase in his short hair.
He laughs, the ghost of a breath against her skin and she groans, begging. “Helo. Please. Karl.”
He pulls away and she groans again. Her body is flushed and hot, damp with sweat. Helo slides the lollipop into his mouth again, his smirk curved around the stick as he sucks on it.
“Frak, Karl.” Sharon reaches for him and he shakes his head, rolling the lollipop on his tongue for a moment before wrapping his finger around the stick and tugging it free. He leans and runs the ball against Sharon’s lips, sliding it into her mouth as they part. She curves her tongue around it and he chuckles, shaking his head as he leans down and presses a soft, warm kiss against her stomach.
She arches upward, opening herself up to him. He keeps kissing, easing lower, fingers and thumbs teasing and parting flesh until his tongue slides over her clit, tracing a slow circle around the hard nub and then pulling away, exhaling a warm breath on the overheated skin.
His tongue slides over the hard flesh, the sound of her gasp lost as her thighs close around him. He chuckles softly against her skin, sliding two fingers inside her as he tastes her clit again.
“God. God. Helo.” Her voice filters through like distant echoes as he lets his tongue slide lower, tracing the edge of her opening as he thrusts his fingers deep. He feels the bed shift as she grips it with one hand, all of her strength subverted into that hold, only the faintest hint of her power in the hard tug of her fingers in his hair.
He lets her guide him up, tongue lazy against her clit again. Sharon curses him and damns him, but he raises his eyes to her, seeing the truth, her desire burning even more brightly, shorting out programming. She wants this. Wants him.
And that’s all he wants.
He moves up her body and kisses her awkwardly, stealing the lollipop from her mouth in the process. Her laughter turns quickly as he slides inside her, sheathing himself deep and hard and as hot as the impulse that drives her to him.
They move together, slow and steady, despite the need throbbing at the base of his cock. He refuses to surrender, for different reasons now than before.
Sharon’s beneath him, body rising against him, matching him though he’s already felt the rush of her orgasm. He moves, thrusting harder, deeper and it’s what he wants, what he needs, and the sugar sweet taste of the lollipop melts on his tongue, blending with the taste of her.
She tugs it from his mouth and reaches for him. Her kisses are sweeter than the candy still rough on his tongue, stronger than ambrosia they’ll spend the night getting lost in. And for whatever else he’s lost, whatever else he’s given up, Karl knows he has this. Knows that, in the end, no matter what her programming, not matter that there are a million Sharons, there’s only one Mrs. Agathon.
And he has her.
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Helo/Sharon
SUMMARY: Liquor is quicker, but candy is dandy.
DISCLAIMER: Battlestar Galactica and all the characters therein belong to people who are not me. I make no profit from this, I just like playing with them.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Written for rebelliousrose in the Helo ShAgathon. She wanted Helo/Sharon, lollipops and clean socks.
They have sex a lot - Sharon says it’s part of her programming, and Helo’s not about to complain, not when she’s hot and wet around him, her body straddling his, perspiration turning her skin to burnished gold.
It’s the reasoning that bothers him, the drive. If she wanted sex just for sex or pleasure or, hell, because their world’s been destroyed and the survival of the species is up to them, that’d be one thing. But instead, there’s the light behind her eyes, that burning ember that says she needs to frak him, to have another hybrid baby, to save her race. That’s what bothers him, what makes him hold back as long as he can, surrendering to his orgasm only when every last ounce of control is gone.
He’s got no one to talk to about it. He knows there’s no way anyone would have sympathy for him, any understanding. To them, he’s sleeping with the enemy and too frakking bad if the bed’s uncomfortable.
Of course, just because he can’t talk, doesn’t mean he can’t listen, and there are enough relationships made, broken and falling apart on Galactica that what he needs to know has to come up at some point. It’s the law of averages, he thinks. Everybody gets lucky sometime.
It’s the Chief and Starbuck that provide the answer. There’s nothing friendly about it. Frak, Starbuck’s not friendly with much of anyone anymore really, but the Chief’s talking to another knuckle-dragger, and Kara informs the whole mess hall that if the Chief’s not doing it for Cally, then he needs to start frakking doing it for Cally. It’s not much as far as epiphanies go, but it gets Helo thinking less like a married man and more like a man who wants something more.
**
Sharon comes off shift looking tired. He knows it’s not an affectation. She gets tired. She gets pissed off. She hurts. She’s more than a machine.
He’s sitting on their rack - two welded together as a wedding present, done on the Admiral’s orders more than as a true gift, but he’s learned to take what he gets. “Hey.”
She smiles at him and it lights up her eyes. Her gaze flickers to the lollipop in his mouth and her smile widens. “Playing Triad?”
“Starbuck’s head’s not in the game. Scored a bottle of ambrosia someone was not pleased to see go, two clean pairs of socks and…” He waggles the lollipop in his mouth, his eyes watching her.
“It’s been a long time since you’ve satisfied your sweet tooth.”
He stands up and reaches for her, pulling her against him. She fits in his arms easily and together, like this, it’s easy to forget everything else, all the rest. “That’s not all I planned on satisfying.”
Sharon laughs and moves away from him, stripping out of her flight suit easily. She moves against him again, tanks and panties and skin and he laughs, lifting her easily and tossing her onto their bed. She laughs again, struggling out of her panties as she watches him, eyes intent, that strange ember glowing in the dark.
He strips his own clothes off - tanks and pants and skivvies until he’s naked and standing over her, looking down at lush skin, like caramel and coffee, the swell of her breasts, the hint of anticipation in her parted lips.
“Helo.” She laughs and reaches for him and he shakes his head, using his tongue to move the lollipop from one side of his mouth to the other. “Helo, come on.”
“Not yet.” He kneels at her feet then grabs her ankles, separating her legs. She bites her lower lip, exhaling roughly as he slides his hands up her calves.
“Helo.” She breathes his name and he smiles, grabbing the stick of his lollipop and pulling it out of his mouth.
“Yeah?” He asks softly, sliding the ball of the lollipop across the arch of her foot and then up her inner calf, leaving a dark trail on the skin.
“H-Helo!” She gasps and laughs, but something in her voice shakes with uncertainty. He grins at her then adjusts his grip on her ankle and lifting her leg, fitting his mouth against her arch, his tongue tracing the candy’s sticky path.
Sharon shivers, her body arching upward. Helo pulls his mouth away and holds her gaze as he slides the lollipop back in his mouth, sucking hard on it. She laughs softly, the sound bordering vaguely on a groan.
“Helo,” she warns him, her voice thick with desire. He pulls the lollipop free and smiles, lifting her leg up with one and leaving a slick sticky line along the underside of her knee. “Helo.” Her voice is rougher, her other leg curving across the back of her calf.
His laugh is a thick murmur against her skin, tongue lapping at the candy residue. She groans, her leg tightening, urging him closer. He shakes his head, his teeth nibbling at the warm skin at the base of her thigh, tasting his way along her naked flesh.
He lowers her leg as he stretches out between them, using the lollipop to paint her skin, sketching masterpieces he signs with the sweep of his tongue. Sharon’s body arches up, and she’s gasping, faint pleas filtering to his ears as he makes his way up to the warm heat at the apex of her thighs. Her fingers scrape against his skull, struggling for purchase in his short hair.
He laughs, the ghost of a breath against her skin and she groans, begging. “Helo. Please. Karl.”
He pulls away and she groans again. Her body is flushed and hot, damp with sweat. Helo slides the lollipop into his mouth again, his smirk curved around the stick as he sucks on it.
“Frak, Karl.” Sharon reaches for him and he shakes his head, rolling the lollipop on his tongue for a moment before wrapping his finger around the stick and tugging it free. He leans and runs the ball against Sharon’s lips, sliding it into her mouth as they part. She curves her tongue around it and he chuckles, shaking his head as he leans down and presses a soft, warm kiss against her stomach.
She arches upward, opening herself up to him. He keeps kissing, easing lower, fingers and thumbs teasing and parting flesh until his tongue slides over her clit, tracing a slow circle around the hard nub and then pulling away, exhaling a warm breath on the overheated skin.
His tongue slides over the hard flesh, the sound of her gasp lost as her thighs close around him. He chuckles softly against her skin, sliding two fingers inside her as he tastes her clit again.
“God. God. Helo.” Her voice filters through like distant echoes as he lets his tongue slide lower, tracing the edge of her opening as he thrusts his fingers deep. He feels the bed shift as she grips it with one hand, all of her strength subverted into that hold, only the faintest hint of her power in the hard tug of her fingers in his hair.
He lets her guide him up, tongue lazy against her clit again. Sharon curses him and damns him, but he raises his eyes to her, seeing the truth, her desire burning even more brightly, shorting out programming. She wants this. Wants him.
And that’s all he wants.
He moves up her body and kisses her awkwardly, stealing the lollipop from her mouth in the process. Her laughter turns quickly as he slides inside her, sheathing himself deep and hard and as hot as the impulse that drives her to him.
They move together, slow and steady, despite the need throbbing at the base of his cock. He refuses to surrender, for different reasons now than before.
Sharon’s beneath him, body rising against him, matching him though he’s already felt the rush of her orgasm. He moves, thrusting harder, deeper and it’s what he wants, what he needs, and the sugar sweet taste of the lollipop melts on his tongue, blending with the taste of her.
She tugs it from his mouth and reaches for him. Her kisses are sweeter than the candy still rough on his tongue, stronger than ambrosia they’ll spend the night getting lost in. And for whatever else he’s lost, whatever else he’s given up, Karl knows he has this. Knows that, in the end, no matter what her programming, not matter that there are a million Sharons, there’s only one Mrs. Agathon.
And he has her.