BSG fic: Shut Up and Kiss Me (pg-13)
Title: Shut Up and Kiss Me
Author: sabaceanbabe
Rating: pg-13 for language
Word count: 800+
Focus: Kara/Sam
Spoilers: none, really, set during the missing year
Disclaimer: Not mine, yadda yadda yadda.
Author's note: Unbetaed, so all mistakes and b.s. totally my fault. And maybe lyssie's, 'cause she kept poking me until I wrote her some Kara/Sam.
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“Sam? Is that you?”
Kara’s voice cut through the darkness and made him miss his shot. The ball slammed against the frame and flew at a sharp angle toward the edge of the court, beyond the circle of light, which was just large enough to play a night game, if you weren’t too picky about following the official Pyramid regulations.
“Dammit.”
A thud-smack as her strong hands caught the ball and then it flew back at him with the speed of the Vipers she no longer flew. He caught it, barely, the movement reawakening the sting of his new tatoo even as his hand stung with the impact of ball on flesh.
“What the frak are you doing, Sam? Do you know what time it is?” Her voice was irritated, still husky with sleep.
“Can’t sleep.” He fired the ball at the goal as Kara stepped into the light. Again, it hit the frame, bouncing off and zooming toward his wife, who caught it with one hand, immediately firing it back to the goal. She rubbed her palms over her arms, bare and chilled by the summer night.
“Can’t shoot, either,” she smirked as her shot dropped home, rattling the cage on its way down.
Sam watched her swagger to the ball, bend to retrieve it, the green fabric of her trousers pulling taut over her ass. Gods damn but his wife was sexy, all soft skin and sharp edges. Sam grinned and leered.
“You ever think maybe I didn’t want to make that one?”
She shot him a look over her shoulder, or maybe under her arm, as she was still bent over, taunting him.
“Yeah, right. You meant that,” she said as she straightened and turned to face him, firing the ball at him without warning.
This time, he was ready for it, caught it and dodged toward Kara, who reached for the ball even as he danced out of range. He would’ve made for the goal then, but she was too close.
“Why can’t you sleep?” she asked, hands outstretched, legs wide, bouncing a bit from left to right and back.
He feinted toward her, spun when she reacted, and took another shot. Sam’s eyes never left Kara, but he smiled in satisfaction as he heard the ball drop to the bottom of the cage without so much as kissing the sides, just the sharp report as it hit bottom before rolling back out to the dirt.
“I think it was your cooking,” he quipped as she bent again for the ball, wriggling a bit for his benefit.
“Frak you, Anders.” She aimed the ball at his head, hurling it at him with a two-handed throw.
He caught it -- “Anywhere, anytime, Thrace,” -- shot it back at her with every bit as much force.
“My cooking,” she feinted toward him, “is a helluva lot better,” spun as he grabbed, “than anything we ever got on Galactica…” started to shoot for the goal, but he knocked the ball from her grasp.
“That so?” He dove for the ball as it rolled across the dirt, making its escape toward the darkness.
Kara dove, too, knocking him off course. “Yeah, pretty boy,” she mocked, curling around the ball and rolling back into the light. Sam just lay on his back and drank her in -- they’d been married for over a month and he still couldn’t believe it, sometimes.
Carrying the ball in both hands, she loped toward him, blonde hair a tangle around her shoulders. He loved the way the fabric of her shirt pulled across her breasts. She came toward him and Sam realized two things -- that she wasn’t wearing a bra and that she had a dangerous glint in her eyes. He started to roll, but he was too late. As she passed, she launched the ball straight into his solar plexus. The only thing that saved him from severe pain was that aborted roll.
“You bitch!” he shouted and she laughed. Sam scrambled to his feet and charged after her. “You’re going to pay for that, Mrs. Anders!”
“Only if you catch me!” she shot back.
Sam didn’t dignify that with a reply as he poured on speed. Kara had no idea how close he was when he tackled her. Or maybe she did. She was Kara Thrace, after all. They rolled in a tangle of limbs and came to rest, Sam on top, nose to nose with his grinning wife.
The chill in the early summer night was no longer relevant. Sam reached up to smooth her hair back from her face and whispered, “You were saying?”
Kara focused on his mouth as he spoke and then brought her eyes back up to his. There was just enough ambient light from the stars and the aurora lights that streaked across the sky at random intervals that Sam could see the green of her irises. “Shut up and kiss me, Sam,” she ordered.
There was nothing for him to do but comply.
Author: sabaceanbabe
Rating: pg-13 for language
Word count: 800+
Focus: Kara/Sam
Spoilers: none, really, set during the missing year
Disclaimer: Not mine, yadda yadda yadda.
Author's note: Unbetaed, so all mistakes and b.s. totally my fault. And maybe lyssie's, 'cause she kept poking me until I wrote her some Kara/Sam.
--------------------------
“Sam? Is that you?”
Kara’s voice cut through the darkness and made him miss his shot. The ball slammed against the frame and flew at a sharp angle toward the edge of the court, beyond the circle of light, which was just large enough to play a night game, if you weren’t too picky about following the official Pyramid regulations.
“Dammit.”
A thud-smack as her strong hands caught the ball and then it flew back at him with the speed of the Vipers she no longer flew. He caught it, barely, the movement reawakening the sting of his new tatoo even as his hand stung with the impact of ball on flesh.
“What the frak are you doing, Sam? Do you know what time it is?” Her voice was irritated, still husky with sleep.
“Can’t sleep.” He fired the ball at the goal as Kara stepped into the light. Again, it hit the frame, bouncing off and zooming toward his wife, who caught it with one hand, immediately firing it back to the goal. She rubbed her palms over her arms, bare and chilled by the summer night.
“Can’t shoot, either,” she smirked as her shot dropped home, rattling the cage on its way down.
Sam watched her swagger to the ball, bend to retrieve it, the green fabric of her trousers pulling taut over her ass. Gods damn but his wife was sexy, all soft skin and sharp edges. Sam grinned and leered.
“You ever think maybe I didn’t want to make that one?”
She shot him a look over her shoulder, or maybe under her arm, as she was still bent over, taunting him.
“Yeah, right. You meant that,” she said as she straightened and turned to face him, firing the ball at him without warning.
This time, he was ready for it, caught it and dodged toward Kara, who reached for the ball even as he danced out of range. He would’ve made for the goal then, but she was too close.
“Why can’t you sleep?” she asked, hands outstretched, legs wide, bouncing a bit from left to right and back.
He feinted toward her, spun when she reacted, and took another shot. Sam’s eyes never left Kara, but he smiled in satisfaction as he heard the ball drop to the bottom of the cage without so much as kissing the sides, just the sharp report as it hit bottom before rolling back out to the dirt.
“I think it was your cooking,” he quipped as she bent again for the ball, wriggling a bit for his benefit.
“Frak you, Anders.” She aimed the ball at his head, hurling it at him with a two-handed throw.
He caught it -- “Anywhere, anytime, Thrace,” -- shot it back at her with every bit as much force.
“My cooking,” she feinted toward him, “is a helluva lot better,” spun as he grabbed, “than anything we ever got on Galactica…” started to shoot for the goal, but he knocked the ball from her grasp.
“That so?” He dove for the ball as it rolled across the dirt, making its escape toward the darkness.
Kara dove, too, knocking him off course. “Yeah, pretty boy,” she mocked, curling around the ball and rolling back into the light. Sam just lay on his back and drank her in -- they’d been married for over a month and he still couldn’t believe it, sometimes.
Carrying the ball in both hands, she loped toward him, blonde hair a tangle around her shoulders. He loved the way the fabric of her shirt pulled across her breasts. She came toward him and Sam realized two things -- that she wasn’t wearing a bra and that she had a dangerous glint in her eyes. He started to roll, but he was too late. As she passed, she launched the ball straight into his solar plexus. The only thing that saved him from severe pain was that aborted roll.
“You bitch!” he shouted and she laughed. Sam scrambled to his feet and charged after her. “You’re going to pay for that, Mrs. Anders!”
“Only if you catch me!” she shot back.
Sam didn’t dignify that with a reply as he poured on speed. Kara had no idea how close he was when he tackled her. Or maybe she did. She was Kara Thrace, after all. They rolled in a tangle of limbs and came to rest, Sam on top, nose to nose with his grinning wife.
The chill in the early summer night was no longer relevant. Sam reached up to smooth her hair back from her face and whispered, “You were saying?”
Kara focused on his mouth as he spoke and then brought her eyes back up to his. There was just enough ambient light from the stars and the aurora lights that streaked across the sky at random intervals that Sam could see the green of her irises. “Shut up and kiss me, Sam,” she ordered.
There was nothing for him to do but comply.