Captain Crankypants and Commander Tightpants Get It On
Title: Captain Crankypants and Commander Tightpants Get It On
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Pairing: Lee/Kara
Rating: R
Spoilers: Razor
Summary: A happy Starbuck makes for a much happier squadron and a generally happier Battlestar.
Author's Note: Inspired by the Razor photos in the Daily Pilots Post over at no_takebacks. As for the title... well, I hate titles, and taragel and I couldn't think of a good one, so we figured hey, might as well just get to the point.
He's pretty sure -- no, he's absolutely positive -- that it's against frat regs for him to be frakking his CAG. But he's also sure that a happy Starbuck makes for a much happier squadron and a generally happier Battlestar. So when her temper flares (which it does, daily), he takes one for the team and orders her to his quarters to work off some steam.
It beats the hell out of the Galactica bunkroom, he thinks, when the hatch door slides shut and locks itself automatically. No dogging a hatch, no boots outside the door, just Kara pushing him back onto his sofa and straddling him, her mouth hot and urgent and angry on his. She wiped the blood off her lip on the way here, but he can still taste the metallic tang of it when she angles her head and thrusts her tongue into his mouth.
She's edgy, and he knows just a little of it is fear. Shaw's decision was tactically sound, but put his pilots at a hell of a risk, and frankly Kara's lucky to be back on the Pegasus in one piece. She tugs at his buttons, growls her frustration when the second one gets tangled around a loose string, and slaps at his hands when he tries to push her tanks up and over her head.
Okay, then. She's in charge.
It's not a bad position to be in -- underneath Kara as she works out her adrenaline. Her skin is flushed and still sweaty from battle, salty under his tongue when he leans in and kisses at the hollow of her throat. He can still smell a hint of the coconut oil he keeps stashed in his private head just for her (it was Cain's, but you take what you can get when you're on the run, and spend half your day in a flight suit that chafes), and he breathes deep until he's full of her smell, sweet and sweaty and exactly right. She's got his jacket off now, and he takes his mouth off her skin long enough to shrug out of it, her greedy hands already pulling his tanks up. Hers go next, and a minute later pants and skivvies are gone too. She's apparently too keyed up to bother with foreplay, giving him one firm tug, then another, before sinking down around him with a satisfied groan.
Her eyes are shut tight and she bites out a quiet, "Oh yeah, that's..." before she opens her eyes and locks them on his. He has the fleeting thought that it's the only thing she's said since they got there, which is odd for her, but then she's moving, riding him quick and staring him down and he's pretty much only thinking how good this feels. She doesn't take long, and neither does he, so a few minutes later they're catching their breath, his hands coasting over her skin lazily in the little bit of afterglow they have time for.
"You okay?" he asks her quietly, and she shrugs a shoulder.
"In one piece. No thanks to your frakking XO."
He doesn't want to argue with her, so he just leans in and swirls his tongue in the hollow of her shoulder, then makes a show of sniffing at her. "You stink."
Kara rolls her eyes and smiles, says "Well, someone's gotta do the heavy lifting around here, while you sit on your ass in this palatial throne room you've got going on."
Lee thinks That's better, and gives her rear end a little pat to urge her up. "Well, this palatial throne room has a private head with a shower big enough for two, so I wouldn't knock it."
"Mm." She's grinning now, and he is too. "True." She pushes herself up and off, then challenges, "Race you!" before sprinting toward the bathroom. Lee just laughs and lets her win.
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Pairing: Lee/Kara
Rating: R
Spoilers: Razor
Summary: A happy Starbuck makes for a much happier squadron and a generally happier Battlestar.
Author's Note: Inspired by the Razor photos in the Daily Pilots Post over at no_takebacks. As for the title... well, I hate titles, and taragel and I couldn't think of a good one, so we figured hey, might as well just get to the point.
He's pretty sure -- no, he's absolutely positive -- that it's against frat regs for him to be frakking his CAG. But he's also sure that a happy Starbuck makes for a much happier squadron and a generally happier Battlestar. So when her temper flares (which it does, daily), he takes one for the team and orders her to his quarters to work off some steam.
It beats the hell out of the Galactica bunkroom, he thinks, when the hatch door slides shut and locks itself automatically. No dogging a hatch, no boots outside the door, just Kara pushing him back onto his sofa and straddling him, her mouth hot and urgent and angry on his. She wiped the blood off her lip on the way here, but he can still taste the metallic tang of it when she angles her head and thrusts her tongue into his mouth.
She's edgy, and he knows just a little of it is fear. Shaw's decision was tactically sound, but put his pilots at a hell of a risk, and frankly Kara's lucky to be back on the Pegasus in one piece. She tugs at his buttons, growls her frustration when the second one gets tangled around a loose string, and slaps at his hands when he tries to push her tanks up and over her head.
Okay, then. She's in charge.
It's not a bad position to be in -- underneath Kara as she works out her adrenaline. Her skin is flushed and still sweaty from battle, salty under his tongue when he leans in and kisses at the hollow of her throat. He can still smell a hint of the coconut oil he keeps stashed in his private head just for her (it was Cain's, but you take what you can get when you're on the run, and spend half your day in a flight suit that chafes), and he breathes deep until he's full of her smell, sweet and sweaty and exactly right. She's got his jacket off now, and he takes his mouth off her skin long enough to shrug out of it, her greedy hands already pulling his tanks up. Hers go next, and a minute later pants and skivvies are gone too. She's apparently too keyed up to bother with foreplay, giving him one firm tug, then another, before sinking down around him with a satisfied groan.
Her eyes are shut tight and she bites out a quiet, "Oh yeah, that's..." before she opens her eyes and locks them on his. He has the fleeting thought that it's the only thing she's said since they got there, which is odd for her, but then she's moving, riding him quick and staring him down and he's pretty much only thinking how good this feels. She doesn't take long, and neither does he, so a few minutes later they're catching their breath, his hands coasting over her skin lazily in the little bit of afterglow they have time for.
"You okay?" he asks her quietly, and she shrugs a shoulder.
"In one piece. No thanks to your frakking XO."
He doesn't want to argue with her, so he just leans in and swirls his tongue in the hollow of her shoulder, then makes a show of sniffing at her. "You stink."
Kara rolls her eyes and smiles, says "Well, someone's gotta do the heavy lifting around here, while you sit on your ass in this palatial throne room you've got going on."
Lee thinks That's better, and gives her rear end a little pat to urge her up. "Well, this palatial throne room has a private head with a shower big enough for two, so I wouldn't knock it."
"Mm." She's grinning now, and he is too. "True." She pushes herself up and off, then challenges, "Race you!" before sprinting toward the bathroom. Lee just laughs and lets her win.