bsg ficlet: All For Fun, Kat/Leoben, R
Disclaimer: not mine
Characters: Sasha (Louanne Katraine), Ben (Leoben)
Rating: R, sex, language
Length: ... er, like 700 words. Maybe.
Set: Pre-series
Notes: I blame frolicndetour, bluediamond421 and ivanolix
All For Fun
by ALC Punk!
She told him her name was Sasha, and he laughed, rolling the word around his tongue like there was some special meaning to it. Not that she cared, she was already drunk, and he was cute and had that sad little look in his eyes just asking to get laid.
Five minutes later, his hand was on her thigh, and Sasha was congratulating herself on stealing the skirt from her last cargo run. She tossed her head, feeling her curls bounce everywhere. They looked crazy, echoing how she felt. "We should go somewhere," she suggested, her hand joining his, wondering if he liked the stockings (ripped or not, they frame her legs better than bare).
"Not yet," he said, smiling at her. Sweet, wistful, sad--all those thing Sasha knew better than to fall for.
But there was something magnetic about him, and she told herself she didn't care.
"You're special." It was later, his hands on her hips, her back against the mirror over the sink (she didn't remember how they got there), he kissed her neck, nipped at the skin. "Different," he mumbled before he was on his knees.
Like she was some sort of Goddess. Sasha didn't mind, she'd always liked being worshiped. She whined a little when he took his time. Her fingers closed in his hair, tugging, pushing, but he was determined and too frakking strong and then it didn't matter. Like his tongue knew just the right way to slide across her, in and out, up and around until she was cracking her head against the mirror while she came.
Sasha slid off the sink and knelt on the floor to kiss him, tasting herself and trying not to wonder about whatever the hell was on the floor underneath them. "My place or yours," she rasped the question, his hand under her shirt, blunt nails scraping her side in a way that made her shudder with desire for more.
He kissed her again, not answering as he sucked at her mouth as though she were the only thing in the world.
"Mine," Sasha mumbled into his mouth, moaning when his fingers gripped her hip. "Not on the floor--" she shoved at him, recovering enough of her scattered wits to get them on their feet.
She didn't ever find out where her panties went, not that it mattered.
They ended up in her tiny little cubicle of a room, just call me Ben with his hands on her hips, supporting her as he thrust in and out, steady as a metronome until she was growling at him, nails tearing into the skin on his chest. His rhythm faltered, shifted, and she was pinned to the wall, grinding against him as her climax broke over both of them.
Afterwards, they lay tangled. He traced his name in the sweat on her skin, she stroked the edges of the scrapes on him and didn't apologize.
He laughed, suddenly, kissed his way from her hip to her breasts, then nuzzled between them for a moment before raising his head. "There's a pattern to your world," he kissed the tip of her nipple, "I think I like it."
Sasha felt him shift, but didn't stop him as he climbed free of her and stood next to her bed. This hadn't been usual for her: quick fraks in bathroom stalls usually ended when they left the soap dispensers behind. She didn't bring people back unless they were out on their asses a moment after she'd come. Sliding onto her knees, she leaned in and kissed the deepest of her scratches. "I have to get some rack time. Early flight tomorrow."
It was pure laziness that had her on her side, watching in silence as he dressed. His fingers tangled in her hair, hauling her head back as he kissed her one last time, mouth drifting over her throat, teeth brushing her pulse point.
That last spark kept her awake far longer than she would have liked. She fell asleep just around the time dawn broke.
-=-
When the world ended five months later, Sasha changed her name and found religion. She flew, she fought, she frakked. And when she found Ben again, it was with the sick realization that he was the enemy.
More fuel to the fire, then. Louanne Katraine welcomed it, even when it burned her up in the end.
-f
Characters: Sasha (Louanne Katraine), Ben (Leoben)
Rating: R, sex, language
Length: ... er, like 700 words. Maybe.
Set: Pre-series
Notes: I blame frolicndetour, bluediamond421 and ivanolix
All For Fun
by ALC Punk!
She told him her name was Sasha, and he laughed, rolling the word around his tongue like there was some special meaning to it. Not that she cared, she was already drunk, and he was cute and had that sad little look in his eyes just asking to get laid.
Five minutes later, his hand was on her thigh, and Sasha was congratulating herself on stealing the skirt from her last cargo run. She tossed her head, feeling her curls bounce everywhere. They looked crazy, echoing how she felt. "We should go somewhere," she suggested, her hand joining his, wondering if he liked the stockings (ripped or not, they frame her legs better than bare).
"Not yet," he said, smiling at her. Sweet, wistful, sad--all those thing Sasha knew better than to fall for.
But there was something magnetic about him, and she told herself she didn't care.
"You're special." It was later, his hands on her hips, her back against the mirror over the sink (she didn't remember how they got there), he kissed her neck, nipped at the skin. "Different," he mumbled before he was on his knees.
Like she was some sort of Goddess. Sasha didn't mind, she'd always liked being worshiped. She whined a little when he took his time. Her fingers closed in his hair, tugging, pushing, but he was determined and too frakking strong and then it didn't matter. Like his tongue knew just the right way to slide across her, in and out, up and around until she was cracking her head against the mirror while she came.
Sasha slid off the sink and knelt on the floor to kiss him, tasting herself and trying not to wonder about whatever the hell was on the floor underneath them. "My place or yours," she rasped the question, his hand under her shirt, blunt nails scraping her side in a way that made her shudder with desire for more.
He kissed her again, not answering as he sucked at her mouth as though she were the only thing in the world.
"Mine," Sasha mumbled into his mouth, moaning when his fingers gripped her hip. "Not on the floor--" she shoved at him, recovering enough of her scattered wits to get them on their feet.
She didn't ever find out where her panties went, not that it mattered.
They ended up in her tiny little cubicle of a room, just call me Ben with his hands on her hips, supporting her as he thrust in and out, steady as a metronome until she was growling at him, nails tearing into the skin on his chest. His rhythm faltered, shifted, and she was pinned to the wall, grinding against him as her climax broke over both of them.
Afterwards, they lay tangled. He traced his name in the sweat on her skin, she stroked the edges of the scrapes on him and didn't apologize.
He laughed, suddenly, kissed his way from her hip to her breasts, then nuzzled between them for a moment before raising his head. "There's a pattern to your world," he kissed the tip of her nipple, "I think I like it."
Sasha felt him shift, but didn't stop him as he climbed free of her and stood next to her bed. This hadn't been usual for her: quick fraks in bathroom stalls usually ended when they left the soap dispensers behind. She didn't bring people back unless they were out on their asses a moment after she'd come. Sliding onto her knees, she leaned in and kissed the deepest of her scratches. "I have to get some rack time. Early flight tomorrow."
It was pure laziness that had her on her side, watching in silence as he dressed. His fingers tangled in her hair, hauling her head back as he kissed her one last time, mouth drifting over her throat, teeth brushing her pulse point.
That last spark kept her awake far longer than she would have liked. She fell asleep just around the time dawn broke.
-=-
When the world ended five months later, Sasha changed her name and found religion. She flew, she fought, she frakked. And when she found Ben again, it was with the sick realization that he was the enemy.
More fuel to the fire, then. Louanne Katraine welcomed it, even when it burned her up in the end.
-f