fandom: Battlestar Galactica
pairing: Starbuck/Roslin (and D’anna, Boomer, Cain)
spoilers: some for season 2.2, especially Epiphanies
challenge: #44 ~ gluttony
A/N: this discussion of BSG femslash kinks is originally responsible, but jennyo and tellitslant’s ridiculously hot porn made it impossible not to write (the sort of first-time story that makes you want to watch them do it the tenth time, and the hundredth time). my warmup for getyourtoaster
"Where did you get this?"
On the desk in front of Laura is a cloth napkin unfolded to reveal a picnic lunch. The cucumber's green looks decadent beside the unappetizing monochrome of a protein ration. It's hothouse-perfect, fresh and alive.
Behind the desk Kara stands at attention, grinning cheekily at Laura's surprise. Laura isn't smiling.
"I told you to be good," Laura says.
"I can be better with, you know, the right tools," Kara replies, unabashed.
"Not when those tools are contraband." Laura comes around the desk and encircles Kara's neck with her hands, compressing her windpipe slightly. A warning.
"It's my job to know things," D'anna said. "The things it's your job to hide."
Laura raised an eyebrow, crossed and uncrossed her legs.
"I know that you suspect Gaius Baltar and that you'd kill the cylon if you could. I know that you care about survival more than you care about freedom. I know you take black-market chamalla and I know you frakked Kara Thrace."
"And that's what you're going to tell the public?"
"It's my job to know. And it's my job to know when to tell, and when not to." D'anna put her hand on Laura's knee.
Now that Kara's CAG, she has an excuse to schedule meetings with the president. It might be purely the convenience that persuades Laura to keep frakking her. Kara doesn't want to jinx it by asking questions. Because this — the audible wheeze of her breath and the way Laura's eyes impale her — this is like flying.
"We, of all people, have to set an example," Laura is saying.
Kara plays contrite. "Yes ma'am, I understand. It was a one-time thing. For you."
But for once, she's not sorry. Because Laura's hungry for her — and no, that's more than a convenient frak.
D'anna chases her scoops like she's starving for them, and she chased Kara the same way.
She followed Kara into the showers, cameraman in tow. Kara's hands stalled at the waistband of her pants. "You're going to keep filming?"
"Do you want me to?" It was a dare, and Kara never backs down.
She flipped the knob and yanked D'anna under the spray. She pinned D'anna to the wall and frakked her with three fingers. D'anna let her.
"Who do you wish would watch this tape, Starbuck?" D'anna leered when they were finished. "Are you going to answer me that?"
"Don't imagine I thought for a moment that you intended it for eating. But if you expect to frak me with that, you're sorely misguided." Laura is unbuttoning Kara's uniform. "Take your pants off."
When they're still around one ankle, Laura grabs Kara by the back of the neck and forces her over the desk. The violence is uncharacteristic, and catches Kara off-balance. Laura's fingernails bite into her skin and Kara tastes blood where her teeth crushed her lip. It's the taste of survival.
"You've been bad, Kara." Laura slaps her cunt lightly, then harder. She's wet against Laura's hand.
"Are you here to thank me?"
Sharon was sneering at Laura from the other side of the glass.
"Yes," Laura said simply, and keyed open the door of the cell.
Sharon took a step backward. "I could kill you right now."
"I could kill you. I've killed before. So which of us is in more danger?"
"You came to murder my baby, and instead she saved your life," Sharon said. "We're blood now, the three of us."
Laura's hands shook as she put them on Sharon's belly. "Yes," she said, and kissed her. "We both have to live with that."
"You've been bad, but I'm going to frak you anyway. Do you know why?"
Kara just grips the edge of the desk and moans. The noise starts in her cunt, which Laura is spreading open with her thumbs.
"Because my life now is saying no. But I can say yes to you. It pleases me to give you what you want."
When Kara wants cock she can get it, but cock doesn't have the president's arm behind it. The skin of the cucumber feels cool and glossy as it slides into her.
"You bought it," Laura says, "you take it."
After Zak died, Kara went on furlough. She drank continually and didn't leave her apartment. Sharon showed up one day, said "I got the weekend off," and dragged Kara to jump rock. "You stink, Kara," Sharon told her. She stripped them both and pushed Kara into the lake. In the water, Kara wrapped her legs and arms around Sharon and they floated, skin to skin.
It was fall – the lake was warm but the air smelled like snow. "I never want you to leave this place," Sharon said.
When Kara saw Sharon's double on Caprica, that was what she remembered.
Kara's fingers are circling her clit. Laura has angled the cucumber downward, and as she thrusts it punches Kara in that perfect spot, over and over. When Kara lifts her hips toward it, Laura growls "Don't move" and pins her with her thigh. She jerks Kara backward by the hair, the shaft goes in deep, and Kara comes and comes.
Laura pulls the cucumber out and smears it against Kara's lips. Kara opens her eyes, opens her mouth and bites into it. It tastes like her, like water and springtime on Caprica. Like life. "Mmm," Kara says, "you try it."
"I'm sure we can come to an amicable arrangement, Ms. Roslin," Admiral Cain said. She stepped into Laura's space, so that when she raised her hand to finger the insignia on her uniform it almost brushed Laura's breast. It was like a dance between them, these two women who made sex part of their power. Laura didn't step back.
"No need for you to be involved in every tedious aspect of fleet ops," Cain went on. "There are only so many hours in the day, after all, and you're only human." Cain's smile was predatory.
"Yes," Laura answered, "I am."
Laura licks the vegetable pornographically, laughing. She runs her tongue over the gash that Kara made, and moans at the unexpected ripeness. "Oh," she says, "I'd forgotten."
"Let's remember," Kara says, and reaches under her skirt.
As she scratches the bare skin above Laura's stockings, Kara whispers, "You make me want to be good."
"No." Laura kisses her, hard and wet. "I make you see that you're good already."
Kara may never be sorry again. She bites Laura's lip and pinches her clit through her panties. "Gods," Laura says, "frak me. Like your life depended on it." And Kara does.
As Admiral Cain fed Kara her cock, Kara wondered if she could kill this woman.
She was on her knees, taking it down her throat and silently daring Cain to choke her. Cain did, hands gripping the back of Kara's head. When Kara wrestled free, gagging, Cain slapped the dildo against her cheek.
"Good girl," Cain said. "Let me show you how I reward my subordinates for their obedience."
Kara thought of the president, the way Laura's hips writhed under her palms. Two women who owned her. Only one who promised salvation. For that, Kara knew, she could do anything.