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singerdiva01Title: A Girl Walks Into a Ball
Rating: M
Characters: Kara Thrace, Laura Roslin
Pairing: Kara/Laura
Summary: Kara never had the luxury of believing in fairy tales. She was the type of girl who figured it best to have no expectations at all. She never, ever thought her life would change in one night, at a ball. (Written for BSG Kink prompt, Kara/Laura, after the president's annual military ball.)
I had no idea who she was until this morning, when I woke up hungover and alone in her fancy hotel room with her cum dried all over my face.
I’d pinned her as some prissy society lady, the kind I always have to resist the urge to punch in the face. She just slid right down beside me, uninvited, in her white silk gown and diamond choker and asked if I was going to finish the table wine.
I ignored her at first. I was hoping she’d take the hint and go away. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was make small talk with a rich bitch who I figured knew nothing about real life, or work, or pain worse than being told her favorite table wasn’t available.
Damn, though, she was beautiful. Creamy skin, a rack that would look good on a woman any age, and the kind of hair that makes you want to reach out and dig your fingers in until you hit skin.
And, much to my surprise, funny in a mischievous kind of way no lady like her had ever thought to be.
The woman made giggling look elegant.
She left, came back with a bottle of whiskey, and told me she’d only share if I told her my name.
By the time they started closing up the bar and playing the last song, I’d told her that and a whole hell of a lot more. Things I usually never tell people. I mean, frak, I even told her about Zak.
Yes, it could have been the whiskey but she was easy to talk to and she had this way of making me feel like she was actually interested in my life. Not too many people in the world who’d pass up rubbing elbows with Caprica’s finest to chat it up with a frakked up Viper pilot.
But she did and she hardly ever even looked over at the dance floor. The few times she did, she got this sad look on her face. In fact, the longer I talked to her, the more I realized her entire demeanor was sad. Not like something had happened at the party. More like something so horrible had happened to her the sad just seeped into her pores and become part of her milky skin.
She didn’t tell me what it was but it made me want to punch whoever did it anyway.
The invitation to come upstairs was entirely unexpected. Not unwelcome, I admit, but certainly unexpected. Women like her don’t sleep with, well, girls like me.
But then, everything single damn thing about last night was unexpected.
I certainly didn’t expect her to slam me back up against the wall as soon as the door shut and kiss me hard and deep or thrust her knee between my legs with such skill I could actually feel the wetness flowing out of me like a dam had broken.
I never imagined a woman that small could drag me across the room and throw me on the bed like a rag doll but she did and hard.
Well, that might not mean much. I wanted her hands on me so bad I would have followed her anywhere and let her do absolutely anything.
On the elevator up to her hotel room, it occurred to me she might never have been with a woman before. I figured I’d have to teach her the mechanics, maybe even get myself off if she got squeamish.
She had me begging.
Well, she did shortly after she practically ripped off my dress uniform and went after my body like a lioness in heat, her claws digging into my back and my breasts just hard enough to make me start panting.
In fact, a lioness is exactly what she looked like, her red mane bouncing as she tucked into me like a juicy steak.
She wasn’t a first timer; she was a master.
No, really. It was like she learned to eat pussy from Sappho herself.
She brought me to the edge, pulled me back, and got me there again so many times I finally had to tug on her hair and scream a couple obscenities before she relented and sent me plunging over into oblivion.
It was one of the best orgasms of my life, I swear. I’m not just saying that. Top five, easy.
She looked so frakking beautiful looking down on me from in between my still spread, shaky legs in that fancy gown, with her hair wild and a smug look on her face. When she licked my wetness off her lips she did it slowly, deliberately, her emerald eyes daring me to take her just as rough.
I felt myself getting turned on again when I thought about the look in those eyes if I pounced, rolled her over, pinned her to the bed, and showed her what the lion does when teased.
I’ve always liked to frak like I fly: fast, hard, and ruthless.
But not with her. I didn’t want to do it that way with her.
She was expecting it and expecting it in a way that made me realize, for Gods know what reason because, frak, she’s the whole damn package, that she’d rarely, if ever, been savored like she deserved.
I didn’t pounce. I eased myself up slowly, got on my knees so our faces were inches apart, and stroked her cheek with my thumb.
I knew my hypothesis was correct from the look I saw in her eyes just before I kissed her. She made to pull away, move on to the action, but I held her close and worshipped her mouth with my tongue until she finally relaxed into my arms.
That was when she started making these little noises. Hums deep down in her throat that made her lips vibrate on mine.
They were hands down the sexiest thing I’d ever heard.
She giggled when I backed her off the bed to stand on the floor and turned around so I could unzip her gown. She held the fabric at her waist while I undid her bra and tossed it across the room.
I almost choked when she turned around and let the silk fall to the floor.
Legs.
Oh my frakking gods, legs.
No joke, it was the only word I could even remember existed in the English language for at least ten seconds.
She smiled shyly, a self conscious blush coloring her cheeks.
I had to pounce then. There was just no way around it.
I pulled her down on the bed, flipped her on her back, and kissed my way down her entire body. She was writhing, making those little noises, and I could smell her arousal. She kept trying to push my head between her legs but I wanted to worship those perfect limbs first.
I kissed and licked my way up one and down the other, nipped at the soft skin of her thighs, and then went around for another pass.
I must have teased her a little too much because she growled, actually growled, and pulled me up to her sex by my hair. She wrapped her legs around my head so fast I didn’t even have time to take a breath and for a second I imagined being smothered to death in her slippery slit.
Let me tell you, I’m gonna be rubbing off to that fantasy for the rest of my life.
She was so wet, so desperate, and it was over far too fast for me. When she came she came with a high, strangled wail. She released her grip on my head just enough to let me watch her come undone, her neck arched and her eyes rolled back in her head.
I started licking her clean before her orgasm was even finished and she whimpered a protest when I started flicking her clit again. Her second climax seemed to catch her off guard and she pulled my hair so hard I’m surprised I don’t have a bald patch up there.
When she recovered, her eyes fluttered open and she smiled at me like I’d taken on ten Cylon raiders on my own and won.
She crooked her finger and patted at her chest and I felt myself release a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.
I think I might have actually cried if she’d asked me to leave.
She fell asleep a lot faster than me. I was still aching with need, replaying the glorious sights and sounds and smells of her release over and over in my head.
I dared to let myself hope I’d get to put that look back on her face in the morning.
There’s a reason I usually keep my expectations low. I hardly ever let myself hope my frak of the week will still be there in the morning. No disappointment that way.
It was stupid to think she’d be different. What the frak was I thinking? That a woman like her would fall in love with the likes of me?
The tears, those were unexpected. I had to wipe them away with the back of my hand when someone started knocking on the door.
I expected someone from the hotel there to kick me out.
I was right on one count.
I didn’t really hear what the guy in the cheap suit with the stupid bow tie was telling me. Something about a car and reporters. Lots of apologies, I think.
I was too busy looking at the picture in the newspaper he’d thrust in my hands.
It had to have been taken right after she’d leaned over and asked me up to her room. Maybe even right at that moment. Her arm was laced through mine and she was craning her neck to whisper in my ear. I was grinning like an idiot.
I was so flummoxed at seeing myself in the paper it took me a second to remember to look up at the headline.
Roslin Leaves Fleet Ball With Mystery Pilot
I only had to read two lines in to find out why the hell that merited space in the frakking paper.
Secretary of Education.
Rumored to be President Adar’s long term mistress.
I was so angry I don’t even remember slamming the door or tugging on my boots and the parts of my uniform I could find. I know bow tie boy was still trembling outside when I opened the door again.
I wondered if she sent all her one night stands a car or just the ones she got caught with?
On the way to my apartment, I called her every name in the book under my breath. I don’t know if it was that or the fact he had to drive to my dingy neighborhood that made the driver look like he’d smelled something rotten.
I guess you could say I’d lost all my steam by the time I wrenched open the front door of my building and started up the stairs.
It’s not like she promised me a ring. It was a frak, nothing more. Not like the Secretary of Education could take an insubordinate pilot on a date anyway.
But I hated that she made me feel sleazy. Made last night feel cheap.
I hated how much it hurt. Hated myself for letting it hurt that bad.
Hated myself even more when I saw the note and the single white rose sitting on the dingy mat in front of my door and immediately, almost unconsciously, prayed it was from her.
Kara,
I don’t have stationary long enough to tell you how sorry I am.
I want you to know I don’t regret last night. I was happier there with you there in that room than I’ve been in years.
I do regret any trouble this morning’s paper causes you. I regret that you probably feel hurt and used and probably hate me for, well, you know the list.
I’m on Leonis for a conference but back tomorrow night. Any chance you’d let me make it up to you? I can get us a table at Cipriani’s -- gods know this job has to come with some perks to make it worth it.
My cell is below. I’d love to hear from you, Kara, at least to know you’re alright. If I don’t, well, know I’ll remember last night for the rest of my life.
hopefully yours,
Laura
I don’t forgive and forget. Never have.
I also don’t cry twice in one day.
I guess I knew what my answer was when I started thinking about what I was gonna wear to that fancy joint before the door was even shut behind me.
Ok, I admit it. I was also hoping part of her making it up to me would involve a very, very short skirt.
I had to search under quite a few piles to find the phone when it rang.
I looked at the caller ID. At least this Adama’s ass chewing would be a little less bloody than his father’s.
Lee didn’t even say hello, just asked if I’d really frakked the Secretary of Education.
I told him it was worse than that. He laughed and asked me if I’d killed her or something.
No, I said, even worse.
I think I fell in love with her.
Rating: M
Characters: Kara Thrace, Laura Roslin
Pairing: Kara/Laura
Summary: Kara never had the luxury of believing in fairy tales. She was the type of girl who figured it best to have no expectations at all. She never, ever thought her life would change in one night, at a ball. (Written for BSG Kink prompt, Kara/Laura, after the president's annual military ball.)
I had no idea who she was until this morning, when I woke up hungover and alone in her fancy hotel room with her cum dried all over my face.
I’d pinned her as some prissy society lady, the kind I always have to resist the urge to punch in the face. She just slid right down beside me, uninvited, in her white silk gown and diamond choker and asked if I was going to finish the table wine.
I ignored her at first. I was hoping she’d take the hint and go away. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was make small talk with a rich bitch who I figured knew nothing about real life, or work, or pain worse than being told her favorite table wasn’t available.
Damn, though, she was beautiful. Creamy skin, a rack that would look good on a woman any age, and the kind of hair that makes you want to reach out and dig your fingers in until you hit skin.
And, much to my surprise, funny in a mischievous kind of way no lady like her had ever thought to be.
The woman made giggling look elegant.
She left, came back with a bottle of whiskey, and told me she’d only share if I told her my name.
By the time they started closing up the bar and playing the last song, I’d told her that and a whole hell of a lot more. Things I usually never tell people. I mean, frak, I even told her about Zak.
Yes, it could have been the whiskey but she was easy to talk to and she had this way of making me feel like she was actually interested in my life. Not too many people in the world who’d pass up rubbing elbows with Caprica’s finest to chat it up with a frakked up Viper pilot.
But she did and she hardly ever even looked over at the dance floor. The few times she did, she got this sad look on her face. In fact, the longer I talked to her, the more I realized her entire demeanor was sad. Not like something had happened at the party. More like something so horrible had happened to her the sad just seeped into her pores and become part of her milky skin.
She didn’t tell me what it was but it made me want to punch whoever did it anyway.
The invitation to come upstairs was entirely unexpected. Not unwelcome, I admit, but certainly unexpected. Women like her don’t sleep with, well, girls like me.
But then, everything single damn thing about last night was unexpected.
I certainly didn’t expect her to slam me back up against the wall as soon as the door shut and kiss me hard and deep or thrust her knee between my legs with such skill I could actually feel the wetness flowing out of me like a dam had broken.
I never imagined a woman that small could drag me across the room and throw me on the bed like a rag doll but she did and hard.
Well, that might not mean much. I wanted her hands on me so bad I would have followed her anywhere and let her do absolutely anything.
On the elevator up to her hotel room, it occurred to me she might never have been with a woman before. I figured I’d have to teach her the mechanics, maybe even get myself off if she got squeamish.
She had me begging.
Well, she did shortly after she practically ripped off my dress uniform and went after my body like a lioness in heat, her claws digging into my back and my breasts just hard enough to make me start panting.
In fact, a lioness is exactly what she looked like, her red mane bouncing as she tucked into me like a juicy steak.
She wasn’t a first timer; she was a master.
No, really. It was like she learned to eat pussy from Sappho herself.
She brought me to the edge, pulled me back, and got me there again so many times I finally had to tug on her hair and scream a couple obscenities before she relented and sent me plunging over into oblivion.
It was one of the best orgasms of my life, I swear. I’m not just saying that. Top five, easy.
She looked so frakking beautiful looking down on me from in between my still spread, shaky legs in that fancy gown, with her hair wild and a smug look on her face. When she licked my wetness off her lips she did it slowly, deliberately, her emerald eyes daring me to take her just as rough.
I felt myself getting turned on again when I thought about the look in those eyes if I pounced, rolled her over, pinned her to the bed, and showed her what the lion does when teased.
I’ve always liked to frak like I fly: fast, hard, and ruthless.
But not with her. I didn’t want to do it that way with her.
She was expecting it and expecting it in a way that made me realize, for Gods know what reason because, frak, she’s the whole damn package, that she’d rarely, if ever, been savored like she deserved.
I didn’t pounce. I eased myself up slowly, got on my knees so our faces were inches apart, and stroked her cheek with my thumb.
I knew my hypothesis was correct from the look I saw in her eyes just before I kissed her. She made to pull away, move on to the action, but I held her close and worshipped her mouth with my tongue until she finally relaxed into my arms.
That was when she started making these little noises. Hums deep down in her throat that made her lips vibrate on mine.
They were hands down the sexiest thing I’d ever heard.
She giggled when I backed her off the bed to stand on the floor and turned around so I could unzip her gown. She held the fabric at her waist while I undid her bra and tossed it across the room.
I almost choked when she turned around and let the silk fall to the floor.
Legs.
Oh my frakking gods, legs.
No joke, it was the only word I could even remember existed in the English language for at least ten seconds.
She smiled shyly, a self conscious blush coloring her cheeks.
I had to pounce then. There was just no way around it.
I pulled her down on the bed, flipped her on her back, and kissed my way down her entire body. She was writhing, making those little noises, and I could smell her arousal. She kept trying to push my head between her legs but I wanted to worship those perfect limbs first.
I kissed and licked my way up one and down the other, nipped at the soft skin of her thighs, and then went around for another pass.
I must have teased her a little too much because she growled, actually growled, and pulled me up to her sex by my hair. She wrapped her legs around my head so fast I didn’t even have time to take a breath and for a second I imagined being smothered to death in her slippery slit.
Let me tell you, I’m gonna be rubbing off to that fantasy for the rest of my life.
She was so wet, so desperate, and it was over far too fast for me. When she came she came with a high, strangled wail. She released her grip on my head just enough to let me watch her come undone, her neck arched and her eyes rolled back in her head.
I started licking her clean before her orgasm was even finished and she whimpered a protest when I started flicking her clit again. Her second climax seemed to catch her off guard and she pulled my hair so hard I’m surprised I don’t have a bald patch up there.
When she recovered, her eyes fluttered open and she smiled at me like I’d taken on ten Cylon raiders on my own and won.
She crooked her finger and patted at her chest and I felt myself release a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.
I think I might have actually cried if she’d asked me to leave.
She fell asleep a lot faster than me. I was still aching with need, replaying the glorious sights and sounds and smells of her release over and over in my head.
I dared to let myself hope I’d get to put that look back on her face in the morning.
There’s a reason I usually keep my expectations low. I hardly ever let myself hope my frak of the week will still be there in the morning. No disappointment that way.
It was stupid to think she’d be different. What the frak was I thinking? That a woman like her would fall in love with the likes of me?
The tears, those were unexpected. I had to wipe them away with the back of my hand when someone started knocking on the door.
I expected someone from the hotel there to kick me out.
I was right on one count.
I didn’t really hear what the guy in the cheap suit with the stupid bow tie was telling me. Something about a car and reporters. Lots of apologies, I think.
I was too busy looking at the picture in the newspaper he’d thrust in my hands.
It had to have been taken right after she’d leaned over and asked me up to her room. Maybe even right at that moment. Her arm was laced through mine and she was craning her neck to whisper in my ear. I was grinning like an idiot.
I was so flummoxed at seeing myself in the paper it took me a second to remember to look up at the headline.
Roslin Leaves Fleet Ball With Mystery Pilot
I only had to read two lines in to find out why the hell that merited space in the frakking paper.
Secretary of Education.
Rumored to be President Adar’s long term mistress.
I was so angry I don’t even remember slamming the door or tugging on my boots and the parts of my uniform I could find. I know bow tie boy was still trembling outside when I opened the door again.
I wondered if she sent all her one night stands a car or just the ones she got caught with?
On the way to my apartment, I called her every name in the book under my breath. I don’t know if it was that or the fact he had to drive to my dingy neighborhood that made the driver look like he’d smelled something rotten.
I guess you could say I’d lost all my steam by the time I wrenched open the front door of my building and started up the stairs.
It’s not like she promised me a ring. It was a frak, nothing more. Not like the Secretary of Education could take an insubordinate pilot on a date anyway.
But I hated that she made me feel sleazy. Made last night feel cheap.
I hated how much it hurt. Hated myself for letting it hurt that bad.
Hated myself even more when I saw the note and the single white rose sitting on the dingy mat in front of my door and immediately, almost unconsciously, prayed it was from her.
Kara,
I don’t have stationary long enough to tell you how sorry I am.
I want you to know I don’t regret last night. I was happier there with you there in that room than I’ve been in years.
I do regret any trouble this morning’s paper causes you. I regret that you probably feel hurt and used and probably hate me for, well, you know the list.
I’m on Leonis for a conference but back tomorrow night. Any chance you’d let me make it up to you? I can get us a table at Cipriani’s -- gods know this job has to come with some perks to make it worth it.
My cell is below. I’d love to hear from you, Kara, at least to know you’re alright. If I don’t, well, know I’ll remember last night for the rest of my life.
hopefully yours,
Laura
I don’t forgive and forget. Never have.
I also don’t cry twice in one day.
I guess I knew what my answer was when I started thinking about what I was gonna wear to that fancy joint before the door was even shut behind me.
Ok, I admit it. I was also hoping part of her making it up to me would involve a very, very short skirt.
I had to search under quite a few piles to find the phone when it rang.
I looked at the caller ID. At least this Adama’s ass chewing would be a little less bloody than his father’s.
Lee didn’t even say hello, just asked if I’d really frakked the Secretary of Education.
I told him it was worse than that. He laughed and asked me if I’d killed her or something.
No, I said, even worse.
I think I fell in love with her.
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