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letterstonorahA Kara/Laura fic written for the BSG Epics Shipping Wars! It's too long to put over there, so here it be! 1700 words and NC17. Thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wishflsinfl for the prompt, "mommy issues". Warnings for porn. Mild amount of angst. AU, but the 12 Colonies are still the 12 Colonies.
A part of Laura will always wonder if Kara is only frakking her because of the girl’s obvious mommy issues.
But then Kara’s tongue makes its way from Laura’s inner thigh to her clit, sliding up and down along the tender, wet skin before plunging inside. Those moments, when Laura’s hips are driving into Kara’s face wildly, desperate to come, she doesn’t give two shits about why Kara is frakking her, is just thankful that it’s happening.
Afterwards, when they’re embracing each other on the couch, watching reruns of bad teen dramas, Laura doesn’t think of anything at all but how beautiful Kara’s face is when it lights up with laughter.
*
Kara never goes out of her way to look good, but somehow, she always does. She’s wearing an old fitted pyramid jersey that shows off her curves. The jeans she has on are a size too big, and her hair is long enough now that she has to put it up into a ponytail.
She is over for tea, and Laura’s made the girl her favourite: spicy bourbon chicken over yellow rice, stir fried vegetables. Kara drinks her wine between bites, attacking her plate enthusiastically while Laura looks on.
“What is it?” Kara asks, cutting into her meat, her brow furrowing, the face she makes almost comical in its drama, cute as all frak.
“You are just a child,” Laura says, refilling her glass with the Virgon sparkling white.
“I’m not a child, I’m a—”
“Grown ass woman. Right,” says Laura, predicting what Kara will say.
Kara smiles and scoots forward in her chair. “I’m 27,” she says.
“Yes, you are.”
As if Laura needs to be reminded.
“And I know what I want. And what I want is you,” says Kara. “I want you so bad that I have to bring an extra pair of knickers to work everyday, because by the afternoon, I’ve already soaked a set thinking about all the things I want to do to you.”
Laura refuses to blush.
Kara takes her cloth napkin, dabs at the side of her mouth, then lays it down. “Look, just come here,” she says, leaning back into her chair.
“I will not,” Laura says, and even though her tone is steady and mature, she can’t help but think that the sentiment is a little adolescent.
“Come here,” Kara repeats, scratching an itch on her chest that falls conveniently near her cleavage, not even trying to hide the fact that she’s intentionally trying to be a tease. Scheming cunt.
“I want you to come over here now so I can touch you,” says Kara again, her voice low now with need. “Please, Laura? Let me make you come?”
When Laura doesn’t answer, Kara sighs heavily, then makes to get up to leave. “Thanks for tea,” she says, “but I should probably go.”
All Laura wants to do is grab her wrist and pull her back, kiss Kara until she makes that beautiful moan in the back of her throat. But Laura doesn’t get up from her chair.
She lets Kara walk out the door.
*
At the gym, setting a grueling pace for herself on the elliptical machine, Laura tells Ellen that she hasn’t heard from Kara in a couple of weeks, not since a fight they had.
“You’re being a brat,” Ellen says, toned arms pulling hard on the handles of the elliptical, her breath even and steady despite her speed.
“I just don’t see what the point of it is,” says Laura. She pushes the arrows to increase the incline. Her heart rate is already at 150 beats per minute, her walking speed at 12 kilometers an hour.
“The point,” says Ellen, “is that she’s hot, you’re hot, and when you add the two of you together, it’s doubly hot. Basic addition. Why would you deny the world that double hotness?”
Laura grabs her water bottle and takes a sip from her iced, watered-down green tea, letting the liquid cool her throat and revive her.“She’ll just get bored eventually,” Laura says.
“Maybe she will,” agrees Ellen.
“And I’m not in a place where I can be somebody’s one and only,” Laura says.
Ellen laughs, not bothering to stifle the raucous sound of it. “The way that woman looks, I highly doubt you’re her one and only.”
Laura turns up the incline more, increases her speed, her heart rate now at 151.
“Are you jealous?” asks Ellen.
“No,” Laura says.
“Liar.”
*
Laura decides to call Kara at nearly midnight, Kara picking up on the last possible ring.
“Yeah?” the girl answers, sounding breathless, like she’s been laughing—or frakking. And the thought of Kara writhing and shaking and mewling for anyone but Laura makes her stomach feel like lead.
Laura gets right to it, because she has no interest in bullshittery. “Are you with someone else, Kara?” she asks, her free hand knotted into a fist, her nails making marks in her palm.
There’s a long pause, and Laura can hear Kara breathing. “Kara?” Laura prompts, waiting.
“Not right now, if that’s what you mean,” Kara finally says.
“That’s not what I mean. Are you—have you been any one else?”
“It’s been two weeks. You didn’t call. I thought—”
Laura hangs up the phone. She’s not angry. She’s not upset. She doesn’t care. She doesn’t care one frakking bit.
*
Laura is making herself a late night cuppa when she hears the knocking. Laura stiffens, hedges toward the front door slowly, the tile cold against her bare feet.
Peeking through the peephole, Laura’s not sure to be relieved or what. “Please let me in,” Kara says, knocking again.
Laura combs her fingers through her hair, straightens her night gown, pulling it down so that it covers her butt more. She flips the lock, opens the door, sees Kara standing there in a pair of flannel trousers and a tank top—her pajamas.
“You hung up on me,” says Kara.
“Yes,” Laura says.
“And I’m the child?”
“Are you going to come inside?” asks Laura.
Kara steps forward, not moving all the way into the house.
“I thought you quit smoking,” Laura chastises.
“I did.”
“I can smell the cloves on you,” says Laura.
“Do you really care if I smoke or not?”
“You know that I do.”
Kara shrugs, leans against the doorframe. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks.”
Then she sweeps her eyes over Laura’s body, gaze roaming from her chest down to her legs, then back up again, not even trying to hide her appraisal. She licks her lips hungrily. “Why do you even bother with that nightie?” Kara asks. “You might as well sleep naked.”
Kara steps inside, slipping off her trainers by the door. She’s not wearing any socks, and Laura wonders if when they got off the phone, Kara drove right over, not bothering to dress properly.
They head to the kitchen, where Kara helps herself to some ambrosia, and Laura pours a little something extra into her tea.
“So who?” Laura asks, never one to pull punches.
“Who what?” says Kara, downing the absinthe, setting down her glass.
“Who were you with?” Laura clarifies, prodding, too anxious to find out the answer to be embarrassed by her obvious possessiveness.
“Laura, can we please not do this?”
“Who?”
Kara refills her glass, takes a sip. “Shall I make a list? Is that what you want?”
Patient, understanding Kara has gone on holiday
“A list?” Laura asks, some of her strength leaving her.
“Yes, a list. There’ve been quite a bit. Let’s see—there was that drunken threesome one night at Club Six, sorry, didn’t get their names. Then Kat—because she’s always up for a rebound frak, and Lords know I am, too. You no longer want me, so—”
“That’s frakking bullshit, and you know it,” says Laura, setting her mug down hard on the counter. “Of course I want you. When have I ever not wanted you? How could you even think that?”
Kara’s staring into her glass, watching the liquid twirl.
“Look at me,” Laura says.
Kara does, her eyes fixing to Laura’s. “I’m right here. I came to you,” she says. “I don’t know what more you want from me.”
They both deflate at that.
“I want everything. That’s the problem—that I have no right to ask for it.”
“But I like to give,” says Kara, the double entendre not lost upon Laura.
“I know, believe me,” says Laura, joining Kara near the counter.
“Did I ever tell you I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the Twelve Colonies?” says Kara, pulling Laura even closer, pecking her chastely on the lips.
“Multiple times, yes,” says Laura, her eyes closing, her lips pressing forward to kiss Kara again. They flick their tongues against each other, almost timidly, testing the waters. It is painfully hot, and Laura feels the kiss all the way down to her stomach, sharp and needy.
Kara’s hands grip her thighs, then slide upwards under her nightgown, her fingers touching Laura’s wet knickers.
“Kara,” she says, her voice keening.
Laura’s hands start exploring Kara’s body, slipping under the waistband of her flannels, grabbing her ass. Of course, the girl’s not wearing any underwear. She moves her finger’s to Kara’s front, feeling the damp hair, then wanders farther down, causing Kara to press herself into Laura’s hand and moan.
Their kisses grow more frenzied, less controlled. Kara moves her lips from Laura’s mouth down to her neck, sucking the skin tenderly as she pushes a single finger inside of Laura, unmoving.
Laura jerks her hips, addicted to the feel of Kara’s finger pressing against her walls.
“So tight,” Kara says, inserting another finger, stretching Laura.
“More,” says Laura, and Kara acquiesces, adding a third finger, filling Laura.
Laura rubs Kara’s clit as Kara fraks her, and they’re both bucking into each other’s hands before too long.
When Kara begins circling Laura’s clit with her thumb, it’s over for both of them, and they’re moaning in to each other’s mouths, clinging to each other tightly, as their climaxes shatter them.
They hold each other up, their hands still at each other’s cunts, their breaths ragged.
“See?” Laura says, her breathing still unsteady, “haven’t stopped wanting you.”
Kara laughs, her face impossibly warm and bright. “Me neither,” says Kara, “never will.”
wishflsinfl for the prompt, "mommy issues". Warnings for porn. Mild amount of angst. AU, but the 12 Colonies are still the 12 Colonies.A part of Laura will always wonder if Kara is only frakking her because of the girl’s obvious mommy issues.
But then Kara’s tongue makes its way from Laura’s inner thigh to her clit, sliding up and down along the tender, wet skin before plunging inside. Those moments, when Laura’s hips are driving into Kara’s face wildly, desperate to come, she doesn’t give two shits about why Kara is frakking her, is just thankful that it’s happening.
Afterwards, when they’re embracing each other on the couch, watching reruns of bad teen dramas, Laura doesn’t think of anything at all but how beautiful Kara’s face is when it lights up with laughter.
*
Kara never goes out of her way to look good, but somehow, she always does. She’s wearing an old fitted pyramid jersey that shows off her curves. The jeans she has on are a size too big, and her hair is long enough now that she has to put it up into a ponytail.
She is over for tea, and Laura’s made the girl her favourite: spicy bourbon chicken over yellow rice, stir fried vegetables. Kara drinks her wine between bites, attacking her plate enthusiastically while Laura looks on.
“What is it?” Kara asks, cutting into her meat, her brow furrowing, the face she makes almost comical in its drama, cute as all frak.
“You are just a child,” Laura says, refilling her glass with the Virgon sparkling white.
“I’m not a child, I’m a—”
“Grown ass woman. Right,” says Laura, predicting what Kara will say.
Kara smiles and scoots forward in her chair. “I’m 27,” she says.
“Yes, you are.”
As if Laura needs to be reminded.
“And I know what I want. And what I want is you,” says Kara. “I want you so bad that I have to bring an extra pair of knickers to work everyday, because by the afternoon, I’ve already soaked a set thinking about all the things I want to do to you.”
Laura refuses to blush.
Kara takes her cloth napkin, dabs at the side of her mouth, then lays it down. “Look, just come here,” she says, leaning back into her chair.
“I will not,” Laura says, and even though her tone is steady and mature, she can’t help but think that the sentiment is a little adolescent.
“Come here,” Kara repeats, scratching an itch on her chest that falls conveniently near her cleavage, not even trying to hide the fact that she’s intentionally trying to be a tease. Scheming cunt.
“I want you to come over here now so I can touch you,” says Kara again, her voice low now with need. “Please, Laura? Let me make you come?”
When Laura doesn’t answer, Kara sighs heavily, then makes to get up to leave. “Thanks for tea,” she says, “but I should probably go.”
All Laura wants to do is grab her wrist and pull her back, kiss Kara until she makes that beautiful moan in the back of her throat. But Laura doesn’t get up from her chair.
She lets Kara walk out the door.
*
At the gym, setting a grueling pace for herself on the elliptical machine, Laura tells Ellen that she hasn’t heard from Kara in a couple of weeks, not since a fight they had.
“You’re being a brat,” Ellen says, toned arms pulling hard on the handles of the elliptical, her breath even and steady despite her speed.
“I just don’t see what the point of it is,” says Laura. She pushes the arrows to increase the incline. Her heart rate is already at 150 beats per minute, her walking speed at 12 kilometers an hour.
“The point,” says Ellen, “is that she’s hot, you’re hot, and when you add the two of you together, it’s doubly hot. Basic addition. Why would you deny the world that double hotness?”
Laura grabs her water bottle and takes a sip from her iced, watered-down green tea, letting the liquid cool her throat and revive her.“She’ll just get bored eventually,” Laura says.
“Maybe she will,” agrees Ellen.
“And I’m not in a place where I can be somebody’s one and only,” Laura says.
Ellen laughs, not bothering to stifle the raucous sound of it. “The way that woman looks, I highly doubt you’re her one and only.”
Laura turns up the incline more, increases her speed, her heart rate now at 151.
“Are you jealous?” asks Ellen.
“No,” Laura says.
“Liar.”
*
Laura decides to call Kara at nearly midnight, Kara picking up on the last possible ring.
“Yeah?” the girl answers, sounding breathless, like she’s been laughing—or frakking. And the thought of Kara writhing and shaking and mewling for anyone but Laura makes her stomach feel like lead.
Laura gets right to it, because she has no interest in bullshittery. “Are you with someone else, Kara?” she asks, her free hand knotted into a fist, her nails making marks in her palm.
There’s a long pause, and Laura can hear Kara breathing. “Kara?” Laura prompts, waiting.
“Not right now, if that’s what you mean,” Kara finally says.
“That’s not what I mean. Are you—have you been any one else?”
“It’s been two weeks. You didn’t call. I thought—”
Laura hangs up the phone. She’s not angry. She’s not upset. She doesn’t care. She doesn’t care one frakking bit.
*
Laura is making herself a late night cuppa when she hears the knocking. Laura stiffens, hedges toward the front door slowly, the tile cold against her bare feet.
Peeking through the peephole, Laura’s not sure to be relieved or what. “Please let me in,” Kara says, knocking again.
Laura combs her fingers through her hair, straightens her night gown, pulling it down so that it covers her butt more. She flips the lock, opens the door, sees Kara standing there in a pair of flannel trousers and a tank top—her pajamas.
“You hung up on me,” says Kara.
“Yes,” Laura says.
“And I’m the child?”
“Are you going to come inside?” asks Laura.
Kara steps forward, not moving all the way into the house.
“I thought you quit smoking,” Laura chastises.
“I did.”
“I can smell the cloves on you,” says Laura.
“Do you really care if I smoke or not?”
“You know that I do.”
Kara shrugs, leans against the doorframe. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks.”
Then she sweeps her eyes over Laura’s body, gaze roaming from her chest down to her legs, then back up again, not even trying to hide her appraisal. She licks her lips hungrily. “Why do you even bother with that nightie?” Kara asks. “You might as well sleep naked.”
Kara steps inside, slipping off her trainers by the door. She’s not wearing any socks, and Laura wonders if when they got off the phone, Kara drove right over, not bothering to dress properly.
They head to the kitchen, where Kara helps herself to some ambrosia, and Laura pours a little something extra into her tea.
“So who?” Laura asks, never one to pull punches.
“Who what?” says Kara, downing the absinthe, setting down her glass.
“Who were you with?” Laura clarifies, prodding, too anxious to find out the answer to be embarrassed by her obvious possessiveness.
“Laura, can we please not do this?”
“Who?”
Kara refills her glass, takes a sip. “Shall I make a list? Is that what you want?”
Patient, understanding Kara has gone on holiday
“A list?” Laura asks, some of her strength leaving her.
“Yes, a list. There’ve been quite a bit. Let’s see—there was that drunken threesome one night at Club Six, sorry, didn’t get their names. Then Kat—because she’s always up for a rebound frak, and Lords know I am, too. You no longer want me, so—”
“That’s frakking bullshit, and you know it,” says Laura, setting her mug down hard on the counter. “Of course I want you. When have I ever not wanted you? How could you even think that?”
Kara’s staring into her glass, watching the liquid twirl.
“Look at me,” Laura says.
Kara does, her eyes fixing to Laura’s. “I’m right here. I came to you,” she says. “I don’t know what more you want from me.”
They both deflate at that.
“I want everything. That’s the problem—that I have no right to ask for it.”
“But I like to give,” says Kara, the double entendre not lost upon Laura.
“I know, believe me,” says Laura, joining Kara near the counter.
“Did I ever tell you I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the Twelve Colonies?” says Kara, pulling Laura even closer, pecking her chastely on the lips.
“Multiple times, yes,” says Laura, her eyes closing, her lips pressing forward to kiss Kara again. They flick their tongues against each other, almost timidly, testing the waters. It is painfully hot, and Laura feels the kiss all the way down to her stomach, sharp and needy.
Kara’s hands grip her thighs, then slide upwards under her nightgown, her fingers touching Laura’s wet knickers.
“Kara,” she says, her voice keening.
Laura’s hands start exploring Kara’s body, slipping under the waistband of her flannels, grabbing her ass. Of course, the girl’s not wearing any underwear. She moves her finger’s to Kara’s front, feeling the damp hair, then wanders farther down, causing Kara to press herself into Laura’s hand and moan.
Their kisses grow more frenzied, less controlled. Kara moves her lips from Laura’s mouth down to her neck, sucking the skin tenderly as she pushes a single finger inside of Laura, unmoving.
Laura jerks her hips, addicted to the feel of Kara’s finger pressing against her walls.
“So tight,” Kara says, inserting another finger, stretching Laura.
“More,” says Laura, and Kara acquiesces, adding a third finger, filling Laura.
Laura rubs Kara’s clit as Kara fraks her, and they’re both bucking into each other’s hands before too long.
When Kara begins circling Laura’s clit with her thumb, it’s over for both of them, and they’re moaning in to each other’s mouths, clinging to each other tightly, as their climaxes shatter them.
They hold each other up, their hands still at each other’s cunts, their breaths ragged.
“See?” Laura says, her breathing still unsteady, “haven’t stopped wanting you.”
Kara laughs, her face impossibly warm and bright. “Me neither,” says Kara, “never will.”
