dizzy_land | Doesn't like dice games with sharpies and frauds

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Doesn't like dice games with sharpies and frauds

((Occurs sometime the week after Bad Fanon Day and the subsequent fallout. Closed to Una and Starbuck.))

Despite occasional temptations to do so, Una had still not cracked open the bottle of moonshine that John Crichton had sent to her back when she'd first arrived.

Given events of the last several days, the temptation was now overwhelming.

She hated drinking alone, though, and being in one of those moods where she wanted to blame the entire male gender for everything that was wrong with the universe, she had absolutely no desire to drink with any of the men or male beings of her acquaintance.

She'd done a fairly crap job of making female friends in this place. She liked Psyche, but there was something eerily not quite right about boozing up with a goddess, especially one who could see through a person with alarming accuracy. Which—

Of course. Starbuck. They'd scarcely seen each other at all since Una had arrived, more was the pity, and that needed to be remedied. And this was as good an excuse as any.

Starbuck,

So I'm not at all sure why I haven't written or visited sooner, as I did enjoy talking to you when I arrived here. Can I make that up to you by offering a drink? I'm afraid it's only the local moonshine, but it's better than nothing. Your place or mine?

-Una Persson

((ETA: Rated ~~PG-13 to~~ R for ~~not especially~~ moderately explicit~~, but~~ and pretty unmistakable femmeslashiness.))

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She had a funny feeling Una wasn't speaking rhetorically. And if this was variety.... "A little padding never hurt anyone." She grinned and pulled Una over to the mattress, looking her up and down as they went, as though trying to figure out what to take care of next.

Una kicked off her shoes as she went, and as she eased herself down onto the mattress, she untucked her own shirt and pulled it off.

Which action reminded her of the freshly healed pale arc over her hipbone, the lace of marks on her left shoulderblade. Well. No point in calling attention to them; if Starbuck noticed, she noticed, and if she didn't, it was one less thing to explain.

Starbuck decided to match on her that front and got rid of her own shoes as well, then realized that getting rid of her pants would probably be more comfortable with the heat anyway, so she got rid of them as well kneeling down next to the other woman.

If Starbuck noticed a thing, she wasn't likely to bring it up. She had her own scars that she'd just as soon not talk about too, of course, not now. But she would have an interesting time guessing where Una's came from.

After sliding out of her own trousers, Una leaned over and kissed Starbuck's shoulder, hands skimming lightly over bare legs, stomach, back. "You'll let me know, won't you, if anything gets to be uncomfortable for you?" she murmured playfully, and nipped lightly at Starbuck's collarbone.

She couldn't help it; that made her laugh. "I'm sorry, I'm having a hard time imagining how anything that feels like this," and she skimmed hand down Una's side and up the center of her chest, "could make me uncomfortable."

Una's answering chuckle turned into a soft moan halfway through, and she stroked the tips of her fingers across Starbuck's ribcage, gently and firmly. "Then I suppose I won't worry too much about doing ... this."

She slid one hand up to cup a soft curve (surprisingly so, almost) and then, as she pressed another kiss to Starbuck's lips, she slid her other hand down, gently.

Starbuck sucked in a breath, even as she tried to think of something else reasonably coherent to say. Her voice had been going steadily rougher as they'd moved on, but when Una's hand slid down it elicited nothing short of a high, breathy little cry, as she pressed herself into the other woman's touch.

It was perhaps a tiny bit obvious how much she'd been needing this.

And Una had been needing this too: the chance to touch someone—a woman—Starbuck; to give pleasure without struggle or pain. It didn't matter how much she loved it; she couldn't live on the tightrope forever. Even if this was only a brief respite, it was exactly the one she needed.

She smiled against Starbuck's mouth. "Don't worry, darling," she murmured. "You're in good hands." Which were now, gently and carefully, being put to use.

She tensed while her fingers slowly slid around Una's back to find the hooks of her bra. "Ah... I can..." tell, that's what she'd wanted to say, but she couldn't stop panting long enough to get the rest out, not now.

Gods, being touch-starved was a bitch.

So she sucked on Una's earlobe instead, buying herself time until she could speak again.

A low laugh, followed by a small, sharp intake of breath. She drew her hands back, first one and then the other, to shrug off the bra, never quite losing contact completely.

She could feel the tension and urgency in Starbuck's body, under her fingers, against her own body. Still touching gently with the one hand, she reached up to caress Starbuck's cheek and then offer a light pressure to her shoulder. "Relax," she murmured. "Lie back. I'm not going anywhere." A little extra pressure below, as if to emphasize the point.

Starbuck forced herself to take a deep breath. She nodded once and lay back on the mattress, wriggling a little until her back was comfortable. "No rush," she reminded herself. "Just...." And she sighed suddenly, and the sound somehow came out as grateful as she meant it to be.

There was a little awkward fumbling for a moment as Una managed to divest herself and Starbuck of what remained of their clothing, and then she stretched out her long body, lying on her side beside Starbuck. And then another slow, gentle kiss on the lips, then jaw, then throat, while she explored with her hand.

Every nerve was lit up, every sense sharpened and alert to each nuance of movement, sound. And she was aware of her own body's hunger, but satisfying it wasn't what she needed now anyway; what she needed was to act: this kiss, that flick of the tongue; this sliding of the leg between smooth calves, that gentle movement of the fingers.

Starbuck drew up one knee for her own sense of balance, reached a hand across her body and over to Una's; she may not have a lot of experience in this, but whatever she didn't know, she was damn well going to make up for in effort.

She spread her fingers over Una's collar bone, then down where she scraped carefully with her fingernails as her own spine twisted, as she rolled a little onto her side so she could get a better press between them from shoulder to ankle.

Una shivered at the scraping nails; her eyes fluttered shut for a moment and her hand moved more sharply than she'd intended. "Naughty," she whispered. "Distracting me like that..."

She whimpered a little and rolled her hips, one hand clutching Una's shoulder. Starbuck leaned forward and licked Una's bottom lip slowly. "Oh, I'm naughty then," she murmured back. "So how do I get punished for that?"

Una's answer was entirely non-verbal; she changed up the rhythm of her touch just a bit, homing in on a spot that she thought had gotten a promising reaction earlier.

"Oh--" Starbuck gasped, working herself up to that rhythm, feeling her hands start shaking against Una's skin. "Um... yeah, that's... that's--" She threw her head back and let her eyes close. "Right there...."

Which, of course, was Una's cue to slow again. She leaned close so that her lips brushed Starbuck's ear when she whispered, "Say please."

Starbuck didn't beg. She didn't plea or beseech or politely request. She rarely even asked.

Except when it came to this. For this, she had absolutely no shame.

"Please," she said softly, making a good show of it, just enough of a pitch in her voice to prove how pitiful she'd be if she was denied. "Oh, please."

"Good girl." And she bit down lightly on Starbuck's earlobe as she picked up that rhythm again.

Starbuck knew her hands were only going to be able to do so much at this point, but she did manage to slip a leg between Una's and push it up high as she rocked tight against her deft fingers.

Something about those two words struck her funny, though, even as the tone of them raced straight down with her blood. "Even... my own mother didn't... didn't call me that," she said with a near laugh, tilting into those gentle teeth.

"Suppose it depends on how you look at it," Una breathed (ignoring, for now, the oddness of Starbuck's comment and what it might mean). "From where I'm standing, you're a very. Very. Good. Girl." Each word punctuated with a deliberate movement of her hand. "Or very very bad."

She grinned, sucked in a breath bit by bit with each motion. She laughed again. "Now that one I'm more used to," Starbuck pressed out in a high voice, and her jaw went rigged a moment and she strained against the pressure.

Una pressed a line of kisses along Starbuck's jaw, then kissed her deeply on the mouth, the movements of her hand gently relentless throughout.

Starbuck finally felt every part of her body flushing hot with a rush of blood. She had to give Una a lot of credit; with how long it had been, this probably should have gone faster, but it's only just now that she's feeling her toes curl in preparation. She cried out into Una's mouth when she was kissed and thrashed a little as she felt that sweeping dip in her stomach, that charge that flew up her spine and gave her the chills.

She tilted her head back at the end and took in great gasps of air. Just a minute, that was all she needed to reorder her head, she thought. Her fingers stroked down whatever skin she could find.

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