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taragel because I promised. Sneaking in under the wire for the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
bsg_pornbattle
If you're not a fan of rpf, please look away. Thanks!
When Jamie drinks tequila he gets giggly, giddy and silly. His cheeks flush and he laughs at anything, anything.
When Katee drinks tequila she gets funnier and funnier around him, her wit more cutting and acerbic, his laughter prompting her on.
The con is at a Holiday Inn, in a city she's not sure she could name. They're the only two at the bar. That should be a warning sign but instead is more like red to a bull. Jamie orders another round, mouth wide and generous, and his hands grip the bar when he throws his head back and laughs with her.
Katee can't look away from his throat, coated in stubble, and when the bartender slides the shots of Patrone towards them she braces herself high on his thigh to lean forward to reach the shot glass.
She swallows the shot down, not shuddering at the after burn, and meets his eyes. He is still amused, and downs his shot in a mirror to hers. He leans in to put his shot glass back down just as she is turning to say something cutting about the girl across the bar missing her pants, and suddenly their faces are inches apart, close enough to taste the alcohol on his breath.
Her head is swimming just enough that kissing him seems like a good idea, so she kisses him back, his mouth warm and just the right side of sloppy to heat her blood further than the alcohol and his proximity already have.
His tongue has made a thorough inventory of her mouth by the time she pulls away, breathless, hands caught in the lapels of his blazer. She buries her face in his neck, loves the smell of him. She arches onto her toes unexpectedly when he nuzzles and then bites at the side of her neck. Oh. Oh, he is so going to get, and right now if she has her way, which she most certainly will.
She drags him into the wheelchair bathroom, hands at his belt buckle and mouth open and laughing. His hands try to push hers away to get at her pants, but she pulls her mouth away and narrows her eyes. She presses him back against the door, blazer off and on the floor before she goes for his t-shirt, stripping it up and tangling it in his hands.
"Stay," she manages, low, heated and nothing like the joking tone of earlier. He swallows, licks his lips and something hot and dark settles in his blue, blue eyes before he nods tightly.
She smiles, just feral enough that it feels foreign on her lips. They've done this before, more often than they should, but it's Jamie's life they're wrecking and he seems to want this as much as she does.
She scrapes a fingernail down his chest, over his nipple, gentle enough not to leave a mark. He draws a breath in between his teeth and she kisses him again. He tastes like lime and salt and that last shot. It's intoxicating.
His stomach clenches against her fingers when she lets them slide down his abdomen. He gasps in a breath and bites out "Katee" like it pains him when she goes down to her knees.
He's always liked a button fly, and she likes the satisfaction of popping the buttons, one after another before pulling him free, framed by denim and metal.
She takes a second to breathe over him and at his plaintive whine she smiles again before licking him, bottom to top, and swallowing him into her mouth and throat.
He groans, hard, and she hears his head thud back against the tiled wall. His hips shift against her and hers shift slowly against the seam of her jeans. Fuck.
He throbs in her mouth and tastes and smells like everything she wants and can't have. This has to be like this, illicit and unplanned and infrequent enough that they can look each other in the eye on set, if not off.
She knows he's close and spares a moment of guilt for knowing that much, when the banging on the door starts.
She lets him slip from between her lips and looks up. His cock springs up against his belly, and his eyes are wide, pupils blown and dark and he doesn't move, doesn't breathe, doesn't reach his hands down to tangle in her hair to tell her to stop.
So she swallows him down again, deep, ignoring the pounding on the door or maybe thriving on it, her pulse and the heat between her legs matching the rhythm. Her toes curl and her nails bite into the rough skin of his thighs and the sound of banging fades and stops as he thrusts and again and is coming down her throat, hot and bitter and perfect.
She pulls away, leans her face on his thigh. She's dazed, close enough to coming that she has to concentrate on not squeezing her thighs together.
She can feel him still breathing hard and wishes she had enough brain function left to smile. Instead she watches as he untangles his hands, his t-shirt flying across the room. and his now-free hands find her upper arms and pull her up to lean bonelessly against his body.
His mouth is hot and still tastes like tequila when the banging at the door starts again. She barely catches the rattle of keys before he pushes her away and scrambles for his blazer.
She can't help it. She throws her head back and laughs, little quakes shaking her body.
"You-" he says and she grins and he fights something that looks like a smile too and she sways close enough to him that she thinks he's going to kiss her at any moment and god, she wants him to kiss her and -
The door behind her swings open. The burly bartender from before is in the doorway, disapproving.
"Get the fuck out," he says, and behind him Katee sees a girl on crutches. Whoops.
She lets Jamie stay close enough behind her that it's not obvious he's missing his shirt. Once the elevator doors slide shut behind them she twists in his grasp and kisses him.
"Think there's more tequila in the mini bar?"
taragel because I promised. Sneaking in under the wire for the bsg_pornbattleIf you're not a fan of rpf, please look away. Thanks!
When Jamie drinks tequila he gets giggly, giddy and silly. His cheeks flush and he laughs at anything, anything.
When Katee drinks tequila she gets funnier and funnier around him, her wit more cutting and acerbic, his laughter prompting her on.
The con is at a Holiday Inn, in a city she's not sure she could name. They're the only two at the bar. That should be a warning sign but instead is more like red to a bull. Jamie orders another round, mouth wide and generous, and his hands grip the bar when he throws his head back and laughs with her.
Katee can't look away from his throat, coated in stubble, and when the bartender slides the shots of Patrone towards them she braces herself high on his thigh to lean forward to reach the shot glass.
She swallows the shot down, not shuddering at the after burn, and meets his eyes. He is still amused, and downs his shot in a mirror to hers. He leans in to put his shot glass back down just as she is turning to say something cutting about the girl across the bar missing her pants, and suddenly their faces are inches apart, close enough to taste the alcohol on his breath.
Her head is swimming just enough that kissing him seems like a good idea, so she kisses him back, his mouth warm and just the right side of sloppy to heat her blood further than the alcohol and his proximity already have.
His tongue has made a thorough inventory of her mouth by the time she pulls away, breathless, hands caught in the lapels of his blazer. She buries her face in his neck, loves the smell of him. She arches onto her toes unexpectedly when he nuzzles and then bites at the side of her neck. Oh. Oh, he is so going to get, and right now if she has her way, which she most certainly will.
She drags him into the wheelchair bathroom, hands at his belt buckle and mouth open and laughing. His hands try to push hers away to get at her pants, but she pulls her mouth away and narrows her eyes. She presses him back against the door, blazer off and on the floor before she goes for his t-shirt, stripping it up and tangling it in his hands.
"Stay," she manages, low, heated and nothing like the joking tone of earlier. He swallows, licks his lips and something hot and dark settles in his blue, blue eyes before he nods tightly.
She smiles, just feral enough that it feels foreign on her lips. They've done this before, more often than they should, but it's Jamie's life they're wrecking and he seems to want this as much as she does.
She scrapes a fingernail down his chest, over his nipple, gentle enough not to leave a mark. He draws a breath in between his teeth and she kisses him again. He tastes like lime and salt and that last shot. It's intoxicating.
His stomach clenches against her fingers when she lets them slide down his abdomen. He gasps in a breath and bites out "Katee" like it pains him when she goes down to her knees.
He's always liked a button fly, and she likes the satisfaction of popping the buttons, one after another before pulling him free, framed by denim and metal.
She takes a second to breathe over him and at his plaintive whine she smiles again before licking him, bottom to top, and swallowing him into her mouth and throat.
He groans, hard, and she hears his head thud back against the tiled wall. His hips shift against her and hers shift slowly against the seam of her jeans. Fuck.
He throbs in her mouth and tastes and smells like everything she wants and can't have. This has to be like this, illicit and unplanned and infrequent enough that they can look each other in the eye on set, if not off.
She knows he's close and spares a moment of guilt for knowing that much, when the banging on the door starts.
She lets him slip from between her lips and looks up. His cock springs up against his belly, and his eyes are wide, pupils blown and dark and he doesn't move, doesn't breathe, doesn't reach his hands down to tangle in her hair to tell her to stop.
So she swallows him down again, deep, ignoring the pounding on the door or maybe thriving on it, her pulse and the heat between her legs matching the rhythm. Her toes curl and her nails bite into the rough skin of his thighs and the sound of banging fades and stops as he thrusts and again and is coming down her throat, hot and bitter and perfect.
She pulls away, leans her face on his thigh. She's dazed, close enough to coming that she has to concentrate on not squeezing her thighs together.
She can feel him still breathing hard and wishes she had enough brain function left to smile. Instead she watches as he untangles his hands, his t-shirt flying across the room. and his now-free hands find her upper arms and pull her up to lean bonelessly against his body.
His mouth is hot and still tastes like tequila when the banging at the door starts again. She barely catches the rattle of keys before he pushes her away and scrambles for his blazer.
She can't help it. She throws her head back and laughs, little quakes shaking her body.
"You-" he says and she grins and he fights something that looks like a smile too and she sways close enough to him that she thinks he's going to kiss her at any moment and god, she wants him to kiss her and -
The door behind her swings open. The burly bartender from before is in the doorway, disapproving.
"Get the fuck out," he says, and behind him Katee sees a girl on crutches. Whoops.
She lets Jamie stay close enough behind her that it's not obvious he's missing his shirt. Once the elevator doors slide shut behind them she twists in his grasp and kisses him.
"Think there's more tequila in the mini bar?"
Tags:
- fic,
- katee/jamie,
- katie,
- rpf